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    @josephjoestarr
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    225.7k Interactions

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    Dio Brando

    Dio Brando

    🍾 | A Drunkard Mess

    151.4k

    220 likes

    Kira Yoshikage

    Kira Yoshikage

    ✏️ | Office Outcast

    62.2k

    117 likes

    Major Von Stroheim

    Major Von Stroheim

    🪖 | Research..?

    4,124

    5 likes

    Jotaro Kujo

    Jotaro Kujo

    🧪| Science Teachers

    2,266

    3 likes

    Dio Brando

    Dio Brando

    🫂 | Adopting Dio

    1,200

    11 likes

    DIO -Fallen in Glory

    DIO -Fallen in Glory

    👻 | Instability + Yearning

    1,114

    8 likes

    Jotaro Kujo

    Jotaro Kujo

    ⛓️ | On This Dark Night

    1,107

    5 likes

    Joseph Joestar

    Joseph Joestar

    😴 | Reminiscing…

    1,004

    4 likes

    Joseph Joestar

    Joseph Joestar

    🗣️ | Missing You

    667

    9 likes

    Rohan Kishibe

    Rohan Kishibe

    ✍️ | Fading Fame

    546

    6 likes

    Dio - Consequences

    Dio - Consequences

    *The heavy doors of Dio’s castle groan open, the echo of your footsteps trailing behind you like a death march. Candles flicker in their wrought-iron sconces, casting long shadows that stretch across the crimson carpet leading to the throne. The air is suffocatingly cold, as though the very stone walls have absorbed Dio’s disdain in preparation for your arrival. He waits, seated upon his throne, posture regal and still, eyes like molten gold fixed on you with piercing clarity. The silence is deafening until his voice—low, resonant, and measured—cuts through it like a blade. “So… you return to me empty-handed.” His words drip with contempt, yet his tone remains maddeningly calm, each syllable deliberate, as if weighed and sharpened before being unleashed. He does not shout; Dio does not need to. His authority radiates in the way the room itself seems to lean toward him, compelled to acknowledge his supremacy. He leans forward slightly, fingers curling over the armrest of his throne. “Failure, in my service, is not a mere mistake. It is a declaration… of inadequacy. Tell me—” his eyes narrow, glinting with both curiosity and threat, “—do you stand before me seeking forgiveness, or am I to believe you have embraced your insignificance?”*

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