A Twisted Destiny ; OH SACRED HEART

“Lord shmord, you are my son, I’ll call you as I please.” Athena floated toward her son and pausing. “I sense another, Dio? Did you… Do something?”

“I, well, yes. Of course. You are the only one with that right.” He was hallucinating, right? But then, he’d thought the same back when he’d put the mask on Jojo.

“Hello, Dio!”

“The correct way to address me is Lord Joestar--” Wait.

It was only natural a vampire could track the source of the scent down, and it was a boy hiding in an alley, bleeding badly. 

Free meal, a part of him whispered, one he shook off as quickly as he could. No, this was only a child...he couldn’t. He couldn’t take the blood of a child and deny him his future.

Besides, free meals were not any fun.

He strides closer, the chill around him no doubt noticeable. He had no bandages on him, but he had a handkerchief, one he would take out of his pocket to offer up as he approached.

Taken for: Vampire Jonathan Joestar

Stolen from: @ierotero​ Tagging: feel free to do it!

Seventh Level of Hell

Guarded by the Minotaur, who snarls in fury, and encircled within the river Phlegethon, filled with boiling blood, is the Seventh Level of Hell. The violent, the assassins, the tyrants, and the war-mongers lament their pitiless mischiefs in the river, while centaurs armed with bows and arrows shoot those who try to escape their punishment. The stench here is overpowering. This level is also home to the wood of the suicides - stunted and gnarled trees with twisting branches and poisoned fruit. At the time of final judgement, their bodies will hang from their branches. In those branches the Harpies, foul birdlike creatures with human faces, make their nests. Beyond the wood is scorching sand where those who committed violence against God and nature are showered with flakes of fire that rain down against their naked bodies. Blasphemers and sodomites writhe in pain, their tongues more loosed to lamentation, and out of their eyes gushes forth their woe. Usurers, who followed neither nature nor art, also share company in the Seventh Level.

“Oh, and I took the liberty of taking and selling all your knives when you came to live here.  I could imagine you stabbing me to death, and eeesh, it wasn’t pretty.  Can we try to get along?“

He really was trying to be a decent father.  Specifically, a father that didn’t die at the hands, poisons, knives, pillows, or books of Dio.  Which meant getting the expectation of no killing me out in the open.  

His knives...are gone!? He can’t even kill Dad #3 with those anymore!? What was there left to do!?

It seems Joseph has won. He will miss those knives of his. His precious knives.

“I...fine. I’ll get along with you. I promise not to try and kill you...I suppose?”

Joseph glared down at Dio.  The pouty face told him that it was a lie.  Dio had a history of murdering his fathers.  From what he’d learned, Dario had totally deserved to die.  It was important to take precautions.

“You were totally planning my murder.  Specifically, you were planning on shoving a pillow over my face at night and smothering me.  Really, Dio?  Poison’s usually your thing.  Are you that eager to rid the world of my snoring?”

“Maybe if you found some way to not snore so loudly I wouldn’t have considered it!”

Oh come on, Joseph! People change. Sometimes poison just isn’t someone’s thing anymore. Sometimes they move on to pillows and books.

Quite the woman, this one, and oh how she makes him uneasy.

“Instinct...? If every man had the ‘instinct’ to be a good father, then there would never be children who suffer because of the fools.”

Hmph, too tightly wound up in his image? She was wrong about that...and right to guess that it was something else.

“Are you planning on murdering me for the family fortune?  You don’t get one cent of the family fortune if you murder me.  I’ll be able to tell if you’re plotting my death, so don’t even bother pretending you’re not scheming if I catch you.  Got it?  If you want the family fortune, you gotta wait for me to die a natural death like a good, non-murderous son.”

That’s about the poutiest face he can make.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that I’ll be letting Erina do whatever it is mothers do to keep children pacified.”