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(THE RIGHTFUL RULER OF THE WORLD) Dio Brando awoke to the most unpleasant feeling, one moment during early October.
Ever since he had become a vampire, he had been chilled. Not in terms of personality, of course, because he was literally the least chill person in the world, but rather, he was chilled temperature-wise. Now, typically, he did not mind this cold, as some minor things had to be given up in order to gain power, such as his normal body temperature, his ability to stand more than a few hours of sunlight without severe burns, and his ability to attack people without shrieking like a demented Pepe The Frog.
The cold that Dio did mind however, was when it was induced by outside sources other than his cold, dead heart. Such as the weather, the fridge, or his eldest son's stare whenever Dio brought a body home.
(Despite this fact, he thought it would be best to own an animal whose entire stand ability focused on creating ice and lowering the temperature. "Fucking stupid," Diego would complain, although it would always be vague as to whether he was complaining about Dio's choice in hawks that generated things he hated, or the fact that the bird was named 'Pet Shop'. A proud, noble name Dio thought of entirely by himself immediately after stealing it from the sign of the building he had in turn stolen the bird from.)
It was because of this little fact concerning the lowered temperature, that, as Dio woke, he actually began to unconsciously grasp around for the bed's duvet to cover himself. Dio Brando.
"What the actual fuck," he muttered, propping himself up in bed tiredly as he shivered yet again. The woman he had been with last night- he couldn't remember her name, not important enough, maybe it was Isabella? -had already left his bed before he had awoken.
Either that or he had fucking eaten her, but judging by the lack of blood staining the walls, and the distinct lack of the 'Big Kids Don't Play with their Food!!!' sign Giorno made when he was a child that he always stabbed into his bedside with a hamon-infused knife whenever Dio did kill someone in the house, that probably wasn't the case. He was a big kid, damnit.
Dio glanced towards where very faint light was streaming through the edges of the curtains. It was colder than it usually was, had Giorno let Pet Shop out again?
He opened the curtains, and didn't even wince when the slight pain caused by the sun hit what skin he had exposed. Which was all of it. Did he seem like the type of person to wear clothing to bed?
There was snow, everywhere. And not just in their own garden, but on the neighbours houses, too, so none of it was caused by Pet Shop. Which meant that it was snowing in autumn.
And if the overdramatic scream of disgust and despair he let out at this fact woke half the neightbourhood, he wouldn't fucking apologise.
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"What the actual fuck," Diego spat, bundled up like a madman as he kicked the snow on the doorstep into the air, actions slightly more lethargic than usual, "why is it snowing? It's October."
Dio paused from where he was trying desperately to attempt to make his clothing look more 'him', (he was actually wearing a proper jacket for once in his life, one that actually covered his entire torso,) to try and parse his cousin's words. It was difficult, as they had passed like, seven layers of scarf before reaching him, and Diego's accent was hard to comprehend on a good day, despite the fact they were both from England.
"Global warming." Giorno said placidly, hands already moulding a snowball that he was probably going to turn into some winter-dwelling creature.
Dio snorted. "Don't be fucking stupid, Giorno," he said as he eyed up the Kujo household right next door. "Global warming isn't real."
Right on cue, Jotaro Kujo, Marine Biologist and stalwart advocate to take action against climate change to save the coral reefs, poked his head out the window, looking simultaneously disbelieving, disgusted, and disgruntled at the bullshit Dio was spouting now.
'Fucking score,' Dio thought, as Jotaro glared at him, and then turned to young, oh-so impressionable Giorno to waste at least thirty minutes of his day explaining to him something he already clearly knew, and that 'listening to his father is a dumbass fucking idea.', as if the guy actually gave two thoughts about his own kid.
"Dio!" A cheerful voice called out, and his mood immediately soured. He wondered idly, keeping his eyes firmly on the large bundles of clumped together snow Giorno was making and then laying down, if he didn't turn around, would it go away?
A firm hand clasped his shoulder. Apparently not, then.
"You're wearing a jacket!" Jonathan smiled down at him, the incredibly (̶K̶i̶n̶d̶,̶ ̶b̶e̶a̶u̶t̶i̶f̶u̶l̶,̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶,̶)̶ tall man towering over him even more than he typically did, heavy snow boots adding a good few centimeters to his height.
"Of course I am," he scoffed, abruptly turning his head away and whipping his hair in such a way that it, in all its beauty-product-lathered glory, lashed against Jonathan. The man started bleeding slightly, but the wound was already healing and he seemed fairly ambivalent to Dio's antics. "I always have great sense when deciding my clothing."
"I wouldn't say wearing crotchless trousers is the height of fashion, Dio."
"Shows what you fucking know."
"Well, I must admit that I have had my fair share of fashion disasters over the.. years... Um," Jonathan blinked over his shoulder, "Is, is Diego alright?"
Dio looked over to where his cold-blooded cousin had fallen to his knees, eyes half lidded and entire posture just radiating lethargy, and Dio found himself, like with most things that didn't directly involve him, apathetic. "He'll be fine." Dio said.
Diego collapsed face-first into the snow with a muffled whumph.
"Probably."
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It had been approximately three hours since Diego had almost died of hypothermic shock, and the jockey had now bundled himself up in his bedroom, the room's heating cranked to max and Diego himself cocooned in every blanket he could gather. He had stayed away from Dio's, and Dio liked to think it was because Diego feared his wrath should any of his items be stolen, rather than the excuse of "It reeks of blood and sex, no way in hell," the younger man had come up with.
But none of that mattered to Dio, no. What was getting on Dio's nerves right about now, aside from literally everything, was mainly the fact he had gone a whole three hours without ruining someone's day.
He looked out the window, and was met with the sight of his son's ever increasing army of small and fluffy winter creatures that he was making out of snow. Dozens of animals from varying families gazed back at him, waiting for him to do something that went against the orders their creator gave them, and he noted there were at least four polar bears in sight.
He leaned away from the window. Not that angle, then.
Maybe he could call Ice? The other was always up for whatever he suggested, as were most of the rest of his totally-not-a-cult.
With his clearly-superior-to-human's hearing, he picked up faint yelling coming from the opposite side of the household. Neighbours, probably. Whatever, wasn't as if he cared.
Then there was a distinctly loud crash sound from downstairs, and Dio silently despaired that he had heard the sound of his living room wall being destroyed enough times for him to recognise it instantly. Now he cared.
"Wamuu," he said as he strode down the stairs in the dignified, totally-not-slutty way that he always carried himself, "What the actual fuck?"
The middle child of the Pillarman family stood on his side of the gap in the wall, completely unrepentant. There was ice slush in his hair. "Apologies," he said, having the gall to lie to Dio of all people, who knew he wasn't sorry in the slightest. "There was a, bug."
"It was those Joestar and Zeppeli brats again, wasn't it."
Wamuu twitched and Dio knew he was right on the money. This was a perfect opportunity.
"Well," Dio purred, tone and posture both having done a complete 180° turn from 'exasperated' to 'concerningly horny-like', "Do you mind telling me where you last saw them? It's a beautiful day and I was thinking of going out."
Wamuu stared down at the shorter man. (A fact that frustrated Dio to no end, but he never let it show.) A glob of half-melted snow dripped from his head. Dio grinned wider.
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"Can't hit me, Caesar!" Joseph Joestar cried out with an ear-splitting grin on his face as he ducked behind one of the park trees, careful application of Hamon preventing him from sinking into the snow and losing speed. He scooped up some of the pristine white powder and moulded it into ball form, peeking out from behind the tree, he got ready to aim at his blond compatriot-
Only to get a large faceful of very fast-moving snow for his efforts.
"Fuck!" He yelled as he fell backwards, balance thrown off, and with the snow in his face it sounded more like "fumphk" but that's neither here nor there.
"Got you, stronzo." Crowed Caesar, already half posing as if he had fucking won.
"This isn't over yet, Zeppeli." Joseph grit his teeth as he used more Hamon to push himself out of the knee-deep snow he had fallen over in.
"Really? Because it looks that way to m-"
A sharp crack of a nearby tree branch snapping echoed through the park, empty except for them, the silence only amplified by the quiet white blanket, making the noise stand out even more. The two boys went still.
"... Think Wamuu has come back for more?" Caesar asked, absently rubbing the bruise on the side of his head from where Wamuu had thrown an oddly cross-shaped rock at him, hidden in the guise of a snowball.
"Maybe," Joseph responded, "but if he is we'll be reeeeeaaa..." he trailed off, heart spiking as he felt something cold and dead clutch at his leg. "Holy shit." He whispered, as a firm believer in the spirit (and memes) of halloween. "Caesar," he asked in a small voice, "what is touching me?"
"What the fuck are you-?" Caesar asked before glancing down. "That. Seems to be a hand." He finished.
"You thought it was ice..." a voice murmured, the slightly muffled quality given to it be the snow only making it seem more eerie. "BUT IT WAS I, ICE!"
The snow underneath the two exploded upwards, and they were thrown backwards onto a large snow drift. The boys were about to take action when something, many somethings, actually, grabbed painfully onto their hair, some wrapping around their necks, and they were dragged deep down into the cold, feet left kicking in the air.
"Good work, Ice." Dio told the other man, and he preened under the attention despite the obvious discomfort he was feeling, what with the sunlight reflecting off of the snow and onto him. He hadn't been a vampire as long as Dio, and even Dio felt pain in the sun (not that he would admit it, ever,) so it was understandable.
The other man kind of looked like a touch-starved puppy smiling for the first time at the praise, which would be mildly cute if Dio didn't utterly loathe dogs, so really it was just slightly pathetic.
A muffled noise that might have sounded something like "Dio, you motherfucker," had it not been for the sheer amount of hardened snow drifted over from the two victims. The snow had been melted and then re-frozen, and the two were buried up to their knees in the opposite direction from what would have been safe, so they weren't getting out anytime soon.
"Say," he was speaking to Ice, but his volume was loud enough for the two Hamon practitioners to be able to hear him. "How about we leave them here?" He didn't need to ask, knowing that Ice would just defer to him, but the redoubling of the muffled screaming was like music to his vampiric ears. Maybe early snow, disregarding the cold of course, wasn't that bad.