Primo - Blog Posts

Working Papas (Mall AU Headcanons)

AU where the emeritus brothers are not papas. Instead, they work in a mall in separate stores. Secondo was originally gonna be a mall cop but I thought it’d be funnier if he worked at a Claire’s.

Primo works at a Bath & Bodywork’s.

He’s a pro at being able to tell what kinds of products you’d like or need just by vibes only.

Can immediately distinguish scents from each other, can tell what a scent is just with one whiff.

He demonstrates a lotion for you, and when your hands touch it’s like it’s meant to be. His hand feels so right in yours.

You swing by often after that, and he always seems to have a new sample for you to try each time— a gift, he says.

When no one is looking he’ll oh so gently hold your hand and press a soft kiss to the back of it.

Secondo works at a Claire’s.

He’s the manager and he hates it.

God to honest tried to get himself fired but only ended up being promoted— Terzo makes fun of him for it all the time and it drives him nuts.

He has a soft spot for children, but unfortunately the mothers that shop there are horrendous.

Spends all his breaks smoking in the back and taking shots from a water bottle of straight vodka.

Okay, maybe the job isn’t so bad— because he meets you. You just like to look at the cute hair accessories and earrings, you didn’t expect for a huge scary Italian man to ask you if you needed assistance.

He actually recommends a few items and you beam when he shows you one that you absolutely adore.

Fuck, you’re adorable when you smile. Yeah, okay. Maybe the job isn’t too bad.

Terzo works at a Sephora or Ulta.

Everyone’s favorite makeup artist; can sell almost any product with enough sweet talk and flirting.

He’s a popular amongst customers and there’s almost always a line for his consultation.

There’s always at least one co-worker who has a crush on him— and you are no exception.

You intrigue him with your wit and humor and how much you tease him back.

The two of you end up making out in front of the Claire’s during break much to Secondo’s disgust.

Yes, you get lots of good deals on makeup and products from him.

Copia works at one of those weeby anime/k-pop stores.

One of those people who have only seen or heard of Naruto and One Piece. If you ask him what k-pop band he likes, he’s only heard of BTS.

Get’s super addicted to pocky after the first time he tries it— it’s very accessible to him because it’s always in stock. He buys a pack or two before going home after each shift. His brothers joke that it’s like a bad smoking habit.

You can always find him re-arranging the stuffed animals, he likes to rotate them so they get turns to sit together and chat. He tells you this when you ask one day and you find it adorable and charming. He looks a little embarrassed but you tell him it’s cute and he gets flustered.

You think it would be funny so you when you confess to Copia, you tell him you have the doki-dokis and he just looks at you all confused and makes Copia Noises as he tries to decipher your meaning. In the end you sigh out: “it means I like you, you idiot.”

He kisses you and Sakura Kiss from Ouran High School Host Club starts playing and you make eye contact with one of his co-workers who ‘eeps’ and ducks behind the counter. “KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE” begins to blast.

Family gathering y’all

Uno Night

Primo x teen, sleepy reader (Platonic)

Primo finds you asleep, listening to his album.

/ / /

yeah. no explanation. it's 2 am and zoo has sleepy bitch disease (again)

. . .

"Where's the kid?"

A silence fell over the room. Copia looked to his brothers. "Haven't you seen y/n? Surely they're running around here somewhere."

"You know teenagers," spoke Secondo. "You know, when I was their age-"

"We know, fratello. Let's hope they're not following in your footsteps," Terzo interrupts. "They don't cause trouble, generally. Unless they're with the ghouls; then we should have need for concern."

"Oh, lord below, I'm sure they are fine. They're nearly an adult you know. But if you are that concerned, Copia, I will go look for them. The three of you can continue without me."

"Thank you, fratello. I do appreciate it. It is not like them to miss Uno night."

Primo rolled his eyes before walking out the door.

His footsteps echoed loudly throughout the empty hall. There was not a soul in sight; no ghouls, siblings, or even Sister Imperator. He wondered what everyone could be up to; it was most likely that everyone had their own things going on. He imagined siblings in their own private quarters, partaking in their own individual activities. A bit of light reading, perhaps; or watching TV, drawing, writing, working, sleeping.

He wondered what you could be up to. It was possible you were with the ghouls; or maybe you were in your own bedroom, having forgotten about tonight's game. Maybe you were in the kitchen, making a late night snack. Maybe you had elected to spend the night with another sibling. No matter what you were doing, he was determined to discover your whereabouts. He just hoped it wasn't mischievous or dangerous.

As he approached your bedroom, he listened for any signs of life. He heard none, even after he knocked on your door. Opening the door, he discovered your still-made bed; he supposed you hadn't been in there yet for the night. He continued to ponder where you could be.

Next he tried the kitchen. Though he discovered a small group of ghouls that were absolutely up to no good, he didn't find you. He rolled his eyes as Aether swallowed a banana whole with the peel, turning to leave.

"Have you checked the commons?" Called Swiss.

"No, I have not. Is that where they are?"

"They were earlier. 'Dunno if they still are though," Aether manages with a mouthful of banana.

"Ah, well- thank you. I will stop by." He starts walking out the door once more. "Please stop eating the bananas whole!" He calls.

As he heads towards the common room, he wonders what you could be doing there. Sometimes the ghoulettes host game nights, which may explain the halls' emptiness.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, he is met with an empty common room. A fire is roaring in the fireplace, the only defense against the bitter chill that plagues the Ministry at this time of year.

He walks to the center of the room, making his way around the giant couch. Once he does, he spots you.

You're fast asleep, tangled up in a thin green blanket within the soft confines of the couch. You're curled up slightly, chest rising and falling with steady rhythms. He spots your phone, clutched tightly in hand, a pair of earbuds connected and in your ears.

With a sigh, he steps closer to your figure. He carefully removes the earbuds and phone from your grasp, turning it on to pause whatever you had drifted off listening to. He smiles, chuckling to himself when he sees.

You had fallen asleep to Opus Eponymous.

His album.

He leans down to your height. Brushing the hair out of your face, he decides to rouse you.

You stir, a deep whine escaping your lips as you crack your eyelids open. "...Primo?"

"Ah, good evening," he greets, "are you ready for bed, dolce?"

"What?" Your voice is rough with sleep, confusion on your face.

He chuckles. "Let's get you to bed." He reaches out to pull the blanket off of you; you whine, burying your face in your arms. "Come on now, don't be difficult. Bedtime, let's go." You don't move, breaths steadying once more. He sighs, using his hands to shake you gently. "Bambino, wake up. Bedtime."

Finally, you awaken. You open your eyes fully, brows knitting together in confusion as you use your arms to lift yourself slightly. You suck in a deep breath, unable to form words quite yet.

"Hello sleeping beauty," he teases, "are you ready for bed?"

You rub your eyes, pushing yourself to sit up on the couch. The remaining part of the blanket falls from your form, ending into a pile around you. You sleepily nod.

He helps you stand, smiling at the way you press yourself against his side for warmth. He picks up the blanket and wraps it around your shoulders, then returns your cell phone.

"My dear, I saw what you were listening to. How on Earth did you fall asleep to my album? It is not, eh... very soothing."

"Missed you," you mumble, still too drowsy to think.

"'Missed me?' I am right here."

"Busy."

"Ah, well. Would you miss me a little less if I took you to bed?"

"Mhm."

"Very well. But first we must meet with my brothers. They are very worried about you."

"Huh? Why?"

"It is Uno night. Have you forgotten?"

"Aw... I wanna play Uno..."

"Nope. Bedtime."

"Please?"

"No."

"Can I at least watch for a bit?"

He sighs. "Fine. You may watch one round, but then it is off to bed."

. . .

The others cheered when you entered the room.

"Child, we thought you no longer loved us," Terzo yells dramatically.

"Where were you?" Questions Secondo.

"You, eh... look drowsy," Copia chimes in.

"Napping in the den," Primo says, taking a seat at the table. "They wanted to say hi before going to bed. Isn't that right, y/n?"

You nod. "I wanna watch for a bit though." You sit on the couch a few feet away from the table.

"Just watching?" Terzo whines. "Come on, the games are always more interesting when you join!"

Primo shoots him a glare. "No. They're going to bed after this round. Now who's shuffling the cards?"

You quickly lose focus once the game starts. They're oddly quiet; there's no yelling, no throwing of cards. Instead they talk quietly, calmly explaining their complete and utter rage when being handed a thrice-stacked draw four card. You're still sleepy, so you decide to lie down on the couch for a moment. Only for a moment; after all, the game would be ending soon, and Primo would be putting you to bed.

You curl up, using one of the couch pillows to rest your head on. You toss the blanket over your legs, watching the brothers play with half-lidded eyes. Over time, those eyes begin to close; before long, you're fast asleep.

. . .

Primo sighs. "I knew I should have taken them to bed."

"What?"

"Look."

The four men pause as your sleeping form is noticed.

"Poor thing," Copia mutters, "they must've had a rough day."

"They fell asleep to my album," gloats Primo. "They said they missed me."

"That is such bullshit. They probably had a playlist going and that's the song they were listening to," Terzo tells him.

"I went into their music library to pause the music. They were listening to my album."

The arguing is interrupted when a yawn is heard from your direction. "Whadya talkin' about?" You ask, words slurring from sleep. Your eyes open, and you sit up slightly.

"Don't worry baby, just go back to sleep," Copia says. "We're sorry to wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping," you rub your eyes, "Jus' bored."

"Alright," Primo stands. "That's enough. I should have tucked you in long ago. Come on, time for bed dolcezza."

You whine. "What about the game? Aren't you gonna finish?"

"We already did, long ago," Secondo chuckles. "You've been asleep this whole time."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Alright, enough. Come on, kiddo. Bedtime." Primo hovers over you now, and helps you to your feet. You're wobbly, still sleepy, and press against him. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Ah, don't forget your blanket." He picks it up and hands it to you. "Okay, sleepy-time. Come on."

A chorus of "good night, sleep well!" can be heard from throughout the room. Unable to form a coherent thought, all you can think of to respond with is a soft-spoken "Night night." The room goes silent.

You hear Terzo giggle, followed by a loud smack, then; "ooow! What the Hell was that for?!"

Copia stands to bid you goodnight. "Pleasant dreams," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. "I would tell you to sleep well, but it already seems that you will." He winks at you. "Good night."

Primo acts as your support as the two of you walk down the hallway. When you yawn for the millionth time, he asks, "Kiddo, did you take something to make you this tired?"

You nod. "I had hives again, so I took three benedryl."

"Ah, now it makes sense."

. . .

"Comfy?" He asks, smirking at the way you're pressed up against him. You're curled up in his bed, half asleep with your head pressed into the crook of his arm. You've only been here a moment, but the drowsiness has already taken over.

"Mhm," you mumble, nuzzling further into him. A few moments later, you're asleep yet again.

"Sorry for keeping you up, kiddo. I would have put you to bed a lot earlier if I'd known." Your only response is light snoring. "Poor thing." He hadn't even been able to keep you awake long enough to make a trip to your bedroom for pajamas; he was thankful you'd dressed yourself in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that day. At least you weren't sleeping in jeans.

It hadn't taken him long to coax you onto the bed. You'd laid down first without him, waiting as he got dressed. When he'd returned a moment later, you were already on the verge of sleep, clutching his pillow and laying atop the covers.

Now he's got you cozied up to him, watching as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Night night, little one."

Exactly.

You draw a lot of soft big brother Primo and for that I'm super grateful but like, do you have any art/ideas for unhinged Primo who wants to punch pandas and invade countries and all that? Just curious 👀

Sorry for the long delay :'] I’m sorry I don’t currently have any doodles or art of unhinged Primo, but that doesn’t mean I’m not plagued by Primo thoughts.

The big disclaimer here is that this is all personal headcannons; I’m the type of Ghost fan that generally wants to follow the cannon, but also, you know, is more than fine with adapting and extrapolating a few things… So, all this is about my Personal Primo conjecture lol

Everything we’ve ever gotten about Primo in cannon paints him as batshit crazy, but somehow fandom morphed him into a much gentle figure. And I honestly enjoy both sides and think he can be both :’]

Like… Primo loves his little brothers, but hates humans. He grows a beautiful garden but anticipates the day it will be destroyed in Armageddon. He makes tea blends with the same precision he would conduct a sacrificial ritual. He curls up in an armchair next to a cozy fireplace with an ancient tomb on demonology in his lap. There is a non-zero amount of dead bodies in his garden, feeding the flowers with their decaying flesh.

And he believes there’s something beautiful about that; the cycle of life and death, the miracle of life and the necessity of death.

Primo hates the government and he hates society; he hates humanity. He believes it to be corrupt and evil – and looks forward to the day that it reaps what it deserves. It also means that he doesn’t have a lot of personal objections to doing ‘evil’ things, himself.

I do not think that makes him a complete monster (because completely chaotic evil characters aren’t that interesting to me). Primo doesn’t go out of his way to be cruel.

Like, Primo has no qualms with sacrificing a goat or lamb on the alter, but wouldn’t kick a puppy. Primo wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man if he deemed it necessary, but he’s always kind to children. He would burn down a government building for fun, but he wouldn’t burn down a family home. He would absolutely have a reporter abducted because the Clergy kept badgering him to do interviews, but would see to it that the reporter had lunch.

Now – the Ghost Project.

Primo had no interest in it. He looked at his father, who he hates, and the flashy, rock n’ roll lifestyle, and quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with it. But he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. He does come around to aspects of it, though. He realizes that music can be a powerful tool to lure people into the Ministry. He realizes that he can influence people with music.

He commits to Ghost; writing songs and performing, singing Satan’s praises. His time as frontman is dedicated to his dark lord. Primo does not want the Ghost Project to be about him – he wants it to be about the message, alone. So, he tries to stay anonymous. He tries to stay separate.

But the people want a rockstar, they want interviews, they want personalization. And the Clergy pressures him to give them that. So, he breaks down and gives them interviews. Primo is old at this point – old and a little bitter. He doesn’t give a shit about the interviews.

So, he gets exceptionally high, sits down, and decides to have some fun with them.

So yeah, sure, he’d hit a panda in the face with a brick, but he wouldn’t do it for free – like, $500 bucks would do it. And sure, hell, he’d be down for some world domination, why not? Sounds like fun. Also, yeah, you know what, his d!ck is 13 inches long, write that down, it’s important. His Ghouls sit there in silent agony while their leader rattles off whatever wild bull he happens to think of off the top of his head, and he’s having a blast watching the interviewer get more and more uncomfortable.

And then his time as frontman is over, and he gladly turns over the Mitre to his little brother and returns to a quiet life of blood sacrifices and quiet gardening.

That is so heart-wrenching. I love it.

You should give it a read, it hurts really good :'0

"Here Comes the Sun" Here's the fic link if you want to experience some Emeritus brothers angst

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!!

I have to explain Ghost lore to my mom and i think i’m doing great

Living Room Loft-Style

this is BEAUTIFUL

Sinners' tango

| Twitter | Instagram | Ao3 | Redbubble |

It wasn't just meant to be a small collection of Papa x Sister of Sin!Reader, but also to have a little interpretation key. So, as usual, I invite you to comment/like to show your support!

I really like the idea that the Ministry of Ghosts is a matriarchal pyramid, where even though Papa seems like the most important figure, Sister Imperator is the one who holds the reins of everything. Furthermore, I like that this isn't seen as a threat to anyone's masculinity within the clergy.

This series had a bit of this in mind. The woman isn't shown to allow more or less everyone to insert/identify themselves, yet her presence is so strong that even without ever seeing her face, you should be able to perceive her as the dominant figure in the composition. Sometimes she simply doesn't bother to look at those who are looking at the images, as if leaving the dirty work to someone else, other times she plays with her men, who allow themselves to be moved docilely.

There's also a certain sensuality, the idea of intimacy between the sister and the pope, and the various popes looking into the camera is like an awareness of their position. It's a submissive, almost devoted but still proud. Except for Copia, but not because he's not devoted to her, but because he, more than anyone, couldn't take his eyes off her.

#codeofthestreets #gangstarr #ripguru #hardtoearn #djpremier #primo #90shiphop #tocatuesdays #shady45

this guy am i right

Papas because i'm rusty

Tip jar

a page FULL of terzos!! 💜✨

also bonus doodle of terzo showing off his Grammy:

My rendition on my dear cardinal Primo for all in these trying times ✨ he needs to redye his roots but no one tell him that

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