Currently Losing My Mind Over This

currently losing my mind over this

In Decibel’s June 2011 Ghost cover story, a Nameless Ghoul and/or Papa himself—somehow, it’s unclear, given that all the band quotes were attributed to “the” Nameless Ghoul, a character described with physical attributes that match Papa’s—pos­ited that “the whole concept of Ghost is irony.”

“I don’t think he said irony—he said ’iron­ing,’” one of the Nameless Ghouls tells Decibel when we finally catch him on his cell at a Nashville titty bar. “He can be difficult to under­stand sometimes. We have to iron our costumes frequently, so that’s probably what he meant. But who’s he to say? I mean, he’s never ironed anything.”

Papa himself offers the final word on the sub­ject via email: “Do I look ironic to you?”

When asked if he’s poking fun at metal audi­ences, Poppy serves up a sharp rejoinder: “I can only speak for myself, but the only thing I am poking are the girls in the front row.”

*step step step*

ive come to give you Rat Power

Soft Primo hours? primo or reader coming home after being away for awhile? maybe sfw and extra fluffy?

When you signed up to be Copia's - Papa's - personal chef on tour, you didn't think you'd get the position.

But then you did.

And you'd had two back-to-back tours under your belt. It was fun - Satan help you, it was fun. You'd gone to places you'd only dreamed. The budget for food and ingredients and supplies was limitless. You'd settled in well with Papa and the Ghouls - falling comfortably into the inner circle.

But you were ready to be home.

The tour bus seemed to creep to a stop as it pulled up in front of the Church. There was a crowd but, they weren't gathered to kiss the cook. Terzo was near the back of the group as you pushed your way through. He gave you a peck on the cheek, "He's in the greenhouse, waiting for you."

"Would he be anywhere else?"

Terzo calls as you walk across the lawn, "Go easy on him!"

You smile, picking up your pace. Primo wasn't excited to let you go for so long but, he had nearly forced you to do it. He had sternly - almost angrily - assured you that he was not going to be a decrepit, old, eldritch terror that kept his lover locked up and hidden from the world, "I won't hold you back," he had said.

And you had went. And you'd made it work.

Terzo had taught Primo how to video chat and Secondo had flown you home twice, when there had been a few extra days of downtime. But it wasn't the same. You missed cooking just for the two of you. You missed the quiet. You missed days with Primo in the greenhouse - happy and humming. You missed the nights, too.

You left your bags at the door - the heat of the greenhouse a shock compared to the chill of the fall air, "Primo?"

"Are you back, my love?" that gravelly voice echoes from the back.

You run, then, twisting through the tropical forest that your lover has created, "Where the hell are you - oh!" you're in his arms in an instant, his face is buried in your neck and he takes a deep, shaking breath, "I missed you," you say, kissing his shoulder, "God, did I miss you."

"Let me see you," Primo holds you at arm's length and smiles, nodding, "You are different. There's a glow about you."

"A glow?"

"Si, here," he kisses your forehead, "And here," he kisses the tip of your nose, "Here and here," he leaves chaste kisses on your cheeks, "And here," his lips finally meet yours and you sigh into him.

"Come on," you smile, taking his hand, "Inside. Now."

"Ah, well - I just got this beautiful little tray of seedlings out to transplant.

He pulls you in the other direction and you can't help but follow and laugh, "It's good to be home."

✨slap his bald head✨

merry fucken christmas heres your

PRESENT

when you solve that one sudoku cell that busts the whole puzzle wide open