Papa Primo - Blog Posts

YES! OMG THIS!

I feel for Cardi I do but… my soul breaks for the other Papas that were treated like garbage and they’re fucking dead in a plexiglass coffin.

At least Cardi has a position and he is alive!

Terzo, Secondo and Primo deserved better and much more respect.

I need a comic with their backstory + CAN WE PLEASE SEE THEM IN GHOST FORM IN CHAPTERS?????

(I do live strongly for those characters nv)

I need people to stop making Primo nice. The dude is unhinged and evil and terrible and THAT'S WHY I LOVE HIM.

Any smut involving the man should include him killing the other person like a preying mantis.

His first suggestion to his brothers when they come to him for advice is to sell their soul to the Devil even further to make the issue go away. The next suggestion is murder.

He eats nosey reporters who stray too close to the Ministry. He hunts people for sport.

The reason Imperator had him specifically killed was NOT because she was worried about him getting up in arms about Copia's assention, it was because they were running out of cover-up money for his numerous crimes

Nihil should be baffled as to how he produced such offspring.

Hello? Is anyone out here? Can anyone here me? Where is my crazy evil old man?

Me, literally

Unprompted ghost memes

New old Primo pics unearthed by Alex York on IG. It’s the ritual at The Underworld in Camden Town that Perpetua mentioned at The O2!!

if there's one thing that Ghost taught me is that sometimes a family can be a weird old guy, pitbull, a slut (part-time kazoo player), a rat bastard (literally), their long lost brother who thinks hes a vampire, and their dead father/brother (?) who ocasionally comes back to life to do a sick sax solo and then die again

Hello ghost fandom I bring to you my beloved,

Chain ghoul 💕💕💕💕💕

Additional Clarissa lore

These are all the nameless ghouls I have designed for her so far!!!! And beans is a random demon rodent guy she accidentally summoned instead of a ghoul. He's like her lil cat thing she loves him

A lot of the stuff I have for her is still concepts since I'm still trying to finalize her design so her Papal paint keeps changing 🫥🫥🫥

Here's another papal paint design I seriously cannot decide on one 💔

The Fall Festival || Primo

Get lost (and found) in the Ministry’s annual corn maze with the first Papa 🎃

Contents: ≈ 3K words, SFW if you’re not a coward, primal kink if you squint, Vampire?Primo, Primo x gn!Reader

The first in my Autumnal Papa collection to celebrate the season and Halloween!

Your shoulders slump down as you round yet another corner of the labyrinth. A dead end. More corn. Dry husks of leaves crackled like TV static in your ears as you purse your lips in attempt to focus and retrace your steps. How many right turns had you taken? Left? Counting how many times you had run in to impenetrable walls of crops was useless, more times than you had fingers by this point surely. How long had you even been in this corn maze now?

Blood starts pumping through your body just a bit faster as you study the sky, how much darker had the orange clouds gotten? Had it been this cloudy when you arrived? Would it be dark soon? No phones or flash lights were allowed in the maze and all of a sudden every stalk of corn had begun to feel like its own living entity, crowding together and creeping in on you like a pack of over zealous hyenas stalking a gazelle.

Slow down, think rationally. Inhale through your nose, then exha-

The sharp splintering of snapping twigs and hay over gravel stiffen your spine within a fraction of a second, the swift river that was once running rampant through your veins suddenly curdles under your skin as the warmth of weathered palms settle over your shoulders.

“Dolce mostro, it is only I.” The air that had been lodged in your throat suddenly escapes as the familiar, accented drawl reaches your ears.

Swiveling on your heel to face him, the flicker of a pout crosses your face as you let out a huff. Papa Primo must have wandered off at some point during the past ten minutes when you had rapidly walked the aisles, swearing up and down that you definitely knew where you were leading him this time. And then still had the nerve to sneak up and frighten you like that right after!

Without hardly a moment to process the events of the past 60 seconds, you were taken aback by the sudden light touch of Primo’s hand against your face. A warm, damp streak wiped under his thumb over the height of your cheek bone. Not that you maybe had shed a tear or two, no you weren’t crying because you weren’t scared. You were in a field, dust got in your eye. Or something like that.

“It is not very becoming of a young monster to be so spooked, eh?”

Even if his words were a playful jab, his voice felt like a soothing balm, smoothing and curling over the rough edges of your nerves.

A wrinkle of concern marks his brow as he swipes the green make up from your face off from his thumb and on to his opposite palm where he rubbed his hands together to warm them before grasping on to your shoulders. The expression doesn’t last long without his gaze softening as he takes in your painted face once more.

Roughly an hour had been spent earlier that evening, batting your eyelashes at the older man and giving him your best pleading puppy dog eyes in attempt to sway him into giving in to your wishes. You wanted to dress up in costume together, be in spirit while you walked the course of the Autumn Festival.

Eventually, at your rather dedicated insistence, Primo gave in. And although it was far from out of character, you had to admit that he did look a bit out of place now in the fields with a dark colored tail coat draped over a smooth, red satin vest and a frill collared shirt that was only barely more ruffled than his usual garb.

You had rolled your eyes at his dress choice that past afternoon. Io sono Dracula, he had uttered in a feigned rasp of a whisper as he slinked towards you sat in front of the mirrored vanity, he had hardly even succeeded in leaning down towards your neck before being swatted away. Only a few more flutters of your eye lashes were needed to gain his help when you requested he put on your face paint as a favor. He was the expert, after all. 45 minutes later and you had been transformed with creamy green cosmetics applied with sweeping brush strokes, a few gentle smudges with the heel of his hand. So what if your lip stick came off with a little kiss mark or two on his cheek? That was the price to pay to become Frankenstein’s Monster.

Now that once vibrant face paint had dulled over the hours, cracking through your laughter and now smeared over your cheeks as you stared defiantly up at your Papa.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“No, no. Of course not, amore.” Normally the soothing coo of his voice would be comforting, but the bare minimum effort being put in to hiding the teasing smirk growing on his face put that illusion to rest immediately.

“Molto coraggioso.” It was futile to try to resist leaning in to Primo’s hand as he smoothed back your hair lovingly and your eyes drifted closed momentarily before remembering that he still was in fact teasing you when his voice practically purred next to your ear.

“Come now then, I know the way out.” The sentence came out so casually that for a moment you could only stand and stare in bewilderment as he patted your shoulder and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Primo had given up his guidance right at the entrance of the maze and told you to take the reins. Had this god forsaken old man just accepted the aimless wandering this whole time and said nothing?

“I know you did not believe I would allow us to be lost, mio sole.” He commented with a dry chuckle after you had finally swallowed your pride and followed his lead, trailing behind by several feet while peeking around each corner that was passed by. All pouty comments were withheld, even if all you really wanted to do was ask how much better he thought he was if he still allowed the two of you to delve in so deeply into the fields. He could be interrogated once you were a safe fifty feet from this unnerving excuse of a bonding activity.

Time moved slower and slower as the corn stalks blurred together, seeming to grow even taller as the rays of the sunset began to diminish. It had only taken a few minutes of retracing your steps to lose track of the never ending twists and turns of the maze. Gradually you crept closer to Primo, now almost following directly in his footsteps while grasping at the sleeve of his jacket. The arm that he wrapped around your torso is of little comfort as yet another corner is rounded to be met with a dead end.

An unexpected warm breath against your ear cements you into place, the gentle nuzzle of an arched nose against your jaw without being given a chance to process. Primo’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder may have been enough to hide Cheshire cat grin growing over his face but nothing could conceal the shiver that ran down your spine at the feeling of his leather clad finger tips teasingly trailing over your sides.

“Are you plotting something? I thought you knew where we were going.”

“Hmm?” A soft hum reverberates from his chest while he trails his lips over the corner of your jaw, evidently unbothered by your doubts. The chill of the autumn air was quickly rivaled by simmering heat that pushed through your veins upon being pulled closer to Papa followed by a tantalizing flick of his tongue over your ear lobe.

“Tell me, how does that old folk legend go? Of being caught in the wilderness with a vampire?”

“As much as I would adore a retelling, we need to get going. Everybody else we started with has already left us in the dust.”

“Precisely. All the better, no? No one around to hear you gasping for me.” Every nerve in your body tingled, whether it was from the adrenaline of being lost at night or Primo’s words was impossible to differentiate.

His fingers gently trace over the edges of your face as if to wipe away the smudged makeup but the question of if he simply intended to make it even worse arose when a smug smirk came over his face.

"I quite like a little fright on your face." He whispers, his tone taking on a darker, more seductive turn as his thumb brushed over your lower lip before moving back down over the nape of your neck.

“There is nothing wrong with trembling at the thought of what lurks in the dark..” the fluttering of his breath over your skin is enough to coax out a whine while Primo presses in closer to you, crowding over your figure with his own.

“After all, what is prey who is not fearing of the hunt?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Hunting me?” The opportunity to taunt him while he’s on his high horse is impossible to resist and you jump on it, eager to gain back your confident footing. An amused laugh, dark and creaking comes from Primo as the grip on your sides just under your ribs tightens.

“Of course I am, amore.” His nose runs along the vein of your neck in a way that was enough to believe he could drink in your scent in a single breath.

“And I will always catch you.” The threat falls at the small of your throat, as sharp and pointed as the fangs of the creature your Papa imitated. Barely audible whispers breeze against your skin causing goose bumps to wash over your flesh even more effectively than the autumn chill in the air.

“Always watching you. Pursuing you. Always chasing you.”

“Have you forgotten, piccolo mostro?” The small sliver of space between you felt electrified, your breath caught frozen in your throat.

“This is the part where you run.” That rolling R vibrated a blooming fear into your chest, and with one well timed glance only to see the satisfied smirk on the man’s face, you bolted in to the endless twists and turns of the maze.

"Oh, Girasole, where do you think you're going?" Primo laughs as he watches your retreating figure take off, the sound thick and near menacing as it reached your ears. Always playing hard to get, but Primo was not one to let that stop him from having his way.

"That's it. Run." He whispers to himself as his muscles tense in anticipation, the words falling on deaf ears as your foot steps mix with the crunch of gravel further and further away. But the chase has only just begun.

All at once the Papa's instincts kick into gear as he races after you, weaving through the rows of maize while his eyes scan every angle possible to track any sign of movement that didn’t originate from the ground underneath his feet. With every move he makes, his breath catches as he chases after his prey, his heart still thundering in his chest well after pausing to listen for any hint of motion. The faint rustling of dried leaves feels closer to an assault on his ears considering the silence that had now blanketed the field and the pursuit resumes once more as Primo stalks closer to the barrier that separated him from his prize.

Several yards over, just mere rows away the searing burn in your legs finally demanded that you stop to calm the panting breaths that were heaving from your chest. Spinning around to try and gain your bearings seemed fruitless, every intersection of this place was identical to the untrained eye. The thought of surrendering to whatever your Papa had in mind grew more appealing as your head sunk into your hands in an attempt to focus on what routes you had already taken, from entering the maze up to now. Had you passed the scarecrow that sat guarding its own pumpkin head at the dead end to your left before? It’s carved grin seemed to mock you and without a second thought your shoe connects to the side of it with a quiet thud and a grunt of frustration.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find your way out?” Immediately your head snaps up but no time is wasted searching for the source of the taunt, instead opting to rush directly into the wall of corn next to you regardless of what was supposed to be a blockade. There’s a flurry of footsteps and a grumbled accusation of cheating but nothing, no one, trails behind you as you continue to push your hands through the crowded corn stalks. Rigid stems whip across your face and forearms relentlessly with a force that was almost certain to leave sore welts once the adrenaline filled excitement wore off.

The thrill of this renewed game of cat and mouse begins to wane as the realization of having no idea where Primo was hiding hits you. Perching precariously on top of a tree stump a few feet away allows you to stick your head above the top of the maze, hunting the hunter. Without the sight of any movement to give away his location, you settle on swiveling around to see if any route to the finish line can be found. If you kept testing your luck pushing through the walls it would be almost a straight shot, but the noise of doing so is a dead give away itself. A blurred flash of red in the corner of your eye freezes you in place, the wood beneath your feet now more like a sticky glue trap than a look out as you rapidly cycle through your options.

Now that your research time had been cut short, simply memorizing the path to freedom seemed as good of a bet as any and you hop back down to the ground as quietly as possible while repeating the directions to yourself. Left, straight, right, left, straight, then right once more. Then you were done. You win. You would win and could hold it over Papa’s head, gloat a little, see what you could get away with and the possibilities brought a blush to your cheeks.

Getting through the first three intersections was easy enough, effortless, even considering the way your lungs were practically begging for relief once more. Your wits returned after that second left turn and an eerie quiet washed over the fields once more. With how quickly the nagging feeling of being watched was building you nearly expected Primo to pop out from right behind you once more. The once gentle autumn wind had built into what felt more like a glacial freeze as the sun went down while the only sources lighting your path now was the strings of small bulbs hung through the sides of the maze. It was getting harder and harder to differentiate between the rustle of a breeze and foot steps creeping up on you.

All of 50 feet and one more turn was all that was separating you from victory but it still felt a world away from where you stood in place like a statue, fervently wringing your hands and listening to the chatter of drunken festival goers that were beginning to drown out any hope of pinning down the location of your Papa. Keep going straight. One more right turn.

A few stalks of corn being violently shaken roused your attention back into the real world, the sound carried through at least a few turns, hopefully. He was trying to weed you out, scare you out of the corn with enough noise to make you think he had found you. The threat was enough to jolt you back into movement, sprinting on through the intersection and hanging that very last turn in the matter of a minute.

Rows of glowing Jack-o-lanterns with crooked expressions marked the approach to the exit and a preemptive smug sense of confidence took over you. You slowed down as the crowd’s noise filtered back in, gleeful couples of love birds and groups of people passing by the tiki torches that were lit at the end of the path. One young teenager even stopped to cheer for you as she saw you approach, clapping her hands and whooping dramatically before her face contorted into a grimace. Did you really look that rough? Sure that run through the corn probably did a number on you but you couldn’t look that bad..

As quickly as that confidence had appeared, it went up in flames in an instant when the air was drained from your lungs in a vice grip. Greedy fingers latched onto your sides as you stumbled backwards with a swift yank of your weight.

“Caught you, amore.” A familiar growl rumbled like thunder in your ear and sent a trembling shiver down your spine as his body pressed against you.

“You’re mine.”

Mia Arancia || Fluff || Primo x gn!Reader

Tl;dr: Sharing fruit as a love language and Primo deserves a break from gardening in the summer.

This is my first time posting writing on tumblr, I apologize if my formatting is a little clumsy <3

In the enchanting nature of the Ministry’s garden, the rows of greenery were bathed in the golden hues of the rapidly approaching end of the day and appeared as otherworldly as ever. Primo could be seen standing in the middle of his growing vegetables, looking reminiscent of a scarecrow as he marveled over what must’ve been long hours of work, remaining motionless as he stood exactly where you had hoped to find him.

Primo simply observed your leisure stroll as you made your way closer and arched an eyebrow curiously. His gaze flickered between your approaching figure and the horizon, questioning the unexpected visit. Nonetheless, the sight of you beckoning him from the other side of the garden with an eager wave only piqued his interest further. Knowing your penchant for mischief and mystery, a smile tugged at his face when you approached.

Drawing closer to Primo, you tilted your head, studying his countenance intently. His voice, though calm and composed, carried a note of playful suspicion.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" He inquired with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You're up to something, aren't you, mio dolcezzo?"

You shook your head, your faux serious expression suddenly shifting into a wide grin. "No, no," you responded, your voice laden with a faux sense of urgency. "This is a matter of very serious business, my dear. C’mere." With a playful flourish, you waggled your fingers and extended a hand in a hopeful invitation.

Once your fingers had interlaced together, the two of you ventured further into the back corners of the garden. Eventually, your steps came to a halt, leading you to a secluded alcove adorned by a magnificent orange tree. Its branches gracefully bowed under the weight of growing fruit imbued with the warm hues of a setting sun. Primo’s eyes sparkled with delight as his gaze swept over the nearly picturesque scene before him, his eyes moving from the lush emerald leaves to your face. A smile played upon his lips as he clasped your hands in his own, your fingers entwined like an unbreakable bond.

“Ah, you’ve led me to the orange tree,” he whispered, a blend of curiosity and surprise clearly evident in his words. A confused chuckle escaped him.

“I had planned on harvesting these in a few days time.” he admitted with a hint of amusement.

Before he could continue, you drew his attention to a particularly low-hanging branch which bent under the weight of a perfectly ripe orange. Excitement brimmed in your voice as you pointed it out, the already wrinkled sleeve of his shirt crumpled further in your fist in attempt to pull his body closer to the branch in question.

“But look! This one is ripe today.”

Leaning over your shoulder, Papa reached up to gracefully pluck the orange from its branch. A glimmer of admiration danced in your eyes as you watched his movements, amazed by the confidence held in the simple swing of his arm as he brought it back down to open his palm in a proposal.

“Are you suggesting we share our first orange of the harvest?” He gently turned the fruit in his hand, inspecting the dip where the gentle curve of a leather peel met the wooden stem. The time spent considering what he had asked was closer to a day dream rather than a debate on your actual answer, artificial hesitation induced by an overactive imagination. After a few moments your distraction was cut short by the feel of firm, pitted rind being pressed into your palm. “We must eat it together, of course," His expression beamed with a sense of pride as he spoke, eagerly presenting you with the literal fruit of his labor as a treasure to be cherished, shared.

“I’ve always thought oranges are best when split with someone else.” It was hard to resist a smile while agreeing and holding the orange up to the light to study it for yourself. Sitting down in the grass under the tree, there’s a comforting wave of tranquility as you lean back against the textured bark before pushing a fingernail against the rough skin of the fruit and slowly beginning to pull it apart. Primo slowly sits down next to you with a soft sigh as his muscles stretch, your shoulders bumping together sending a rush of electricity through your veins even after all the time you’d spent together.

"You know, you're quite good at peeling these things," he mentions quietly as he studies your movements. "How do you do it so effortlessly?" He asks curiously, raising a brow. You laugh in response, the sound twinkling like wind chimes in the light breeze as you held out a slice of the orange to Primo.

“Lots of practice. Oranges are my favorite.”

"Orange peeling is a rather unique skill to practice," The grin that shines on his face could easily beat out the brilliance of the sun when he reaches out to take the section of fruit.

“You can peel it so easily and swiftly," He continues with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“You always make the simplest of things most interesting. Thank you for offering your skills to me, mia arancia." His attempts to butter you up make you laugh, scooting closer to him in order to duck under his arm despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air.

"We'll have to share one each day, sì?" He suggests while biting into the orange slice, the sweet juice dribbling on his chin and smearing along the black lines of his face paint that was already distorted by the sweat of the day.

“I would like that very much. It’ll remind you to take a break, too.” You tease Primo playfully. Despite being retired, he still insists upon spending long days tending to his plants, rare to take a rest without being prompted. The thought of meeting every day for something so small simmered in your mind, the tender domesticity of being near one another for no real reason other than to exist. Together.

“Did you know there’s a lot of poetry about sharing oranges with your loved ones?” You ask suddenly as you pop a slice of the juicy fruit into your mouth and continue to peel the opposite side.

"I didn't know that," he admits. "About the poetry." He pauses for a moment. "What does it say?" He asks quietly while he lays his head atop yours, content to watch your fingers move swiftly to continue separating the sections.

“It’s all symbolic of sharing your life and love in a gentle way. A simple act of service can carry great meaning, you see?”

Pure contentment bubbles in your chest as you feel Papa shift closer to you and the feather light flutter of his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder is enough to make you wonder if you have ever truly felt this peaceful before. You hold up another piece of the fruit close to his face in offering as you explain further.

“To love someone enough to cherish the mundane. I’ll read you some.”

And so you sat together until long after the horizon imitated the color of the fruit passed between between your hands, repeating lines of prose while sharing an orange or three with the sweet nectar sticky between your fingers and lips.

“[..] They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I'm glad I exist.”

-The Orange, Wendy Cope, 1992

Literally nobody asked for this but….

Headcanons about the ministry, ghouls, and the papas!

-Every ghoul has its own bedroom based off of their element. For example rain, he has an ocean themed bedroom with lots of sea creature decorations.

-The ministry is basically a home to all the papas and ghouls. It has a big kitchen, a dining hall, lots of practice rooms, a big chapel, an arguably bigger library, an absolutely massive garden, a common room/living room, a small en-suite rec center, and honestly so much more.

-The former papas actually roam as ghosts there! You can usually find Terzo in the common room, Secondo in the rec center, and primo in the gardens.

-All the ghouls are in packs that correspond to whatever era they were in during their time on stage. For example, the era iv ghoul pack would consist of Swiss, Rain, Aether, Dewdrop, Mountain, Phantom, Cumulus, Cirrus, Sunshine, And Aurora.

-Everyone is in charge of making dinner. There’s a sign up list in the kitchen for the next time you’re supposed to make dinner, and if you don’t make it you’re put to shame for the next week.

-Newer Water ghouls take swimming lessons in the rec center. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

-Every other weekend, the clergy hosts a bonfire, and you best BELIEVE everyone is there.

-The ghoulettes and sisters of sin do a lot of the shopping for everyone. Not because anyone told them to, they just like getting dolled up and going to town to get things, maybe even flirting with some unsuspecting humans.

-Weekly movie nights are a MUST. Everyone gets their stuffed animals, blankets, and pjs to gather in the living room every Wednesday night to watch a film or two.

-Ghouls are very affectionate with their papas. For example, picture an unsuspecting Copia walking into his office to find a lunch on his desk made specially for him with a note that reads “Wanted you to taste the new recipe, let me know if it’s any good or not! -Mountain”.

-Every ghoul pack has their own sleeping quarters. Even if they’re just separated by hallways, the ghouls know where they’re supposed to be.

-Every ghoul can manipulate the weather to its liking. For example, an air ghoul might tune down the wind if one of their pack members complains about it.

I think that’s about it for now, let me know if you’re interested in more of my headcanons, thanks!