Since I Can’t Sleep I’ll Just Share This Adorable Secondo Video I Ran Across On HourlySecondo On

Heads and Stones...

"Upon resisting capture, the Saint poised its head on the outside wall of their church to make an example of their prowess and to ward off spirits from the building"

"-that the ministry demoted and made an example of the previous Papas, both tearing down figures of their own faith to illustrate a point."

Those words gave me a funky feeling in my brain. Can't stop thinking about the fact how Terzo had his head cut off in parallel to the Saint cutting off the gargoyle's head, especially since, as you said, to "illustrate a point." I don't know if that was canon or not, but it's a good headcannon.

I forgot to mention this in my last ask but "would "100% insist upon perching himself in a reading chair while you sleep "just in case." Is he batman? Gargoman? [insert really terrible gargoyle/batman combination name i do not have the current creativity to figure out]-man, dare I say?

I don’t think that making an example of the previous Papas is explicitly said but it’s heavily implied imo especially with some of the promo content that’s rather comparison heavy between Secondo to Terzo and then from Terzo to Cardinal Copia. I actually didn’t even consider the connection of that story to Terzo until I posted it but now I’m DEFINITELY thinking about it.

I’m also pretty bad at mashing names together but I would like to offer Batoyle because it makes me laugh.

The 1994 Gargoyles TV show is atleast 98% of the source of my fixation with them, maybe I could smush one of their names with Secondo… Goliath is the one who reminds me most of him but I don’t think there’s even a chance of a non-gibberish result of that lmaooo

for the Halloween-esque prompts!

something TOOTH-ACHINGLY fluffy with secondo 🎃 out of all the papas he seems to have the most pictures with kids, so I have a headcannon that he loves to be around them & even participate in their mischief every once in a while. Maybe he and reader help the kids at the Abbey with apple picking? Or help them put on their costumes/face paint/wigs for Halloween? have fun with it!

this hurt my teeth writing it! some suggestive language…

Secondo is so focused, moving the brush with such precision as he applies the facepaint. His brows are furrowed, lip pressed into a thin line, squinting to make sure he gets the pattern just right. He sits back in his chair and looks over his work, tilting his head while a hand rests on his chin as his eyes follow the delicate lines. You watch him from the other room and find yourself with a dreamy smile playing on your lips.

“You are all done, Giacomo.” Papa grumbles and sets down his brush then gestures towards a nearby mirror. The child happily turns to the mirror, looking cheek to cheek and smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, I look just like you!” Giacomo exclaims, turning back to look at Secondo, his eyes shining brightly.

“Si, si. Now, go get your costume on. Mass is soon.” His voice is the same as how he would speak to adults, stern and deep, but children seem to be unphased by the threatening nature of it. You like to think it’s because he speaks to them like actual people.

“Grazie, grazie, Papa!” Giacomo chirps before scrambling out of the room. You come up behind Secondo as he starts organizing his brushes, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives a content sigh, relaxing against your touch.

“How many children are going as Papa Emeritus the Second?” You purr in his ear.

“Six.” Secondo answers then pulls himself to his feet, slipping from your grasp with a sly grin. “Helped pochi cardinali too.” He smoothes out his robes as his eyes flicker over your body. “This is your costume?”

“What, is it not up to your standards?” You frown and fold your arms over your chest. Admittedly, you didn’t try very hard, opting to wear all black (which isn’t too different from your daily outfits) and a witch’s hat.

“You won’t win the costume contest.”

“The costume contest is for kids.” Silence hangs in the air for just a moment until you cannot hold back giggles any longer. You love when he’s playful like this and you can tell it’s because it’s his favorite time of year.

“Halloween Mass is extremely sacred, amore.” Secondo teases as he starts to stalk closer to you. “We have to appease the spirits.”

“Well, maybe you should paint my face, then.”

“We don’t have enough time for that.” His voice sounds buttery smooth as he towers over you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do you have the unholy offering?” You hold up the bag of candy you put together and he takes it, rifling through it with a gloved hand. “Hmm… you’ve put together a good selection.” He holds the bag firmly in his hand and reaches out to you with his free one. “Shall we go celebrate the undead?”

The chapel is decorated top to bottom with black and orange streamers, bat decals, broomsticks and more. You work to organize the babbling, excited children into a single file line. Secondo looms in front of the children, back to looking stoic and authoritative, but you know it’s just an act for his audience.

The children of the abbey go up one by one, uttering the sacred words of the unholy spirit (“trick or treat”) to receive their offering from Papa. You are Papa’s helper and you make sure each child has their own time to be with him, though there are some times you get distracted by the sweetness of it all. He bows down to each child, close enough so that he can hear them, and asks them how they are honoring the dead this year.

The truth is, Papa doesn’t have to do any of this. It’s not his responsibility to ensure the children of the abbey have fun Halloween, but it warms your heart to see him here, playing along and enjoying himself. It’s Giacomo’s turn and you can’t help but smile ear to ear at his incredibly accurate Secondo costume.

“Ah, Papa.” Secondo bows his head to him. “I should be asking you for your blessing.” He offers a small smirk as he gives Giacomo a few pieces of candy, and one extra — for good luck. His eyes fall to you watching him and you’re unable to stop yourself from swooning.

Maybe you’ll let him paint your face later.

The Count

PART ONE: THE DARE (ao3 link)

vampireCopia x Reader

tags & warnings: NSFW, MDNI, horror themes, vampire violence, blood, (eventual) smut. seriously, part one is as tame as it will be.

special thanks to @ramblingoak for the constant support and cheerleading of the vampire man. 💖

A dark and stormy night. What a bullshit cliché to befall a Satanic abbey that took up residence in an old gothic castle. But there it was, lightning and thunder swirling around the building with a wind that howled a low, unholy sound. It would have been fine if the storm hadn’t knocked the power out, but now without the flashlights, you and the others couldn’t see more than a few inches from your face.

Boredom had spread through the abbey like plague rats almost immediately after you arrived, biting at everyone until they were all infected enough to sneak out. The others said it would be fine, that they did this all the time, and if you just stuck with them you wouldn’t get into any trouble.

That probably would have been true if Sister Debra hadn’t suggested Truth or Dare.

Tired of hearing the same old ghost stories about the Count of the Castle, Debra took it upon herself to lead the others through her dull version of the game. The usual things came up quickly and after a half hour no one was left un-kissed and several of the Sisters admitted to having crushes on the same hot priest. You held your flashlight between your teeth as you picked at your cuticles, uninterested in who was more worthy to bed the unholy man.

“I’ve got one,” Sister Debra shouted over the others, her lips curling into a devilish smile. “For the new girl.”

You’d only been at the abbey a few short weeks, but it was long enough for Sister Debra to decide you were a threat. She had clawed her way to the top of the proverbial pyramid and for whatever reason, she’d laced every word she’d thrown at you with venom. It was a useless, one-sided power struggle that you had no intention of engaging in, but she had been pushing your buttons all evening.

“What is it now, Debra?” you asked with a sigh.

“I dare you to check out a book from the library—”

“Seriously?”

“—in the East Wing.” Her statement was punctuated by a well-timed crack of thunder.

The Sisters immediately stopped their chatter. Behind you, someone dropped their flashlight and let it roll heavily across the old wooden floor. The girls looked back and forth between you and Debra, waiting to see who would strike first. Rules were rules, but as far as you were concerned Debra could fuck off.

“Alright Debra,” you agreed as you slid off your perch. “Game on.”

“Wait, Sister—”

“She said she’d do it,” Debra snapped harshly. “So let her do it.”

And that was how you ended up on the second floor of the forbidden East Wing. Fucking Debra.

The first floor hadn’t revealed much, mostly old furniture still wearing covers to protect from the fibers from detritus and natural light, and a handful of nude statues that were suspiciously free from dust. There were paintings too, impressionist landscapes and oil portraits of the same man, all recently cleaned. If this wing was forbidden, you wondered who would be brave enough to accept the position of shining, you squinted hard in the darkness, Count Copia’s things.

Legend was, Count Copia was the one who had converted the other side of the castle to an abbey to prove his devotion to the church. No one could say when or why this had really happened and the few times you’d tried to ask, you’d been shut down quickly. But the Sisters were quick to share their stories behind the clergy’s back. You heard several tales about the Count, most notably that the Count was once a holy man, a story that was often whispered in the dark while the Sister were supposed to be sleeping. If he was, you’d never seen his devotion on display during mass.

It's not like he would’ve been hard to spot.

There was other less friendly talk about Sisters who had misbehaved or ventured too close to the East Wing and vanished without a trace. A whole host of ghost stories meant to keep you obedient. If a Sister happened to be shuffled around to another convent? Well, that was just the cover up. If a Sister fell ill or failed to return from town? Another victim of the Count.

Sometimes it happened too quickly, and the speculation overruled the facts. Had she seen the Count? Did he make her disappear? It was the hot gossip when you’d arrived. Whoever had moved on from the castle and made room for you was surely as good as dead. You never believed one way or the other.

Whatever the Count was doing was his own business. Until now, you hadn’t really considered him to be real at all.

In your search for the library, you’d come across a massive stone staircase curving up the belly of a turret. It beckoned you upstairs, growing darker with every turn. What was another dare to you anyway? Heavy rain pelted the windows that framed the grand staircase, the sound covering your footfalls as you moved up. Your feet made quick work of the stairs, finding taking them two at a time to be much easier to navigate as you propelled yourself forward into the uncharted parts of the castle.

You swept the flashlight over the landing, trying to inspect which direction might lead toward a library. The castle did not give up its secrets so easily and you were forced to charge ahead. Halfway down the hall, your light caught a massive set of double doors—twice your height and intricately carved. The doors were heavy, groaning loudly as you pushed through them.

The smell of dust, paper, and old leather hit you hard as you stepped inside. You – 1, Debra – 0.

Unlike the other rooms, it looked like no one had been in the library in years. Well stocked shelves line nearly every stretch of the layout, but every surface was coated in thick dust and cobwebs. You pulled the collar of your t-shirt over your face like a makeshift mask and pointed your flashlight into the room.

This was it. All you had to do was grab the first available book you could find, make a mad dash back to the dorms, and Debra would be forced to shut the fuck up for the rest of the night. You were unsure if the prize was worth the risk, but you’d come this far.

You quickly scanned the room, waving your flashlight over the surfaces once more. There, next to what appeared to be a full suit of armor holding a sword, sat a small table. Atop the table was a leatherbound volume on top just waiting to be snatched up. You crept forward, flashes of lightning reaching areas of the room that your flashlight couldn’t. With your fingers outstretched you reached for the book.

A crack of thunder ripped through the castle, violently shaking the leaded windows of the library. But it wasn’t the thunder that made you yelp and fling yourself backward. You collided with the knight, the back of your hand splitting open as it connected with the sword. Your flashlight went the other direction, flipping uselessly through the air until it landed across the room and exploded on impact. Fuck. Blood began beading to the surface of your fresh cut as a small, brown rat squeaked at you from the table.

You climbed back to your feet and shooed the rat away, shaking your head at your own ridiculousness. It dove off the table with another adorable squeak, its little legs carrying it away faster than you thought possible. Now unguarded, you fetched the book from the table and squinted in the darkness to find the exit.

A streak of lightning burned across the sky, illuminating the room enough to make out the doorway and the odd shape shadowed beneath it. Was someone standing there? Had you hit your head? Surely your eyes were just playing tricks on you. First the rat and now a phantom? The storm was really starting to fuck with you.

You shifted to your left; arm outstretched as you felt for the cold stone of the castle walls. It was too dark to see more than a couple of inches, but maybe you could feel your way back to where you’d seen the door.

Another bolt sparked across the sky and this time you knew you’d seen someone. Your stomach sank as your heart jumped into your throat. No one was supposed to be in the East Wing, least of all you, but you didn’t think anyone else would be here. A smaller flash revealed the shape of a man, closer now.

You swallowed hard. This was not good.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the near constant pulse of lightning happening around you, but you knew he couldn’t be anyone else. The Count began to shift between the bursts of light, moving in a haunting, almost undetectable way. You broke into a run, heading in the direction of the double doors. You didn’t want to tackle an old man, but you would if you had to.

He let you run past him, not bothering to try to stop you as you bolted past and spilled into the hall. You were sure you could outrun him, legs and lungs burning as you went, but you could hear the tap of his behind you with every slow step he took. His pace didn’t change—that the tap, tap, tap was almost relentlessly steady—but somehow, he was now in front of you.

You failed to stop in time, your head bouncing off the Count’s chest like he was made of stone. The book landed with a heavy thud at his feet as you tumbled backward. He stepped over it, unnoticed as he advanced on you.

“Are you trying to steal from me?” his voice low, accent thick. “That’s not very nice, dolce.”

“No, I—uh—” you fumbled through the words, scrambling backward as you tried to climb to your feet. Your hands clawed at the floor, finding no purchase in the hardwood to raise yourself up. Even if you could, he’d be right back on top of you. In the darkness of the hallway, you could still catch his eyes fixed on you—one burning stark white against the shadows. “I—”

“You—you—you,” he mocked as he leaned over you, the cane slamming down near your hand. “What was so important to you, hmm? What have you come to try to take from me?”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—ah!” Before you could begin to argue, his fists closed around your collar. He hauled you up roughly and set you against the wall like you were nothing. What the fuck?

He flashed you a smile that was completely devoid of kindness as he pinned you against the wall with the end of his cane. He held you there as he leaned down and plucked the book from the floor. “German Folktales, dolce?” he asked, voice thick with disbelief. “Is that really why you snuck all the way up here?”

“Please,” you pleaded, writhing under the cane. “I won’t—”

“But you did, cara,” he teased, his voice low as he traced a gloved finger over your jaw. “The proof is right here, I’m afraid.”

“Please, I wasn’t stealing,” you finally explained, a single tear rolling down your cheek. If you made it out of this, you swore were going to kill Sister Debra yourself. “It was just a stupid dare.”

He leaned in closer, his lips near the shell of your ear. “A dare? This is a game to you, dolce?”

The castle shuddered around you as the power blinked back to life. One by one, the lightbulbs in the sconces lining the hall flickered, illuminating The Count in a strange, dim glow. You were finally able to get a good look at the man who had caught you in his castle. He wasn’t unlike his portrait, his features sharp and handsome. His face was framed by carefully carved sideburns and a meticulously tamed mustache, but his hair was slightly out of place and his skin was much paler than the portrait’s. He boldly highlighted his eyes by smearing thick dark circles around them, making the white even more noticeable.

He was dressed in a black suit, each piece tightly fitted to perfectly hug the curve of his body. A thick, black velvet cape rested over his square shoulders, fastened together by an elegant bat shaped brooch of diamonds and rubies housed in white gold. He certainly dressed like a Count, from which century was debatable.

He slowly lowered the cane, its handle catching slightly on the collar he’d stretched out by tossing you around. Another smile was offered, a flash of sharp white teeth as he drank you in.

“Cat got your tongue, dolce?” he purred. “You were so brave before.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way his words cut right through you. “I—"

“Oh, dolce,” he whispered before he slid away from you. “I’m Count Copia,” he said as he took your hand and dipped into a little bow. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. He looked up, eyes connecting with yours as he tasted blood in his kiss. “Dolce, you’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. I just fell—oh!”

His tongue darted out, carefully swiping over the cut on your hand. The Count let your blood flow over it, red smearing over pink as he hungrily licked it back into his mouth. You brain began to short circuit, vision going fuzzy as he lathed over your wound a second time, torturously slow as he savored each drop. As he drew his tongue back into his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head and the sound that left him was obscene. A low, guttural moan rose from his chest, so lascivious you were sure it had to be the same noise he made while finishing himself off. As scared as you were, that sound went right through you, stoking a fire between your legs.

He smiled at the small whimper you made, a subtle softness blooming behind his eyes as they locked on yours. It betrayed the sharp edge of his teeth. “Enjoy the book, dolce.”

(part two) (part three)

mutuals dont worry im going to eroticize horror and gore with you and keep you alive forever

nervous kiss x “can I kiss you?” with secundo 🫣

ha ha ha ha. about 1.2k words! we love a mysterious, nervous secondo.

The man had been coming in during your shift for the last few months. He would always order the same thing - a doppio espresso and sit at the end of the bar either reading or writing something in a tiny, black pocket notebook. At first, you weren’t sure about him — the face paint could be off-putting at times and it took you a few visits to realize that there were times he came in without it, his mismatched eyes hidden with dark sunglasses. You ended up recognizing his voice and put two and two together.

He never bothers anyone, only staying on his stool, deep in his reading and writing. It was difficult for you to not be drawn to him, the man wears skull paint and is so very relaxed about it. Yet, you realized you’ve never seen him smile. You started to have his espresso ready for him as soon as you saw him come in and you swear the first time you did it, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a minuscule grin. The more you had his espresso ready for him, the more he began to speak to you, starting off with small pleasantries and moving into some easy conversations.

He told you he went by Secondo but wouldn’t share much else about himself so you ended up telling him how this is a second job for you to help make ends meet but that you also really enjoy making drinks anyway. He seems fascinated with how you move behind the bar and will routinely take breaks from his work to watch you make people’s drinks, trying to guess what ingredients are needed. Secondo slowly became your favorite regular, especially after learning he only came into the store during your shifts.

During this particular shift, he hasn’t come in yet at his usual time and the thought that maybe he won’t be in today crosses your mind. The pre-closer has already left so you’re working on your closing tasks. It’s been a slow evening with steady rain outside, deterring the evening coffee drinkers. You’re working on wiping down the bar when he finally arrives, black umbrella in hand and his usual immaculate skull paint. You give him a small wave.

“On me today, Secondo.” You smile wide and he gives a small sigh before walking over to the bar. He knows better than to argue with you, at least when it comes to free drinks. You pull his shots of espresso as he gets settled, laying out his book and his notebook on the counter.

“Just you tonight, dolce?” His thick Italian accent rolls off his tongue.

“Mhmm. You’re in late today.”

“Ah, la pioggia, the rain kept me away but… well, I needed my doppio.” He offers a smile - he’s been doing that more often these days and it makes your chest tighten.

“Well, thank you for visiting. It’s been slow today.” You wave a hand around the empty coffee shop. “I’ve been a little lonely.” You slide his cup and saucer toward him on the bar and he reaches for it, the smooth leather of his gloved finger brushes against yours. A breath catches in your throat.

“I am happy to keep you company, dolce.” He lifts the espresso cup that looks comical in his large hand to his lips and takes a sip. A content sigh escapes his lips.

You work quietly on your closing duties but still make sure to check in on him from time to time. As your break time gets closer, you eye up the display case for a snack. You settle on a brownie and you carefully take it out with a piece of parchment paper before putting it on a tray and sticking it into the oven for about ten seconds.

You carefully set the brownie on a plate and grab two spoons before making your way over to the bar. Secondo’s eyes drift along your figure as you come closer and he watches as you sit right beside him at the bar. You slide the brownie in between the two of you and settle a fork on his side of the place.

“Share this with me?” You scoot in closer to him and use your fork to take a small bite of brownie. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Secondo look so blank. He nods and picks up the fork, beginning to slowly pick at the brownie.

“It’s very good, dolce.” He says quietly between bites. His eyes shift to your face. “A-ah, you have a little something —“ Secondo points to your face. You swallow the piece of brownie and try to wipe at the spot he is pointing. “Let me.”

He leans in and reaches his hand out, carefully using his finger to wipe away the brownie crumbs at the corner of your mouth. You feel your cheeks flush at his touch and he lingers there for what feels like eternity. Secondo’s finger moves from the edge of your lip to your cheek, the tips of the rest of his fingers brushing against it. You suck in a short breath, your eyes fixed on his. His brows knit together, hand quivering before he gave a soft breath.

“Can… can I kiss you, dolce?” Secondo whispers, his voice barely audible. He looks unsure of himself and almost a little bit afraid, even though you almost immediately nod yes. His hand cups your cheek and he very slowly leans in, his lips ghosting yours before he presses them to yours. The taste of espresso still lingers as you kiss him back, your lips moving carefully against his. He pulls away just an inch, feeling his hot breath on your lips as he gazes into your eyes

You lean in again just as his hand drifts to firmly grip the back of your neck. Secondo groans quietly as your hands fall to his chest, your tongue moving against his. You forget about the brownie and the work you’re supposed to be doing, your hands running over his strong chest and moving in as close to him as you can, practically getting into his lap. He wraps his spare arm around you, holding you to him while he deepens the kiss, using his grip on your neck to tilt your head back.

You moan into the kiss, your eyes fluttering open slowly as he pulls away. The two of you are left panting, the brownie nearly out of your reach after you’ve made your way into his lap. His gloved fingers toy with your apron, his dark eyes meeting yours. Your breathing quiets and you lean a bit away from him to take him in.

“I should… I should probably finish up closing.” You can feel your entire face heat up, realizing that you had just made out with a customer.

“Mm, si, si.” He sucks in a breath. “May I wait for you? Maybe… take you out for a drink that isn’t coffee?”

You nearly fall out of his lap, though you’re able to get your legs working again. If he didn’t see your blush before, you’re sure he can see it now, feeling it all the way up to the tips of your ears.

“I would love that, Secondo.” You can hardly hide the excitement in your voice. His lips curl into a small smile and he clears his throat, reaching for his umbrella.

“I’ll leave you to it then, dolce. I’ll be outside waiting.”

Fighting the urge to post every single new Vampire Secondo scene I'm writing as a preview so I don't already spoil the best bits 👊🏼👊🏼👊🏼

blue secondo 🦋

microdosing on self love by projecting my insecurities onto fictional characters and loving them

Here Comes The Sun (Luleå 2011)

I'm so obsessed with Secondo using my dove as a pet name for his love because to him it represent a sort of innocent optimism, a sign of positive change in his life, reprieve from the banality and the aversion he holds for his duties in the senior clergy, freedom and relief from his own trauma and deep-rooted pain as well as a calmer state of mind and making peace with his past to move into a happier future. The first time he uses it it just feels right. And he is a romantic, he wants you to feel the implications of his use of the name, enunciating it in a way that makes the word heavy with how much emotion it carries. This man has more devotion in his little finger than others carry in their whole body. There is no way you won't feel utterly loved by him at all times.

Am I over-analyzing my own HCs? Maybe.