#primo I tell you

[age-of-moonknight]

“Under the Same Moon,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #6.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Devmalya Pramanik; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[preqvelle]

New old pics of Primo courtesy of rise above records

[oranpo]

Happy Halloween, Cardinal...

👻🎃🎃🎃👻

Following my personal tradition of posting Ghost fanart on Halloween, I decided to draw the Cardinal scared out of his mind as the memories of the Papas haunt him. And there could be no better time to pay him a visit than Hallows' eve...🎃

[gravehags]

curator reader seeing a photo of primo in his middle aged, long haired prime: YOOOOOOOOO

copia: amore stop

primo: no let her speak please :)

[ficandkaboodle]

Concept: Copia telling Aether about how his oldest brother, Primo, once punched a panda, and it plays out like when MeatCanyon told Wendigoon about his Grandpa Ernest and Roger the Hunting Dog

[countfagula]

Emeritus Brothers Headcannon fall edition as promised!

Primo enjoys the changing of the leaves though it makes him sad that winters coming but he takes it as opportunity to teach younger siblings of sin about the cycle of life and death. Primo also enjoys baking and will make traditional Italian sweets for everyoone but especially his brothers.

Secondo throws the best Halloween parties there typically small events with a few chosen siblings and ghouls but their absolutely unforgettable plus he’s a sucker for a horror movie so the brothers have a lot of movie nights during that time. His favorite is Texas Chainsaw Massacre and I will not be taking arguments on it.

Terzo is absolutely elated when it hits October first because he loves the macabre and spooky! He absolutely is someone who starts planning their costume in august and boy are his impressive! He loves either doing couples costumes with his partners or group costumes with his brothers! I also headcannon that his birthday is on Halloween so he’s a huge birthday month guy.

Copia loves fall because it gets cooler and he’s a lot more relaxed with his causal wear it’s not odd to find him in his office in a hoodie and sweats doing paper work that’s most certainly overdo at this point. He’s a sucker for Pumpkin spice lattes fight me on it. He also loves being able to gather his brothers up to help plan the Samhain/Halloween festival the ministry holds each year.

[gogodollie]

Alright, what's your opinion about Nihil's relationship with the rest of his kid's mother(s)? And what role did Sister have in their lives growing up?

First off I’m so sorry for taking so long to answer this😭 I had half of it written down but had to think harder about it and completely forgot. I’m starting this off by saying all of my thoughts are based off of my own aus/speculation. Anyways with that being said…

Nihil’s relationship with baby mamas 1-3 is non-existent at best. In RHRN Nihil says that he’s almost 80 so I place him as being born in ‘44 which MEANS that he was a young father (25 yrs old in KTGG and already had 3 children). Like. Very young. In my hcs I think that Primo’s mother was a high school sweetheart of Nihil’s, I’d speculate in their junior/senior year. It was probably just dumb love and not really any substance, probably would not have gone anywhere after graduation (at a fault of Nihil’s) but sweet nonetheless. Until the pregnancy obviously because an unmarried teenage girl in the 60s??? I think she carried Primo to term (pressured from family) but after giving birth, essentially dropped off the face of the Earth and left baby Primo with a 17 year old Nihil. It was less so a purposeful act of abandonment and more like desperate parents pushing for their daughter to live an actual life that didn’t include being ostracized. Sucks for Primo and single teen dad Nihil but for Primo’s mom this is somewhat of a win! She feels guilt from time to time and thinks about what her baby is up to but overall? She’s content with the life she made for herself after it all and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

BABY MAMA TWO🗣️ Also dgaf about her baby, so sorry Secondo. I do think the case with Secondo’s mother is a lot more tragic than any of the other mothers because she was just in the worst position prior to getting pregnant and things really only got worse from there. She was probably just some girl who met Nihil at a bar by chance and these two were just absolutely never meant to come across each other. At this point I think on both ends there’s a good deal with substance reliance brewing because of the constant partying and drugs which is putting a strain on the relationship (which is more like a dependency really) and the pregnancy is kind of the last straw. She doesn’t want a baby at all, has no interest in a life with children or settling and isn’t ready for any of that- isn’t even sure if she’d want that with Nihil of all people anyways. I think Nihil pushed for her to carry out the pregnancy thinking that it might save the relationship or do something with the mess they had because he’s stupid and naive and surely another baby wouldn’t hurt, right? So she does in fact give birth to Secondo, who’s got a good deal of respiratory issues at birth and only pushes her away from the idea of caring from him more. She doesn’t even stick around long enough to heal up completely, gone within a few days of the birth with some friend before Secondo makes it out of the NICU. It takes her some time to manage the postpartum depression and everything else she has in her plate but I do think after a good while she does sober up and learns to cope with everything that had happened. At the end of the day, it’s all like a bad dream to her and the memories are all fuzzy. Nihil attempts to find her for a while after Secondo is born but nothing ever turns up. She’s off in the next state over and doesn’t ever think about the baby she had, definitely doesn’t wish things

Baby mama: TRES. Okay so technically we only know about this one because Tobias wanted to include his mommy and if he was asked in an interview today he would completely forget what he said about this matter years ago. SO. I think baby mama #3 was an aspiring actress or model- I tend to imagine her being similar to Olga Baclanova, at least for a face claim. Anyways whatever, Nihil and baby mama 3 are both very ambitious at this point and they genuinely seem compatible. Between working dead end jobs and trying to make something of themselves, they’re actually pretty affectionate and things are looking up (at least compared to the last two). They’re well off for the time being but then SURPRISE. The man that doesn’t know what a condom is had helped create yet another unplanned baby. Who would’ve guessed. It’s exciting at first but in the way that it feels like playing house- they’ll have their flat, their baby, and their dream careers! But give or take a few months and she quickly realizes what a damper this is going to put on everything she had planned for herself and the fantasy in her head is falling apart. She’s falling out of love, she’s realizing that her life will need to change drastically to fit a child in it, and she knows that nothing can be the same. The difference between baby mamas 1-2 and baby mama 3 is that she is at a place in life where she is willing to take on motherhood and actually does want to be a mother. Sure, she didn’t expect it to come so soon but she does love and want Terzo. She waits until a while after Terzo is born to break up with Nihil, didn’t want to push him away during the pregnancy out of fear that he would completely deny Terzo a spot in his life. The split is fairly clean and it ends up as a split custody sort of arrangement which really depends on what the parents have going on as opposed to a healthy routine for Terzo. Nihil and baby mama #3 still get along fairly well and kept in contact up until Terzo was around 13 when they figured he could make the arrangements himself (where he tends to choose his mother over Nihil). There’s no bad blood but it’s sort of like a lingering sadness and “what if”s though there’s no real desire for that ending- they’re both happy with where they’ve ended up in life and got to live out their dreams, even if just for a short while. Side note, Terzo’s mother gave up the acting gig after birth and settled for modeling which later turned to visual arts when she eventually couldn’t keep up with that lifestyle.

I’ve got to keep it real with you here, I don’t think Sister Imperator ever cared to have any sort of relationship with Nihil’s children and didn’t ever attempt to take up any sort of “step-mom” role in their lives. Sister doesn’t come across as someone deeply interested in caring for homemaking or having children or anything of the like. Given the very current politics surrounding women’s rights and the feminist movement at the time combined with growing up in the satanic church, it just doesn’t seem like something that would ever call to her. She sees Nihil’s children as tools for the clergy in the kindest way she possibly could, I guess? Sister knows the basics of childcare and development and wants their needs to be met- so they’re well enough to later take on their clergy duties. I don’t even think she would do all that well with reprimanding them which is something she excels in usually (verbally abusing people is one of her favorite pastimes). She expects Nihil to be a father to them and their sole caregiver but also expects a great deal of Nihil’s time as a partner. Sister is a 25 year old, unmarried, and childless woman so of course she’s going to want to live her life to the fullest and free of distractions. She may feel pity towards Primo and Secondo at times because she sees her own childhood in their experiences (absent mother, semi-neglectful/absent father) as opposed to Terzo (present/loving mother and a father in his life). It’s not enough to make her motherly towards them but it’s something that they feel and she figures that’s enough.

TLDR: Everyone involved was just too young and stupid and selfish to gaf and did not have the generosity required to bring a child (or several) into their lives.

[kabra-malvada]

*me quiero morir plays on the background*

I am- speechless? shocked? IDK

Weyyyyyyy lo vi y quedé :0 La neta ya ni sé que decir alv wow, nomás, WOW. No me enojo o me ofendo fácilmente, pero chingada madre se esforzaron y lo lograron, felicidades! me dejaron en shook

Me va a dar algo lmao, no sé ni por donde empezar. La canción culerísima, el estilo de arte que se ve no muy refinado, el diseño de personajes poco memorable, los comentarios de la actriz de voz, fucking earthquake heights (look up the 2017 earthquake in México on YT), las personas que dicen que no los podemos criticar por que "lo hacen por representación" Y podría seguirle y seguirle :/ Aclaración mi pedo más que nada es que creo que no solo se notan insensibles (por los estereotipos y así) sino que activamente se rehúsan a escuchar lo que los demás tienen que decir. Sí hay personas latinas que no encuentran problema con esto pero los que sí han estado siendo catalogados de "ofendidos" nomás por que no quieren escuchar o entender lo que disgusta de este proyecto.

Coming from an actual Mexican here: this is rly weird and uncomfortable, I'm sitting here like :/ Idk man, I'm just gonna sit in the corner and pretend this doesn't exist.

Y arda al que le arda se dice "OIGAN" no "OYE" por que es en plural. "Grammar nazi" mis huevos. Son una corporación de miles de millones de dólares como para no tomarse la molestia de averiguar si está bien escrito spm

[lightbluuestars]

if Peemo got to be your boyfriend husband for the week, how would you spend it?

A WEEK?!! AN ENTIRE WEEK?!! oh my god i'd simply pass away (of love and happiness)

how should i put this, hm? just a day with this man would be enough!! (until it ends, then i'm empty for the rest of my life)

seven whole days of love and affection and appreciation for one another, oh my god

sunday would be particularly cozy, spending the day inside and just lovin on each other. hugs, kisses, cuddles, fueling each other for the week ahead. he'd have a ghoul tend to his plants, just for that day. preferably an earth ghoul, please.

monday would be kind of busy, having duties to attend to around the abbey and whatnot. inviting me out to his gardens and greeting me with an affectionate hug along with a sweet kiss. he'd show me around his gardens, pointing out specific plants and flowers he liked or thought i would like. the day ends with dinner and reading together in bed. i'd show him the pictures in my books, fascinated. (wwii books, i like them a lot, very interesting)

tuesday would come, and every morning is almost the same. waking up together, showering (depends on what mood we're in, together or alone), dressing, and leaving each other once again to preform our duties in the abbey. occasionally, i'd help him with his paints, but i don't often because i joke i don't trust myself with that kind of job. i simply cannot focus enough for that. this time, i invite him to have lunch with me, and we talk about what we had done earlier in the day, and what we will do. depending on our moods, we might spend the night in bed together pleasing one another, or we might stay outside and look at the stars. he likes to watch the stars, and points out constellations in the sky for me to look at.

wednesday arrives, and the morning is a free one. we shower together, and i attempt to apply his paints but fail miserably and end up a heap of laughter on the floor. he fixes his paints, taps my nose, and then we have breakfast. he brews some of his own tea, and i happily join him in sitting outside and enjoy the morning sun. we spend most of the morning outside, and he watches as i fashion flower crowns out of the clovers in the grass. (with his permission, of course.) i place one on his head, and one on mine. he smiles, and admires the crown i had made for him. the day ends with a nice bath (together, obviously) and doing our own thing before bed. he might finish up some paperwork, and i might end up drawing. a good day.

thursday is here, and he is gone when i wake up. turns out, he was needed somewhere, and left me alone. (sad, i know) i continue on with the day, barely even seeing him. i end up coming back and jumping his bones, and the entire night is spent together, making up for the lost time from the day.

friday, finally, and he's stuck in bed with a bad back. courtesy of last night's events. i take the day off, reassure him that his garden will be fine, because i asked a trusted earth ghoul to care for the garden. i care for him the whole day, brewing him tea and massaging his back. i draw a bath for him, with epsom salts, and leave him be for a while. after he's back in bed, i give him some painkillers and kiss his forehead, telling him to get some sleep. i stay up for a while longer, before retreating to bed and falling asleep next to him.

on saturday, his back is better and he can get back outside again. this time, he goes without the paints. it's a saturday, he can relax. he takes his time out in the garden, and will happily accept my help once i'm out there with him. i had brought him some tea and scones, and we enjoyed the morning together. the afternoon was spent in near silence, just existing together. the occasional turn of a page or the flutter of the curtains in the wind disrupted the silence, but it was well welcomed. we were happy together. the day ends curled around each other in bed, whispering words of affection until we drift off to sleep.

[queenharumiura]

A flower safe to look at, but not to touch. Many would dare regardless, but are you one of them?

This is a piece I commissioned for. Do not steal, do not edit, do not use, and do not repost. I was given permission to post this onto my blog.

Fiore Rossi is my OC for the Primo Generation Vongola

Artist is KINNYno from dA

[madraleen]

anyway, i’m having a blast seeing all the wonderful venti birthday art that people are making. happy birthday, lil love <3

[sisterruthisconcerned]

I’m a firm believer that all of the papas drink blood. And I mean DRINK IT. It’s the most important meal of the day Gary’s way, kinda way ok.

[laindependencialuna1899]

If you have Layla in Genshin, technically you have a Zhongli and Freminet wrapped in one. Build her

[braziliannamelessghoul]

Ghost was able to bring me one damn obsession that I never thought I'd have due to religious trauma: ecclesiastical fashion.

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

c’mon man if Paimon is gonna say something that’s supposed to start you on a quest at least let the quest actually start as soon as she talks I can’t be expected to remember everything Paimon ever said to me outside of a cave

[revelisms]

Copia grows up in the shadow of so much music, so much magic, so much life.

Copia, little blue-eyed ruddy-haired Copia, in shoes too big and coat too baggy and breathing in the cool, damp air of the gardens. Led by a gentle hand, bony hand: cold as death, but loving. Much as it can be, in its jadedness.

"You see these ones, here?" their eldest says, the words rasped and ashen, like he's spent a lifetime drinking down the soil his hands have tilled. "They are beautiful, no?"

Copia stares hard at those white flowers, his little fingers pinched at his palm.

They are beautiful.

Tall and beautiful and strange, like the ghoulish creature looming above him, with eyes pale as moonstone; one who is more a mother than a brother, is a beacon, a beam of light in this dark place he fears ever losing.

"You'll have to try planting some, one day," Primo continues. "Won't get a green thumb otherwise, eh?"

Copia will never get a green thumb. But he'll try.

And he'll be older. Only a little—enough to grow into gangly legs, a nose too big for his sullen face, freckles smattered across his cheeks and hair unruly. Older, but not as old as the hand burning as coals, rough as rock, squeezing slow at his shoulder.

"Not like that," his brother gristles, patient as his nonexistent patience can manage. His fingers flick off him, point sharply at the lane stretched ahead. "Eyes on the road, little rat. Now—easy. Second gear, you remember?"

Copia, white knuckled on the steering wheel, huffs. "Yes, yes, I know—"

Secondo spits a breath through his teeth. "I was driving the old bastard's Ferrari, at your age," he grouses, more to himself. "Alright. Easy, now—you've got it—Hell beneath, the clutch—"

"Sorry, sorry—"

Copia will never be a good driver. Puttering away in his go-kart of a Fiat, dingy and denim blue, that they'll tease him endlessly for. But he'll try.

And Copia will be older, still. Not quite a man, not quite a boy, not quite an Emeritus—not quite anything but a rat listening in on everything, sticking his ear where it never belongs.

(Where has he ever belonged?)

It winds him towards misplaced conversations and snarking gossip, plucked guitar strings and crashing drums—and often, so often, to the old music room on the second floor. The one with the chipped black piano Terzo favors.

Terzo, with his midnight clothes and midnight hair and midnight nails, his hand-poured coffees black as tar, books upon books of stained lyrics and notes. Terzo, hazed with the morning's gloom: paintless and beautiful and bone-tired, always, since his oath-taking.

And Copia envies him. Resents a brother who can swoon men and women and demons alike with nothing more than a crook of his finger. Who needs only to tuck the half-tamed waves of his hair behind his ears and flash a smile to look impeccable.

Whose fingers melt across the keys like a lover. A symphony of emotion that is powerful, hateful, all-encompassing.

He dances between two set of melodies: two songs at war with each other. Eventually, they will become ballads of their own. One, Copia will find the ink-scrawled pages for, years after his brother's soul has been thrown back through the Gate, and claim.

Another triplet of feather-light notes, climbing a dissonant ladder. His voice soft from his chest, haunting in its echoing, deep and light at once.

"I can feel the thunder that's breaking..."

A pause. His nose crinkling. A waterfall, slow-stroked fingers and thumb, repeated like a skipping record.

"With flesh, and blood, and bones, I...mnh...Did no one hear the distant...no, no, no—"

And he'll smack out ripples of classical adagios, crescendos: broken, jazz-chorded flails: snarling in frustration, before slumping. Slowly, sighing, tracing back to those lovely notes. An effortless bleeding of his soul over the keys, over and over and over again.

Copia will never be a good pianist. Saints, never like him. But he'll try.

He'll try—in his unevenly-spaced flowerbeds; in his father's battered, beat-up cruiser; in the white-glossed grand piano he has them drag up on stage, just to pluck out a sea of chords that are only partly his own.

That is home, for him. Where he belongs.

Glittering in those suits, grinning in the sweat of it all, flipping microphones with sightless ease and dancing circles over those checkerboard floors, as though they were meant for only him.

And, in a way, he supposes, they always were.

Metal squeezed in his palm. Armor draped off his shoulders. The paints of the dead claiming him, above all else.

His people. His stage.

His music, his magic, his life.

For all of them, in their own ways, they always were.

copia / stages