2025 Secret Santa!

It's what Satan would want.

[ghostsecretsanta]

Hi all! My name's Aster and I run this blog! (I also run this blog, which might be where you know me from!)

This event is a work in progress and i'm still gauging interest in this, so if you'd like to participate, make sure you fill out this survey!

Keep in mind, this is an 18+ event!

[maryiritza]

Hi @aimond-cola , I'm your Secret Santa! First of all, I want to sincerely apologize for not showing up until now and not getting in touch at all. I'm not trying to play the victim or say much because I'm sure you're not interested. I'll just say that this week wasn't the best for me, and I barely had time to use my phone. I also sincerely apologize to @stellargh0ul for not communicating and not being able to submit my part. I'm truly sorry, and I understand if I'm banned from this activity in the future. Again, @aimond-cola , I'm incredibly sorry, and I understand if you're not interested in the drawings anymore, but I really wanted to submit it because it would be cowardly of me to act like nothing happened. Again, my sincerest apologies, and I hope you have a happy holidays

[scramghouledegg]

Hi! I am so so so sorry for the late secret satan gift. My drawing tablet broke and I just received the new one yesterday. I hope you like it! I loved doing it and I put my whole abilities on it. Again I am so so so sorry for being so late. Merry Christmas and happy new year! ✨🖤

AAAAAAAAA OMG TYSM!!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 and no worries at all, I know life can throw curveballs sometimes. He’s gorgeous 😍😍😍😍😍🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Happy holidayssssss 💖💖💖💖

[angellayercake]

Jingle all the way!

@perpetuwhoore Mary Merry somewhat belated Christmas!!! I had some great fun reading about Audrey and Mary so I hope you enjoy a little Christmas adventure based on their continued exploration! 🎄🎄🎄

NSFW, pegging, fancy dress, very brief mentions of knife play

The bells on their outfit jingle faintly every time she rocks her hips giving a surreal air to the whole situation. If anyone had told her she would have Mary Goore face down ass up beneath the tree on Christmas morning, well she might have believed them given their recent activities but it was a surprise all the same.

A desperate whine spilling from their throat brings her back to the present, and the present she was so thoroughly enjoying.

'What was that Mary?' she asks innocently despite her current activities. They whine pathetically in response and push their ass back against her where she had slowed her thrusts to an almost stop.

'I can't hear you, little elf,' she sing songs to Mary's continued vocal despair.

'More, please!' They groan out eventually, sounding almost as pained as when she had had her knife against their skin.

Fleetingly she remembers a time when they balked at begging her but here they were now all dressed up and begging so sweetly. She had always planned to fuck them, eventually, to stretch them open on her strap and Mary had clearly been thinking about it too. Maybe while perusing her spare room unattended. She could imagine them picking through each item, one at a time imagining all the things she might do to them with it, unable to supress a shiver of pleasurable anticipation, maybe even palming their hard cock while their fantasies ran wild.

But she is getting distracted again. She swats at their ass, a punishment they didn't even know they had earned and she relishes in their surprised jolt followed with their shudder of pleasure as her length grazes their prostate.

She pauses, giving herself a moment to take it all in. She had woken up to a cold bed trying to ignore the bloom of disappointment in her stomach. Dragging herself out of bed reasoning that her boyfriend could not have gone far and she had been correct. She stopped short when she saw them sat beneath their slightly sparse but lovingly decorated tree.

The teal in their hair had faded to a soft green blending darker in to what was left of the black dye but it was almost obscured by the elf hat they were wearing. She could see a glimpse of a sweetheart neckline covering their chest, a box sat in their lap almost covering what little there was of the outfit the barest glimpse of a hemline covering only the top of their shapely thighs.

Their smile is somehow smug and shy when they catch her expression but without a word they offer her the hastily wrapped box. She knows what is in before she removes the paper, her leather strap, and the dildo she had seen them eying wearily every time they were in the same room.

Mary had prepared themself, crawling on to their hands and knees to show her how ready they were for her to take and that earns them another slap.

'Why?' Mary moans into their crossed arms as they ride out the aftershocks of the second slap.

'I would have enjoyed spreading you open,' she informs them, punctuating each word with a thrust. Before either of them could think she had secured the strap and was pushing up the scrap of fabric that was covering what little was left of their dignity.

'Next time maybe I will tie you down and stretch you open slowly,' She thrusts with more purpose, the bells jingling more intensely every time she bottoms out. 'See how many times I can make you cum on my fingers.' She can see it in her mind the way they would writhe, the noises they might make but that is for another time, perhaps even later today.

But right now she has other matter to attend to. She releases her bruising grip on their hips folding over their back until she can mouth at their shoulders, teasing with her teeth around the straps of their outfit. She reaches for where their cock is weeping against their stomach, enjoying their fully body shudder when her hand closes around them.

'Are you close little elf?' She whispers against their neck. They gasp as she works them is almost enough to make up for their lack of answer, almost, but not quite. She squeezes his cock the bells jingling a little more insistently as they cry out.

'Yes, yes! I am so close,' they cry out.

She leans back fingers griping their hips the soft fabric taking some of the sting her nails would surely make if she was touching skin. They feel so good like this. Their wiry strength obscured by the gathers of the mini skirt that fell from the bodice. They rush to pick up where she left off jerking their cock in time with her thrusts.

'Please please please please,' they chant as she fills them over and over. The jingling bells almost constant now as their orgasm draws closer, movements almost frantic as they chase their peak.

She loves them like this so desperate and open and fully at her mercy. She could stop right now. Make them stop and wait and they would. They would hate it, would whine and would beg but they would stop. But it is Christmas and she was feeling generous. They deserved a reward for their thoughtful gift

'Cum now Mary.' And they do head thrown back with a cry as they push back against her bearing down on her full length. Without her firm grip on their hips she thinks they might collapse under the tree. She wraps her arm around them, letting them ride out the aftershocks pressing kisses to all the skin she can reach.

'Merry Christmas my darling,' she whispers in the sudden calm quiet.

'Merry Christmas babe,' they reply breathlessly. 'Did you enjoy your present?' There was that Mary attitude coming back so quickly. Her grip on their hips tightens once again.

'I have barely even started with how much I intend to enjoy my present,' she grins. 'I haven't even unwrapped it yet.'

Their bells almost manage to cover their anticipatory whimper.

Apologies again for not quite making the Christmas deadline. I had a horrible cold and my brain was like mush but I really really hope you enjoyed your present :) Merry Christmas!!!

[caputm0rtuum]

right yes so if anyone had told me back in 2023 that i'd end up tasked with making a christmas gift for one of my favourite terzo authors, i would have laughed in their face and accused them of trying to mess with me. WELP, HERE WE ARE.

@angellayercake so sorry for the delay — i was your secret satan and really wanted to get things right. by "things" i mean the good sister's lovely hairstyle. my first idea was to just. y'know. draw some terzos. but then i did some snooping and let's just say, i think everyone deserves to get some surprise art of their ocs. if they have great hair. and she does. also i love women. ANYWAY,

[lucifixion-pose]

Ghestie @thunderstorms-and-grape-sodas, as you did not receive your Secret Santa present (boooo, hissss), Secret Satan once more appears to offer assistance.

Cozy Copia for you 💚💜

Storm clouds roiled over the abbey, blotting out the moon’s efforts to provide any visibility. The lampposts regularly dotting the brick walkways crisscrossing the abbey cast meager pools of light into the black night, just barely illuminating the water ghouls cavorting in the wet grass.

One of the ghouls pushed another into a large puddle only to get pushed themselves, and the initial victim was soon covered with a pile of its brethren hooting with laughter as they all joined in.

You heard someone chuckle nearby, just on the edge of your hearing. Maybe twenty feet away, tucked away underneath an overhang, stood Cardinal Copia. He was watching the ghouls playing with a smile on his face, not seeming to care about the rain dripping down the side of his mozzetta. You weren’t sure if you should say anything – he was a famously shy and awkward little man, after all, but just as you decided to move somewhere else and leave him be, he noticed you.

“Oh,” you heard him say as he waved awkwardly, his nervous energy instantly manifesting at the sight of another human being, “Eh, hello there.”

“Evening, Cardinal,” you said, “Enjoying the rain?”

He finally noticed the damp spreading across his shoulder and you heard him muttering as he looked up at the overhang, realizing the protection it offered was not as total as he’d assumed. He put a hand on his biretta and jogged over to you.

“It would seem the roof has a bit of a leak,” he said, a little sheepishly.

“I’ll say,” you said, “Your back is soaked already.”

“Really?” He twisted around to try and look, “Merda. I just had this washed. Ah well.”

A shriek of laughter came from the ghouls as one of them bolted away from the others with something flapping over their head.

“Is that-”

“Someone’s pants?”

When another ghoul tore bare-assed after them you both started laughing.

“They do keep life here interesting, huh?”

“Strange creatures, they are,” the Cardinal said with a smile. A gust of wind blew some mist over the two of you and he moved a little closer just as a huge bolt of lightning split the sky. Near-daylight briefly flickered over the grounds, and both you and the Cardinal said,

“Oooh…”

You turned and grinned at one another, both saying, “Cool,” at the same time.

“Should you be out here?” he said, his tone almost teasing, “The lightning may hit you, no?”

“Huh?”

“You are...you have metal in your back, right?”

“You know about that?”

“I overhead you tell someone once,” he said, suddenly awkward again, saying, “It is easy to remember, you know? Interesting,” a little defensively. As if knowing something about you was embarrassing for him.

“Oh,” you said, “Well, yes, I have some medical implants, but it’s fine.”

“Bene, bene,” he said, then after a pause, “You are sure you are not a lightning rod?”

“I’m certain, Cardinal,” you laughed. He visibly relaxed at your assurance and you both turned your eyes back to the sky, standing silently together as the storm’s rage gradually petered out. The rain had slowed to a steady patter when you saw him shiver.

The damp seemed to have soaked across most of his upper body now, but he still stood next to you, having drawn closer than you realized. You caught him glancing at you before he flicked his eyes back to the ghouls still running around like fools. You saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard.

You cleared your throat to break the silence and said, “You cold? You’re soaked.”

“It is nothing,” he said quietly, “I am...enjoying being here.” He shot you a quick smile, and a moment later, you felt his hand brush against yours. Just barely.

In the dim light, you thought you could see a blush crossing his cheeks and looked away. Your face suddenly felt a little warm too, even as a cold breeze made you shiver.

“It is cold, though,” he said, more than a little reluctantly adding, “perhaps we should go inside.”

“Probably,” you said, similarly reluctant, but neither of you moved. Not until the ghouls all started heading back toward the abbey, signaling that the end of the rain had indeed come.

“Coming in, Cardinal?” one of them asked as they passed, holding the door open.

“Eh...yes, grazie,” he said. He reached for the door and held it for you.

It was warm inside the abbey, and there was already a ghoul heading toward the two of you with a mop, grumbling at the puddles their watery counterparts had left in their wake.

“Well, eh,” he said quietly, “It was nice to...watch that-”

“Do you want to, I dunno, get a cup of tea or something?” you blurted out, “I could use a hot drink.”

“Really? With me?” he said, stammering, “I-I, sure, I mean, y-yes, that sounds nice,” the cheeks around his shy smile were bright pink now, and you just hoped yours weren’t quite so obvious.

The canteen was empty at this time of night, with only a few utilitarian lights left on for the night owls. You put the kettle on and both went to look at the available drink selection.

The Ministy clearly believed in the power of a good beverage, and as the nights grew longer the shelves full of varieties of coffee and tea started sharing their space with more and more kinds of hot cocoa mixes. The Cardinal instantly gravitated to them, picking up box after box and comparing them.

“This one says it tastes like birthday cake,” he sounded mystified, “Why would I drink cocoa for cake flavor?”

“The Hot Chocolate Advisory Board must be slacking,” you said, “Maybe they’re in the pocket of Big Birthday Cake.”

He shook his head in disbelief, “And here I thought they were incorruptible.”

“Naive,” you grinned.

“So foolish of me,” he sighed and picked out an unassuming paper bag, “I shall go with plain cocoa. As, eh, an act of rebellion, you know?”

“You are truly a renegade.”

“Mm,” he agreed, “A dangerous rebel that- oh, this says to use milk instead of water,” he looked at you with a shy smile, “Can you get that? There is something I have to find.”

“Sure, whatcha getting?”

“It is a surprise,” he said mysteriously. He handed you the cocoa and disappeared into the pantry, calling out, “See if there is whipped cream too, per favore.”

You called back, “Aye aye, cap’n,” and set to work.

You’d caught a glimpse of him leaving the pantry with something in his hands, and now he was rooting around the drawers full of clattering utensils.

“Aha!” he said triumphantly, holding up a small, flat grater. He set down a few glass jars of spices on the counter next to you.

“What’s all this?”

“It is a serious matter, hot chocolate,” he said, very solemnly, “It deserves to be treated well.”

You’d already started heating up the milk in a pot, and as he started adding spices the exotic aromas filled the space around the two of you. He added cinnamon and ginger with a heavy hand - almost alarmingly so - then ground cloves, cardamom, and nutmeg much, much more lightly.

When he saw your eyebrows starting to knit together with concern, he said, “Trust me,”

“That’s a lot of ginger,” you said dubiously.

“I am an expert,” he assured you. He stirred in the cocoa and soon after poured out a cup for each of you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you said, grabbing the whipped cream and shaking it, “You’re not the only hot chocolate expert in the Ministry.”

“Is that so?” he crossed his arms in a faux-challenge, and said, “Alright, kid, show me what you got, eh?” in his best Tough Guy voice. When you finished constructing a perfectly-swirled tower on each cup he nodded approvingly.

“You just may make it in this world,” he said gruffly, then coughed, “I keep forgetting I should not do that voice.”

When you reached for your cup he held up a finger, pulling a jar from his pocket. He shook a rounded piece of whole nutmeg into his palm and grated it over the whipped cream.

“Now you may enjoy,” he said with a genteel little bow, nudging the cup toward you.

“Very fancy,” you said.

“As I said: I am an expert.”

The two of you made your way to a table near one of the large windows looking out over the grounds. The wind had picked up again and you could hear faintly hear it howling outside. You both sat in silence, the wind and occasional rattling of the windows the only sound as you waited for your drinks to cool. The whipped cream was already melting into the cocoa though, so you took a tentative sip.

“Oooh, oh, that’s so good,” you said, and his face instantly lit up.

“I told you,” he said happily, “What did I say?”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, “expert-level hot chocolate, I admit it.”

He arched an eyebrow and said, “This is not even my secret recipe.”

“Oh really? Well that I have to try sometime.”

He went silent and looked down at his drink for a moment, then met your eyes with a shy smile.

“I would like that very much, to make it for you sometime.”

Lightning flickered outside again, and from somewhere deep in the abbey you heard a joyous - and unmistakably ghoulish – whoop. When thunder distantly rumbled, the Cardinal stood and, after a moment of hesitation, held out his hand to you.

“Join me outside again?”

[ghostsecretsanta]

I'm happy to contribute for anyone who didn't get a gift. I think my assigned person never made anything, so I feel bad for whoever missed out. And my Secret Santa made something so special for me!

I appreciate the notice! I'll let you know when I have people who reach out about not getting anything, if I do have that.

[ghostsecretsanta]

is there any kind of plan for the people who ended up with nothing or are we on our own in that regard

If you didn’t get a gift, please message me so I can reach out to your secret santa and figure out what’s going on.

[tropicalscarab]

Hi @sister-amelia !!!

I was your secret Santa!!

You talked about a cute moment about getting caught in the rain, and I also noticed your favorite ghouls!

So I drew a silly moment with Aether, Aurora and Copia all coming back inside after getting caught in a thunderstorm!!

I hope you enjoy

(Sorry for the late posting, I was really busy!!)

[sister-amelia]

Hey @maryiritza ! I am your Ghost secret Santa this year! I adore Albino and am happy to see Primo being someone’s ship for once. I wrote a romantic little short about your OC/Primo and I really hope that you like it :)

———————

The days had grown colder and autumn was turning into winter. The leaves had fallen from all the trees in the orchard and a light frost coated the grounds in the mornings. With the damp air came a change within Primo. “Seasonal depression” as they called it nowadays. And this worried Albino.

Albino had noticed the change in Primo for far too long. His love had not been sleeping well. The nights stretched out too long and he could often find him brooding in front of the fire place while nursing a glass of wine. He didn’t tend to the gardens as much and recently made a Ghoul cry when they commented on the despair the greenhouse had fallen in to. Albino hadn’t been able to coax a reason from Primo. All he had been able to do was watch his partner stay in his melancholy state.

On this morning, Albino rose from bed rather late. Normally, he was the first to wake and would make breakfast. Afterward, and much to Primo’s dismay, he’d dress Primo in his daily attire- brushing out his long flaxen hair and making sure his robes weren’t wrinkled. That hadn’t happened this morning. Primo’s robes were missing from the wardrobe. He had left while Albino slept. The only evidence that he had done any form of “self-care” was a half empty bowl of cereal that sat in the sink.

“That obtuse man,” Albino muttered as he saw the bowl. “Cereal isn’t a proper meal.”

Albino walked back into the bedroom and began to dress himself in his black cassock. When the last button was clasped, he sat on the stool in front of the antique vanity to pamper himself. As he applied products to his hair, his gaze caught the reflection of the vase of bleeding heart flowers that sat on the nightstand. Its petals had long withered, some in a scattered mess on the table’s surface. The vase was barren of water and the scum from dirty water was caked to the glass.

Albino let out defeated sigh. He and Primo loved to garden, tending carefully to Primo’s personal collection of poisonous flowers. Primo normally kept a vase of fresh flowers in their bedroom, saying “such beauty shouldn’t be kept in a garden”. Truthfully- Primo hated to cut his special flowers, but he had done it to make Albino happy. He loved him after all. However- the gravity of the situation fell onto Albino’s shoulders. Primo was truly depressed and was neglecting a passion of his.

Albino’s mind raced as he twirled the hairbrush around in his hand. He wanted to help Primo come out of this funk, to see a smile on his face again. He had been patient, not wanting to be overbearing. However- the time had come to push forward. And as he continued to stare at the sad flower vase, an idea popped into his mind.

The garden might be the answer. An offering…

By midday, he was elbow deep into his surprise for Primo. He and some of the Ghouls tended to the greenhouse, ushering in a fresh breath of life into all the plants. They pruned what was necessary, swept the floors free of leaves, and did many more things to make it look vibrant again. Someone brought candles and placed them all around, leaving enough room so as to not burn the plants. And once they were lit, their warmth began to chase away the darkness that had settled.

Albino just hoped it would chase away the darkness in Primo’s mind.

***

A while later, once dusk had come, Albino and Primo were taking their nightly stroll around the Ministry. It was routine after dinner.

They stopped at the archway that led to the gardens. Primo looked to his greenhouse, a look of guilt in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Albino asked, placing a gentle hand on Primo’s shoulder.

“I dread the day I walk in there again,” Primo said, the sadness in his tone. “I’ve neglected it longer than I should’ve. Satan forgive me for it.”

“We can go together right now,” Albino suggested.

Primo sighed. “You don’t need to see the err of my ways, Albino.”

“I know, but this could be a way for you to begin to feel better.” He laced his fingers through Primo’s, squeezing his hand gently.

Albino could sense the pressure Primo felt. He hoped that he would decide to go into the greenhouse. If not, the plan was thwarted. He wondered if Primo expected him to relent, but Albino wouldn’t.

“I’ll be by your side,” Albino whispered. He brought Primo’s hand to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on his knuckles.

“Come,” Primo told him, still holding his hand as he began to walk forward.

When Primo opened the doors, his eyes saw not what he dreaded. He instead saw that all was as it should be. His mouth fell agape. Light bloomed around him, adding warmth to the chilly winter air. His flowers were alive, looking healthy and vibrant. He felt his heart squeeze and a rush of love through his veins.

Albino brushed back his brown locks, anxious by Primo’s silence.

“Che bellezza diabolica,” Primo muttered. His hand fell from Albino’s as he reached out to touch the bleeding hearts. Their petals were cool but soft, but Primo was still shocked that they were alive.

“How is it possible,” Primo asked, turning around to face Albino.

“The Ghouls helped,” he answered, moving to the bench. It groaned as he sat down. “I did it because…”

He couldn’t finish. He felt his cheeks warm, realizing that he was bashful. Primo recognized this immediately. With a caring hand, he titled Albino’s chin upward until he could see his partner’s glistening green eyes twinkle in the moonlight.

“Don’t be embarrassed, amore,” he whispered, rubbing small circles onto his chin with his thumb.

“I did it because I’ve been worried for you,” Albino finally confessed. “You’ve been not yourself. More melancholy by the day. I wanted to do something to make you smile, to make you realize that the darkness of your mind can fade.”

Primo then sat next to Albino on the bench. His heart swelled at love’s confession.

“I have not been myself, no. That’s true,” he said, looking to the sky. “Things have been difficult. I normally am resilient, but this time, not so much.”

Albino lovingly laid his head on Primo’s shoulder and listened as he continued to speak. Primo had indeed been dealing with some difficulties- murmurs of the unsatisfactory job he had done as Papa, lack of warm candor, and the prospect of growing older. It had infected his mind with terrible thoughts and it wasn’t something he was accustomed to.

“But tonight…I think I can begin to become normal. Your love for me is reflected in the work you’ve done.” He gestured around, much pride in his voice.

“I would do anything for you,” Albino promised. “Your happiness matters much to me.”

Primo smiled. It was rare- something he only afforded to Albino in private. Albino reached up to kiss Primo’s soft lips, reveling in their warmth. They continued like that for a moment until it devolved into heated passion.

“Anything, huh,” Primo asked, his voice slightly huskier.

Albino slid off the bench and relaxed onto his knees. He slid his hands underneath Primo’s robes until he found his cock.

“Anything,” he vowed, ducking his head underneath the robes.

The night continued on. This was the beginning of Primo’s journey of self-healing.

[imperatorium]

Happy Ghoulidays to @joethesparkle, who I was so excited to be paired with for the @ghostsecretsanta event this year! You mentioned fluff and Cirrus and Cumulus along with our sweetest little twins, so the rest kind of unfolded itself. 💖

I wanted to include Nova more than I ended up doing, but I didn't want to presume much about her personality/etc., so if you ever feel like infodumping, hit me up and I'd love to write you a companion piece where she gets to join the fun!

Thank you SO much @stellargh0ul for organizing this and giving me an excuse to kick my butt into gear again and play around in my favourite seasonal Ghost spaces!!

Copia paces the aisle, tree to door. The (v̴i̴n̵ta̴ge!) silver goat horns in his hand swing like a thurible and each time they don't smack against one of the pews, Cirrus makes a point to audibly exhale. It's a sound of relief, to go with the feeling embedded within her every time the decoration misses a potential demise. Were Sister Imperator here to see her child treat one of his inheritances as an extension of his anxiety, surely her sounds would be more effective - offense, instead of reaction.

Copia paces the aisle, tree to door. The (v̴i̴n̵ta̴ge!) silver goat horns in his hand swing like a thurible and each time they don't smack against one of the pews, Cirrus makes a point to audibly exhale. It's a sound of relief, to go with the feeling embedded within her every time the decoration misses a potential demise. Were Sister Imperator here to see her child treat one of his inheritances as an extension of his anxiety, surely her sounds would be more effective - offense, instead of reaction.

Cumulus picks up her hand and squeezes it. "Re͜m͒͡em̮͜b̮͒͜e̮r h͡o̮w t̮͒h͜e͒y f͜oug͜ḫ͒͜t̮ f͜o͜r th͡o̮͡se̮ a̮͡s͜ b͜͡a̮b͒͡ie͒͡s?" Her beautiful grin relaxes Cirrus's shoulders, tensed because someone's has to be while decorating for AntiChristmas, otherwise it would not be AntiChristmas as she knows it. "Tḫ͒ey a̮r͒e͒͜ indest͜ruct͒ib̮͡l̮e͡!"

"Th̷e̵m̵ o̵r h̵or̴ns?"

"O͡u̮͡r l̮͜i͒tt̮͜l̮e͒͜͡ t͜ḫem̮͒s," Cumulus asserts.

But Copia looks so fragile and Cirrus can't help but worry that she's been away from him too long, her little responsibility.

"Si̮͜s͒͜t͒e͜r̮ w͒a͡s͡ o͒͜u͜r res̮p͒͡o͜n͜si̮b̮i͡li̮͡t̮͒y͜," Cumulus trills, like she hadn't given way for Umbra and Storm to step into her stage role in order to remain by Copia's side during Perpetua's inaugural tour.

"Tra̵ns̴itive pr̴̵op̴ert̵̴i̴es," says Cirrus. Their laughter is harmonious, melodic, and roaring.

"Oh! Oh, this is funny to you. Okay," Copia interjects, stepping a little more purposefully towards the altar where his infernal godmothers perch. "Yes, let's all ha-ha about it."

He hates when they do this, usually, but Cirrus and Cumulus don't know what else to do besides tilt their heads to the side, expressions unreadable to most. How do they tell him they're not making fun of the plight he's whipped up for himself, but rather making decades-old human jokes to each other about how much they love him? How do they tell him now, if he doesn't already know?

"O̮͒͡v͜er̮t͡h͒͜͡i̮͜n͒͜ki͒͜͡n͒͡g̮͒,͜ L͡i͒t̮tl̮͒e͜͡ Su͡n͡sh͜i͒͡n͡e̮͡!" Cumulus says. Like mother, like son. "You͒͜ h͜a̮͡v͒e͒͡ dr͒e͒ss͡ed u̮͒p t͡ḫ͡is v̮͒e͜ry̮͡ tr͒e̮e a̮͡lo͒͜n͒g͜͡si͡d̮e g̮͡re͜͡a͒͡t̮e͜r a̮͡d͡ve͡r͜s͡a͒r͡i̮e͜s͜."

"Ehh," Copia doesn't really concede.

And the Ghoulettes do, to their credit, understand the logic - Nihil's other boys looked down on the little rat king, but (…from a certain point of view) Perpetua replaced him.

"I don't even know what he looks like," their boy's agitation continues. "Always with the stupid mask! Why can't he just do just paint like the rest of us? Phantom of the Paradise bullshit."

The Ghoulettes exchange knowing glances and, this time, Copia sees them do so. Cumulus, still helmeted in her leather and goggles. Cirrus donning her veil and branded volto.

"You wear masks," he sighs.

"An̴d̵ y̴ou hav̵e alw̴̵a̴ys̴ know̴̵n us."

"d͚̠̤̲̤̟nͯ̈̆̈ǔ͚̠̈̆̈ͯ̈ʇ̤̟͚̠͚̱ͯ̈o̤̟̤̲ͯ̈ ď̤̲̤̥̈ɹ̌̈ͯ̈ǝ̤̲͚͙̌̈ͯ̈̂̈s͚̱̤̲ͯ̈o̤̥," Copia apologises and takes back to wearing a path in the carpet. He puts his hands on his hips to stare up at the undecorated, black tree. "What do I even say to him?"

"S̵peak̵ of̵ co̴m̴m̵ona̵̴l̴i̵t̴i̵es̵," Cirrus suggests. "Wha̵t̴ m̴̵a̵kes you̵ f̴it t̵̴o̴g̵e̴th̴̵e̴r."

"A͒͡n̮͡d͒͡ of̮ di͜f͜͡fere͒͡n̮͜͡c͒es͡," adds Cumulus. "S͡o͡ y͜͡o͒͜u͒͜ c̮a̮n̮͜ l͒͡ear͡n̮͜!"

"Th̵e p̵robl̴em̴ in̵ M̵e̵x̵i̵c̴o̵̴."

"H͜e h͒͡a͡s͡ a d͜au͒͡g͒͡h͡te̮͡r!"

"A daughter?" Copia asks. He's intentionally skirting away from the former suggestion, hoping Cirrus never learned about his hand in that particular little curse that got out of hand. (But of course she did.)

"Sort̵ o̵f."

"Ye͜s̮͒͡,̮͒͡ s͒or͒͜t o͡f̮͡."

"Maybe she would like to put the horns up," he mutters, though not realistically expecting to avoid scrutiny for the suggestion.

Cirrus stretches, comes down off the altar. "Co̵pi̵a." She bumps his shoulder, sure to let him feel her mane tickle his neck, his ears, even if it's not visible in the moment. "It̴ i̵s̵ h̵i̴s̵ t̵urn."

He sags and Cumulus scuttles down, too, so they can support him together.

"Do you remember when it was my turn? My first turn, finally?" Of course they did. "The year Papa died and Sister - Mama…she could not even look at me."

"Sweet boy." Cirrus does her best to emulate Imperator's tone and bonks against their boy's temple, a semblance of a kiss. "M̴ot̴h̴e̴̵r w̵a̴s̵ a̵lwa̴ys look̴ing."

"S͜͡h͒e͜ s͜ti͒l̮͒͡l͡ i͡s," Cumulus reminds.

"Yes? Yes. She is and I think that means she should be here to meet her son and give him his -" Copia shakes the horns in a tight fist. "- birthright. Fucking V."

"P̵̴erpe̴t̵u̴a̵," Cirrus insists, only a modicum of sternness and a side of gentle correction.

"P͡e̮t̮͜͡!" Cumulus says at the same time. "O͒r͜ P͔ͤeet̫ͤ."

"A̵uror̵a calls̴̵ h̵im P͔ͤeet̫ͤ, ye̴s."

"I don't want to call him anything," Copia grumbles, trying to find a box of decorations to dig into as a distraction.

There's a knock on the chapel door.

"No!" Copia pops up from his chosen box, waggles the horns immediately, dissentingly. "If he cannot open it himself, then that is his problem!"

Before the Ghoulettes can tsk him again, the door opens and they are privileged to bear witness to a miracle.

Copia, standing straight and stiff as a rod, sees in his twin their father - a Nihil he's never known, beaming at him and arms thrown open, not just ready but eager - aching, dying - for an embrace.

Perpetua, through the tears in their matching eyes, sees in his twin their mother - a stoic, cautious figure who realizes he's been guiltily, desperately longing for this moment his whole life.

The silver goat horns for the top of the AntiChristmas tree hang, an offering, between them.

"These are for you," Copia blurts before responding to his brother's overt request for a hug. His eyes are wet, too. "It's your turn to, heh." He gestures at the bare, ready tree. Shrugs his shoulders. "You know."

Cirrus pulls Cumulus close, just as Copia and Perpetua do the same. Sister's babies, reunited. Their indestructible babies.

[joethesparkle]

Big cuddle pile for @emo-clown-in-hell 's Secret Santa gift! I had a lot of fun doing this, I hope you like it! 🫶🫶

[aimond-cola]

My Secret santa for @mothman-loves-ghost !!! I hope you like it <33

[textsfromhannibal]

Ghost Secret Santa 2025

This is my humble Ghost Secret Santa offering for @r0ttenbread, who mentioned the tricycle(s) as a favorite point of Ghost lore. Personally, I’ve always wondered where the big mint-colored trike ended up, and I really wanted to find a way to bring the brothers together. Let’s see if they can spend a nice Yule together, shall we? :D I hope you enjoy!

Rating: PG (language, mention of drinking wine and smoking cigarettes) Genre: Slice of life, holiday, comfort read Characters: Perpetua (POV), Copia, Judith

Perpetua knows that the winter holidays can be… fraught.

It makes sense, now that he’s started to embrace not only the subversion of his previous faith, but a more natural philosophy of the world. Yuletide, the Winter Solstice—they celebrate the longest silence, the darkest night, the pulse that ebbs during sleep and quickens with the rising sun. Some of the voices that greet him in the confessional become introspective once snow starts to fall in earnest; instead of regaling him with wonderful tales of perversion and self-indulgence, he listens as Siblings express reservations about calling home and sketch out their personal holiday dramas in both hilarious and heartbreaking detail.

Some of the stories they tell could be his.

He’s still uncertain what it actually means, to have a family. In truth, he’s the happiest he’s ever been, even if that joy has come with its share of confusion and grief and anxiety. Here at the Ministry, he has parents he can speak to, demand answers from, even if he’s learned to keep his mouth shut around his uncannily perceptive mother. There are choirs to listen to, ghouls to bicker with, a library that enthralls him with its secrets and private rituals to tempt him in the night.

But there’s one figure that remains a mystery to him. A man who doesn’t seem to know how to be as aloof as he wants to be, but is quickly figuring it out. A man who’s thrown himself into work he doesn’t understand in an effort to distract himself from losses he feels too keenly, who often crashes on the couch in his office rather than risk encountering Perpetua on one of his sleepless midnight jaunts through the Ministry.

Copia. His brother. His twin.

And as Perpetua takes a moment to fan incense through the confession box one snowy evening, cleansing the space of heavy energies so the work can continue anew, he considers that to have a family is not the same thing as being part of a family. The one he’s inherited is decimated, fractured, a hallway full of empty rooms and locked doors.

If they won’t open for him, maybe they’ll open for the season.

The problem is that Perpetua isn’t terribly fond of the holidays.

Granted, an orphanage upbringing doesn’t typically lend itself to the creation of gauzy childhood memories. The nuns at the convent school, while generous within their limited financial means, always ignored his hopeful Christmas lists and presented him with bland sweaters and moralizing novels and dolls he had no interest in fussing over, and it’s only now that he can look back and extend them any kind of grace. Mostly because there were other children happy to trade their history books and art supplies for ugly plastic tat, and the Holy Sisters would simply shrug and carry on once they caught him brindled in glitter glue. 

But the Christmas tree was always a source of disappointment for him, and the idea of extending that disappointment to another person is enough to make his skin crawl.

Besides, while Perpetua’s never had much use for toys—when the Ministry marketing team proposed designing a plush likeness of him, he laughed until his mask dug into his cheekbones—it seems Copia loves them. The plush Papas littering every surface in the admin wing attest to that.

Perpetua knows nothing about toys. Which means he needs a personal shopper.

Judith is a consummate administrative professional. Judith will also start yapping the instant Perpetua shoves a $12 latte into her hands. Over a series of midday smoke breaks, she confirms all of his worst suspicions—that his brother “isn’t feeling” the holiday spirit this year, that he’s been moping over old family films, that he reached for a pen the other day and accidentally grabbed the toothbrush he’s started keeping in his desktop utensil cup.

More importantly, she tells him where Copia shops.

“He likes novelty stuff,” she eventually decides, after giving the question of what do I buy your boss? some thought. “His computer is covered in stickers…”

“Satan is coming back to conquer a world already conquered by trash,” Perpetua sighs. “I’d prefer something consumable, or useful, or meaningful…”

“Like what?” Judith chuckles. “A new censer? A lovingly embroidered altar cloth?”

“Something better than a plain cardigan,” Perpetua grumbles. “I used to get the choir conductor special.”

“You and he both have a closet full of bespoke jackets, and the dry-cleaning budget doesn’t get reevaluated for another month.” Judith brightens. “You know, almost every week something shows up from the pet store?”

“Pet store?”

“Yeah! Frater has pet rats. They’re the only reason he leaves the office, sometimes.” Caught up in her own enthusiasm, or perhaps fueled by caffeine, she treats him to a rare grin. “You could get something for them?”

Perpetua can work with that.

So, he scrolls on his phone during quiet moments in the confessional, hugging his discarded right gauntlet between his knees. He considers what it’s like to be a rat, he becomes the rat, and he fills his virtual pet shop basket with a colorful array of woolen nests and dangly nibblers and yogurt treats. Just as he’s about to check out, the Suggested for You section pulls him up short, and he discovers there are pleather sofas for small animals, tiny console tables and apple stick faux lamps. This knowledge sends him gallivanting across the Internet in search of artisan rat furniture, and by the time a Sibling steps into the celebrant’s compartment and makes the anticrux, Perpetua can hear the warm glow of satisfaction in his own voice.

Three days later, his satisfaction evaporates so quickly that he begins to regret paying for rush shipping.

“What is this?” A miniature pleather sofa bounces atop Perpetua’s paperwork, forcing him to look up from his desk. His office is located in the old wing, a long, narrow room lined with stained-glass windows, the gray stone walls damp and drafty. The sole electrical outlet is devoted to his laptop, and he’s come to rely on diffused sunlight and a few battered candelabras rescued from the basement to get any work done.

Copia almost disappears into the shadows. Only the jewels pinned on his chest glitter, now, though his eyes are trying to glare like searchlights.

“It’s a Yule gift.” Perpetua sets down his pen and reaches for his gloves, suddenly feeling exposed without them. “For your pets.”

“They’ll tear this apart in five minutes.” Copia gestures disdainfully toward the toy. “Eat the stuffing, I’ll end up… eh, rushing someone off for intestinal surgery…”

Confused, Perpetua wonders, “If that’s a risk, then why do they sell it?”

“Why did you buy it?” Copia’s suspicion seems to conjure a blast of arctic air. “You don’t know about my rats.”

“I wasn’t sure what else to get—”

“Who told you I have rats?”

“You wrote a whole song about them!” Perpetua points out. “The Clergy wouldn’t let me take it off the setlist, they said the parishioners would riot!”

And this is exactly the wrong thing to say. Copia takes a step forward, and for a brief moment appears to loom over Perpetua’s desk despite his lack of height. “Look, I appreciate the… effort. The gesture. But if you want to say something to me, just say it to my face.”

“I fucked up.” Perpetua tries to stand. “Mi dispiace…”

“Just… leave my rats out of it.” Copia directs his glare to the laptop, where the Sibelius app displays a few bars of freshly dictated music. “You don’t even know their names. You addressed the card To: Rats.”

Later that night, as Perpetua tries to fall asleep, he replays this encounter in his mind. He should take Copia at his word, abandon this stupid plan, but his memory keeps lingering on the way his brother’s eyebrow twitched as he spat out say it to my face. In retrospect, maybe a crate full of pet supplies, delivered out of nowhere, came across as a little passive. Or presumptuous? He’s still not entirely certain how to interpret the man’s reaction.

The only thing he knows is that he needs to do better next time.

“Video games,” Judith suggests, stomping snow off her boots as they shiver together outside the administrative fire exit. “Old video games. Think no save file, no problem.”

Perpetua knows nothing about toys and even less about fucking video games. The History of Console Gaming shorts he ends up watching in the confessional only leave him confused and mildly overstimulated, until a chatty Brother overhears them on his way inside. Thirty minutes later, Brother Donovan is absolved for the next three months and Perpetua is looking up local antique stores, even as he comes to terms with the fact that game cartridges now qualify as stock for antique stores.

He spends far more time than he should searching through scuffed plastic totes and musty shelves, flicking past titles that mean nothing to him.

He’s about to give up when he strikes gold.

When anxiety threatens to undermine his resolve, Perpetua reminds himself why he’s doing this. To open the lines of communication, to assuage his own curiosity. Foregoing his ecclesiastical uniform, he enters the administrative offices near five p.m., when the world outside is already dark and lamplit. Judith and the other employees are pulling on their heavy coats, preparing to brave the brutal squall outside, and she offers him a supportive thumbs-up as he brushes snow out of his hair.

Of course, Copia is still in his office. Seated behind his boxy old monitor, quick to look up in surprise when Perpetua knocks on the open door.

“Can we try this again?” Perpetua flashes a wrapped present at Copia from the doorway. “With more talking?”

Copia hesitates. The light in his newly decorated office is warm; he looks small and stiff in his office chair. “I’m supposed to preside over Vespers tonight—”

“I’ll do it for you if you let me give you this present.” Perpetua eyes the flat, square box. “And if you answer my questions about it, because I still have no idea why this is such a big deal.”

Copia clearly wants to remain aloof… but his own curiosity wins out. Pulling his mouth to the side, he eyes the box before rising from his chair. “Fine, entra.”

The office couch is profoundly uncomfortable, and Perpetua begins to wonder if his brother is a fellow insomniac or just a masochist. The scanty seat forces them into close quarters, too close, and Perpetua angles his spine toward the left arm as he passes the box over. Copia tears off the paper, an action that strikes Perpetua as sinful and decadent compared to the way he was taught to carefully pluck open gifts, even to use scissors to slice the tape, in anticipation of the wrapping paper being reused.

The cartridge is housed inside a clear acrylic box. Copia blinks at it, and Perpetua rushes to fill the silence. “One of the Siblings told me that Stadium Events is a rare title for the… NES? I know it’s supposed to have a kind of mat, I haven’t found that part yet…”

Copia thumbs open the case and withdraws the cartridge, squinting at the label. “V…”

“Beginner’s luck, I guess.” Nerves jangling, Perpetua folds his hands between his knees where his coat parts around them. “That I found it, I mean…”

“How much did you pay for this?” And Perpetua might feel insulted by this question, except that… for the first time, he can see an emotion other than anger or sadness or resignation glowing in his brother’s eyes.

If he didn’t know better, he’d bet good money that Copia is on the verge of cracking up.

“Far too much money for a piece of plastic,” Perpetua admits. “Fifty bucks.”

With an abrupt snort, Copia sets the cartridge down on his knee and strips off his gloves, revealing pale hands that remind Perpetua too much of his own. Before Perpetua can protest, his brother begins digging his thumbnail under the cartridge sticker. It peels off with astonishing ease, revealing another, even older label beneath.

“You probably don’t know this,” Copia mutters, struggling to contain his smile, “but The Uncanny X-Men is, ah… widely considered the worst NES game of all time.”

“It’s another game? It’s not the stadium thing?” Without thinking, Perpetua seizes the cartridge so he can confirm. “Who would do this? Did someone get the labels switched?”

“Working copies of Stadium Events go for fifty thousand at auction,” Copia notes with feigned dispassion, tugging on his gloves. “My guess is that someone knows that, and, ah… they also thought you knew that.”

“Fifty thousand dollars for an old video game?!” Thanks to this outburst, Perpetua learns that his brother is capable of laughter. 

The sound is clumsy, nasal, conscious of itself. But it qualifies as laughter.

“I’m sorry you got ripped off,” Copia coughs out, once he trusts himself to speak.

“This is ridiculous,” Perpetua rants. “I’m figuring out who did this, I’m cursing them at the next Black Mass—”

“…And I’m sorry I was rude last time.”

An apology is the last thing Perpetua expected to hear. Taking a moment to find his center, he admits, “It’s my fault. I should just… ask you what you want. Instead of assuming I can figure it out.”

Copia gusts out a breath, admitting, “I’m not so good with surprises anymore, fratello…”

“Neither am I.” Perpetua remembers the shock he felt when his mother reappeared in his life, the ease with which she flipped his world upside down. “I knew better than to guess, but… you don’t seem very open to the idea of talking to me. Some days, I think you want me to go back out on tour.”

For a long while, Copia lapses into silence. Considering the situation, the motivation behind it. In time, he shares, “This past year, I think what I want has… changed with every day. Every minute.”

Perpetua knows this feeling well. “I get it.”

“Sometimes, I wish I never set eyes on you.” Copia’s throat bobs. “Sometimes, you’re all I want to see.”

Returning to square one, Perpetua chooses his next question with care. “What’s the best gift you ever received?”

As it turns out, Copia does have a bedroom. A lavish space that he obviously had no hand in designing, where the bed is currently being used to organize laundry and five rats cavort through a series of interconnected cages. Inside the closet, hidden behind the garment bags containing his old tour costumes, there’s a cherry-red tricycle that still has a bow attached to the handlebars.

“Is this from when you were a child?” Perpetua asks, already knowing that can’t be the case. The paint is pristine.

“It was a welcome home gift from Mom.” Copia’s shrug is awkward. “I had a bigger one, but it got misplaced somehow, during all the… you know, opening the new Ministry plant, shipping things around.”

“You like toys,” Perpetua observes. 

“Sì, they, ah…” Copia’s mouth kicks up a little at the corners. “They remind me of happier times. I didn’t grow up with a lot of kids, I sort of had… objects.”

“I grew up with a lot of kids, but not a lot of things.” Reaching down, Perpetua tries chiming the little bike bell. “I suppose I learned to live without. Toys, and—”

“Family.” Copia studies his face, and for once Perpetua feels no desire to shy away. “Would you like to… see your family?”

Movie night becomes a thing.

Yule draws nearer, and the Ministry population dwindles as many of its members, none of them bound to the place save by the exercise of their own free will, head off for family visits or long-awaited vacations. For a week, things are relatively quiet. The confessional sits empty, the ghouls busy themselves with decorations and technical rehearsals.

Perpetua learns what it’s like, to be invited in from the cold.

Copia doesn’t open up easily. Perpetua soon learns that’s because the other man thinks he has little left to share. It doesn’t take too many old film reels, too much backstage footage before Perpetua sees why his first gift was received as an insult. Copia becomes so animated when he’s narrating his mother’s story, he seems to escape the inexorable pull of middle-age inertia while explaining his family’s legacy. When there are no more family movies to share, when they instead start putting on Technicolor holiday classics to pass the time, the way Copia has to fight to keep from tapping his feet, from singing along, slams the evidence book shut and leaves Perpetua feeling like a complete asshole.

Because Copia clearly understands that his job is to prepare the way for Perpetua. He’s passed the mitre and the microphone over, and the idea that his twin would then try to claim knowledge of his pets, his hobbies, the few things that still feel like they're his….

Perpetua was a fool to try. But he’d be even more foolish to give up now.

Perpetua watches his brother like a hawk. He sees the roles he’s trying to fill—theologian, operations officer, visionary. He recognizes the things he does well, notes the time he sets aside for training the new ghouls and the encouraging way he speaks to an often frazzled Judith. He learns that his brother’s laughter is rare and his wisdom runs deep and that nightmares plague his sleep, too. That he’s learned to grab a few minutes of shut-eye whenever he can, which explains the damn couch.

One day, instead of flopping down for his own afternoon nap, Perpetua returns the mislabeled game cartridge to a very apologetic antique store owner. Choosing the path of peace, he leaves the establishment un-cursed and wanders down the snowy sidewalk toward his car, only to find himself distracted by a nearby window display. A touring bicycle sits behind the glass, done up to the nines, with a glittering candy-stripe paint job and neon green rims.

BIKE WRAPPING AND CUSTOMIZATION, a sign declares. TWO-DAY TURNAROUND.

It’s only one day until Yule… but five until Christmas.

Perpetua’s still learning the Old Ways. He can blame the force of habit.

That night, over Chinese takeaway and It’s A Wonderful Life, Perpetua wonders, “I saw you signed off on shipping the backline to the east coast today… isn’t there some way the company can track down that big tricycle of yours?”

“Eh, it’s been years now.” Copia spears another piece of broccoli with his fork. “It’s a shame, that beauty made getting around the Ministry much easier.”

Perpetua casts out a line. “I wish you could find it.”

Copia bites, attention absorbed by the movie. “Non sei l'unico.”

If not for his brother’s firmly enforced no phones during the movie rule, Perpetua would settle the matter right then and there.

By the time Perpetua gets to his laptop, he’s practically buzzing with energy. By the sweet mercy of Satan, the bike store website tells him that customization can be rushed for the holidays, and he stays up until five in the morning comparing color swatches and watching videos and even trying his best to guess Copia’s weight in order to pick out the most comfortable seat. He’s still not used to having disposable income, the total at the end nearly puts him flat-assed on the floor, but he clicks the final confirmation button as sunlight begins to kiss the sky and make it blush.

By sunset, his final gift attempt is crammed into the back of his car, and his heart is lodged in his throat.

The ghouls have outdone themselves with the tree at the Ministry Yule party, and that makes Perpetua want to turn right around and drag his gift back to the garage.

But he doesn’t. While the rectory is still empty, he wheels across the room and reverses his present into the old broom closet that now serves as a secondary pantry. He stands guard in front of that door for two hours, waiting for the party to begin and then to continue on, ghouls and Siblings and Clergy members arriving singly and in pairs, habits and cassocks exchanged for glittery party duds. There are so many live garlands strung along the doorways that Perpetua wonders whether he should check on the nearby forest, the smell of pine and bayberry so strong that he can barely taste the canapes he keeps pilfering from any catering company waiter brave enough to approach a sullen man in a skull mask.

Finally, Copia arrives. Refreshingly red-jacketed, smile just a bit wider than usual. He seems to welcome the opportunity to socialize, he falls into easy old patterns with the ghouls, he’s the first to scold their naughty behavior and the last to stop egging them on. Perpetua stands taller, looking to catch his eye; Copia claps his hands together in recognition, grabbing a rectangular parcel from beneath the tree before making his way over.

“Buon Yule, fratello,” Copia says, offering the package with a smile that seems far too shy for a man with silver hair.

Perpetua freezes, even as his mind races on without him. Somehow, he hadn’t imagined that he would receive anything. “You got me a present?”

“Of course,” Copia says, his smile dimming a few degrees. “Even if you weren’t my brother, you’re… you’re here, now.”

When Perpetua accepts the box, the way the contents shift tells him that it’s an item of clothing. At that point, it’s only sheer determination to make friends with Copia that drives him to tear into the wrapping paper like a proper Satanist. Opening the box, he prepares himself for disappointment.

Only there’s none to be found.

It’s a sweater, sure enough. A lurid purple sweater shot through with metallic stripes, festooned with silver skulls, a travesty against fashion and the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“Judith told me you used to get, ah… Catholic uniform surplus, or something like that?” Copia shakes his head, his eyes crinkling. “Well, that won’t stand here.”

“Thank you.” It isn’t until he feels his mouth twitching that Perpetua realizes how seldom he smiles. “It’s perfect. But you know, you took me to task for not talking to you…”

“Oh, I bought this months ago.” Copia stutters in his speed to correct this misunderstanding. “Judith wasn’t giving me shopping advice, we were just gossiping. Brown sugar cappuccino, she’ll tell you anything you want to know…”

Perpetua finally lets himself laugh. “Then truly… thank you.”

“Prego.” Copia clears his throat. “Well, ah, the night is young—”

Those sound like Frater taking his leave noises, so Perpetua hurries to open the closet door. 

Copia stares at the new tricycle so long, Perpetua has to ground himself. To inventory five things in his immediate environment, to assure himself the music hasn’t stopped and the other partygoers aren’t watching this family drama unfold. But this isn’t a sitcom, and no one is fixated on the closet except for his brother, who now seems to be visibly reminding himself to breathe.

“It’s not the old one.” Setting his new sweater on a nearby table, Perpetua grabs the trike and wheels it out. Rather than flat mint, the frame is wrapped in reflective teal with a duochrome gold effect; the wheels are gold, the spokes studded with merrily tinkling white beads, and gold tinsel streams from the handlebars. “I was going to add a basket to the back, but I wasn’t sure I’d have time to glue on your insignia…”

“This is…” A few people are watching, now, a murmur of amusement working its way through the crowd. “You did this for me?”

“You said it’d be useful to you.” Perpetua backs up, giving Copia room to approach the trike. “And I thought the blue and gold would be more noticeable in the halls…”

Copia tests the fancy ergonomic handles. He dings the bright brass bell. He rolls the wheels back and forth just to confirm that the beads on the wheels do rattle, and then he’s in the seat. Looking somehow ten years younger, his dark eye reflecting the colored lights strung on the tree, proud as a new, literal papa with his oversized tricycle.

Perpetua decides that his brother really is ridiculous… but at this point, he might have room in his life for ridiculous.

“Hop on,” Copia says, thumbing toward the crossbar in back.

“What, to…” Perpetua never even did this as a kid. “Need I remind you that we’re both edging toward knee replacement territory?”

“If you don’t hop on, you can’t help me steer,” Copia points out. “And if you don’t help me steer, chances are good I’m going to hit that tree, yeah?”

Perpetua peers across the room. “How in Lucifer’s name would you hit–”

“He’ll crash into the tree,” a ghoul says, maneuvering her champagne flute under her mask. “Trust me. He will find a way.”

Perpetua thinks to pull his new sweater over his black dress shirt, and he’s grateful for this moment of foresight, because neither he nor his brother return to the party. Instead, after a tour of the Ministry that involves liberating the tricycle from a corner no less than three times, the two of them end up in Copia’s office, drinking wine and emptying a container of gingersnaps gifted by the estate realtors who handled the purchase of the building.

“This isn’t so bad, hm?” Copia decides, as the wind billows snow against the windows.

“No,” Perpetua agrees, so warmly bundled in acrylic glitter yarn that he can feel his eyes drifting shut. “It’s not.”

Hours later, the door will open and a head will poke inside. Perpetua won’t see his mother, somehow having managed to fall asleep sitting upright on his brother’s sofa. If Copia interacts with her, he’ll never talk about it, but perhaps nothing needs to be said.

Perhaps it’s enough that she sees them together.

[sacred-coffin]

MERRY SHITSCRAM

@sentientgolfball i was your secret satanic santa (I hope I didn't keep you waiting too badly...)

Here's a little fic for you :3c

Aether/Dewdrop, breeding kink, a little sprinkle of daddy kink & medfet, and a healthy dash of silly. Enjoy!!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

also @ghostsecretsanta

[stellargh0ul]

Secret Santa Gift

Hi @wrathofrats! I was your Secret Santa this year. I've got a delicious beginning to what will be a fun evening for Phantom for you, also starring Aether, Dewdrop, and Rain! I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

it starts out innocently enough. a wink here and a smile there, just something to excite the senses and get the mind racing as it thought about what more there could be. Phantom is an expert at these kinds of things, riding the fine line between antagonism and flirting like a thoroughbred stallion.

he escalates eventually— teasing brushes against them in the halls, a hand in the middle of their back, a lascivious grin aimed in their direction. it’s all fun and games, something to pass the time, something to make the days at the ministry before they headed back out on tour more fun. he has no intention of actually following through on the promises he’s teasing them with.

all of them; it’s no fun if he only has one victim, after all.

Phantom isn’t expecting everyone he’s flirting with to talk, though. for them to compare notes, realizing he’s doing this to all of them. for them to realize he’s stringing them along for a lark, dragging out the act of wrapping his tail around their waist or purposefully hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on a popsicle.

they’re not supposed to talk. it’s meant to be all fun, not something that gets him cornered in the ghoul quarters one evening with Dewdrop, Rain, and Aether all folding their arms as they look him over. the group is standing between him and the exit to the room, the large communal nest brushing against the back of his legs.

he laughs, the sound high and nervous as he looks them over. there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as they all exchange knowing glances. Dew cocks his head to the side, his tail lashing from side to side as he takes one step towards Phantom and then another.

“you thought you could get away with the way you’ve been teasing us, didn’t you?”

“I don’t— I wasn’t—“

“don’t try to deny it,” Aether rumbles, folding his arms across his chest. he’s leaning casually in the doorway as if the three of them aren’t eyeing Phantom like a meal they’re going to devour.

“Rain mentioned how he was going crazy, with the way you’re acting. and funny enough, I was about to complain about the same thing.”

Dew’s smile is large enough to show his sharp, pointed canines, a sight that does funny things to Phantom’s cock. even though this is basically his worst nightmare, having everyone he’s been fantasizing about for weeks in the same room is certainly giving him butterflies. he’d picked his targets for a reason, after all.

and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“all of us were, in fact. imagine how we felt, realizing that you were an equal opportunity offender.”

Rain comes forward to stand next to Dew as Aether remains in the doorway. Phantom giggles, a slightly-off, hysterical sounding noise as he tries to come up with an excuse that will get him out of this room.

“I think I hear— Papa’s calling me, so I have to, um…”

“Papa’s been informed that you’re going to be indisposed for a while. no one’s going to come looking for you, Phantom.”

Dew snickers at the look on his face.

“we just want what you’ve been promising you’d give us all week. is that so hard, following through on your glances and touches?”

“all— all at once?”

“why not? you clearly thought you could handle us all. don’t tell me you’re scared of a little challenge.”

Phantom purses his lips, meeting all of their eyes in turn. he knows that he’s not truly trapped in here— if he asked, they’d let him go. the ghoul trusts his pack mates. but…

the tantalizing little feeling that he’s being pressed into servicing them as punishment for his behavior makes his head go pleasantly fuzzy. who is he to deny them what they so clearly wanted?

as the saying went, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. and Phantom’s ready for his punishment.

“…I think you decided it would take all three of you to handle me,” he purrs, smiling back with a cheeky grin. “but if that’s what you want, i’ll gladly oblige.”

with permission given, Dewdrop surges forward to press a desperate, hungry kiss to Phantom’s mouth. his fangs scrape over the ghoul’s tender lips, eliciting a moan from him as he feels Rain come up to his other side. the water ghoul reaches out to wrap his arm around Phantom’s waist, drawing him close to his body.

the three of them move as one creature together, toppling backwards so that they land in the middle of the pile of blankets and pillows that is the ghoul nest. it smells so strongly of his pack that it makes Phantom start to purr automatically, though the webbed hands roaming over his chest certainly have something to do with it.

when he can come up for air, he sees that Aether’s switched locations, now standing at the edge of the bed to watch them. the large ghoul smiles when he sees Phantom’s gaze on him.

“I think he’s wearing far too many clothes,” he rumbles and Dew looks up from where he’s pressed into the side of Phantom’s neck, nuzzling at the scent point there.

“who put you in charge of this whole thing?” he asks and Aether shrugs, his gaze never once leaving Phantom’s.

“someone has to keep you all in line.”

the hands on his chest that had been groping him through his shirt now go to the buttons there, beginning to unfasten them one at a time. though he grumbles about it, Dewdrop’s own fingers dip beneath the hem of Phantom’s shorts, peeling them down his thighs.

his cock, already half hard, springs free of the fabric. he isn’t wearing underwear, a fact which makes both Rain and Dew whistle long and low.

“you were waiting for this, weren’t you? waiting for someone to put you in your place?”

Aether’s voice is steady, unyielding, even as Phantom’s heart beats fast in his chest.

“get him into position and hold him there.”

Dew and Rain obey with the enthusiasm of excited kittens, grabbing Phantom by the arms and spinning him around so that he’s facing the wall, rather than Aether. before he can protest, they’ve placed hands on his back, forcing him to sink his chest low to the blankets— and causing his ass to stick out into the air for Aether.

they grin down at him as Phantom cranes his head to try and see what’s going on, Rain’s webbed hands reaching down to block his view.

he doesn’t have long to wait, though. he can feel Aether’s bulk moving up behind him before one large palm rests on the meat of his ass, groping none too gently at the tender skin there. Phantom freezes at the implications of what that hand means as Dewdrop smiles down at him with his fangs poking out over his lips, clearly excited.

“you brought this on yourself,” he says, in a tone of voice that betrays what an utter delight he finds the notion.

Aether’s huge hand comes down on Phantom’s asscheek and he yelps as he rocks forward with the force of the blow. instinctively, he tries to pull away from the position they’ve forced him into but Rain and Dew make sure he can’t move too much, grip tight on his wrists.

another slap comes, to the other side of his ass. immediately it feels as though his ass has been set alight, burning pain shooting through him— but he can’t help but feel himself get even harder at the rough treatment, oozing a little bit of precum that drips onto the fabric below him.

Rain’s hand pets down the back of his head, stroking the hair around Phantom’s horns.

“he’s leaking just from getting spanked,” he announces to the room and the ghoul feels his face light up with burning embarrassment. Dew snickers, leaning theatrically over to stare at Phantom’s cock as it continues to drip pre below him as Aether lands smack after smack against his ass.

each one draws noises from Phantom, unable to stop himself from moaning like a bitch in heat as he’s punished for teasing them all these past few weeks. being put in his place sends butterflies racing through his stomach and its a struggle not to just devolve into begging for their cocks. he still has some pride left.

finally, Aether seems satisfied that he’s left Phantom’s ass a red, flaming mess. he’s sure to have bruises for days after this that will make sitting down difficult, every second spent in a seat a reminder of this moment.

those hands that have been torturing him come to rest on his hips, Aether’s palms wide enough that he can almost wrap them entirely around Phantom.

“you took your punishment well,” he praises and Rain reaches out to wipe the tears from Phantom’s cheeks that he hadn’t even realized were there. the praise settles beside the butterflies in his stomach, forming a growing knot of heat inside him. he feels wound like a spring, as though he’d explode at any moment.

he wants them to keep touching him. needs it like he needs air.

“please,” Phantom groans out, and he feels Aether settle on the bed beside him. the hand in his hair rubs soothing circles over his scalp.

“please what, little ghoul?”

“use me,” he begs, all semblance of rationality gone. he needs relief for his aching cock or it feels like the warmth inside him will consume him until there’s nothing left.

Aether laughs.

“when you ask so nicely… sure. we can do that. Dew, you want first dibs?”

“hell yeah,” Dewdrop says, scrambling from his place beside Phantom. he can hear the sound of fabric hitting the ground as Dew sheds his clothing, coming to a stop behind Phantom. there’s the noise of a cap flicking open and then fingers press cold lube to his hole. he jolts at the sudden sensation, though it’s what he’d been asking for, and Aether catches his gaze.

“don’t worry. we’ll prep you… at least, a little bit. can’t make this too easy for you, can we?”

true to his word, Dew eases a finger inside Phantom— but the motion is a little too fast, a little too raw, to be truly comfortable. but he likes the burn, likes the way that Dew moves inside him to push at his walls, forcing his body to accommodate him instead of waiting for it to adapt naturally. it feels right, them taking what they want from Phantom.

a second finger is added quickly, too quickly for it to be comfortable, and then a third. Dew hooks them inside Phantom, searching for the spot that will make him cry out, and when he finds it, he pushes his fingers against it relentlessly. it makes Phantom moan every time he passes over the sensitive place, colors bursting behind his eyelids.

its only the hand still in his hair that keeps him grounded, Rain’s gentle ministrations anchoring him to the here and now with the three of them.

when Dew finally decides he’s been prepped enough, he pulls his fingers back out of Phantom, mindful of his claws. hands settle on his hips again, holding him in place as he feels the heat of the fire ghoul’s cock press right up against his hole. more lube dribbles between them to ease the glide as Dew slots himself against Phantom and presses inside.

he’s warm, uncomfortably so, but that’s nothing compared to the delicious feeling of the ridges on his cock sliding against Phantom’s inner walls. he lets his mouth fall open in a long groan as Dew feeds more and more of his cock inside, finally bottoming out. he gives Phantom only seconds to adjust to the stretch of what’s inside him before he starts to move, pulling back and slamming his hips forward.

it makes Phantom’s eyes roll back in his head. he rocks with the force of Dew’s thrust, gripping tightly to the sheets below him as if they’ll hold him to the earth through this. Rain coos down at him as Aether watches with a small smile, supervising the entire ordeal as if he’s above it all.

with how good this feels already, Phantom has no idea how he’s going to make it through the other two taking their turns. but he’s excited to find out.

[apocalypticghouleh]

Merry Christmas @ghoul3tt3!!! I was your Secret Santa this year! I’ve drawn Rain and Dew sharing a kiss in the snow. I wanted to do something sweet and fluffy for these boys, and I think I was successful! This was so much fun to draw, and I’m really proud of how it turned out! I hope you like it, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you so much @stellargh0ul / @ghostsecretsanta for organizing this event!!!