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Line Art of your Character
A New Start by deejay2co
Aria by deejay2co
Aria again by deejay2co
Lindsey is hungry by deejay2co
I will draw your original character in one of many forms. Extra characters will cost extra, as well as backgrounds and color. Just about anything goes, but to be on the safe side, just ask.



Nov 21, 2014
1:08 pm
Nov 21, 2014
10:12 am
Nov 21, 2014
10:10 am
Nov 19, 2014
5:52 pm
Nov 11, 2014
5:14 am


deejay2co's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United States
I love drawing anime/manga, one day I would like to make my own manga but for now I draw different characters to inspire my writing. Music inspires my art and writing. I am also inspired by Bleach, Death Note, etc.


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I am starting a project on Indiegogo and Kickstarter. I will need a lot of concept art to post on the project pages to get people to donate money for what will eventually become my comic/manga. (because they need to see what they're donating for)

That's where these donations will come in. I'll use these points to commission artists to professionally draw the concept art.

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Indiegogo project launched
Please help make my dream come true, if somebody can earn hundreds of thousands of dollars on a crowd funding site just because they're making potato salad for the first time, then I'm sure my reason is much more valid. Thank you all who supports me :)

Indiegogo project launched

Tue Oct 14, 2014, 2:05 AM
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Listening to: Two Steps From Hell
  • Reading: whatever I just wrote
  • Watching: YouTube videos
  • Playing: Destiny
  • Eating: air
  • Drinking: water
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: ideologically sensitive material)
Two months had been enough time for Don Giordino to be forgotten by the tattered remains of his family and friends. They had also been more than enough time for Don Giordino to truly learn what it meant to go to Hell.

Fire and brimstone had been death’s archetypes in his catholic upbringing – and the underworld had them in no short supply. But Hell was not as barren as the church had wanted him to believe. After a brief adjustment period, Don even found it to be similar to his time on Earth: it had roads, and commerce, and even whole cities sheltered amongst the jagged crags and red rocks of its landscape.

Redland was the largest and chief most of these municipalities – the very heart of Hell. When the demons had come for Don’s soul, that was where he’d quickly found himself. The former crime lord had been prepared for torture in every form imaginable; and yet he instead found himself blessed with wealth and power infinitely greater than anything he’d known among the living. Hell punished those who eventually succumbed to their evil tendencies; but it rewarded those who lived their lives with them. The Dark Prince himself had crowned Don Giordino as one of the Lords of Hell and, in doing so, made death into the start of a new life for the man.

And any new Lord of Hell was quick to learn that while Redland was the heart of Hell, the Crimson Palace was the heart of Redland. And while no Lord of Hell was ever denied access, few willingly chose to enter the fortress. It was a place both depressing and horrifying, said to contain a room for every form of punishment imaginable – the screams from which formed a constant, macabre chorus that filled its halls every day and night. It was also the home of The Dark Prince – which, if nothing else, was more than enough of a deterrent for most.

But Don Giordino had not been given a position of power for being spineless. In life he had seen and carried out enough bloodshed to snap the mind of a lesser man, had even gone so far as to stare his eventual killer in the eyes. He was already dead; and he figured he had little left to fear.

A pair of burly demons waved him through the front gate, where a far shapelier demoness led him through the courtyard and lower levels. The palace itself quickly became a labyrinth for Don; and he knew then why few who entered The Dark Prince’s citadel never came out. It was much to his relief that, when they ascended the stairs to the penthouse, his guide decided to remain just outside – ready and willing to take him back outside when all was said and done.

Giordino straightened his tie and smoothed back his oily hair. He reached out to knock; but the doors swung open before his knuckles touched the brass. Without having to be told, he strolled into the chamber’s dark interior – forcing himself not to look back as the way out closed behind him.

The room itself had an almost cozy feel to it – an ironic twist, for being the lair of absolute evil. A fireplace crackled contentedly in one corner, ringed by walls lined with towering bookshelves that spanned from across history. Intricately woven red and orange rugs lined the floor, leading visitors to the far wall – one that had been turned into a great, single window that overlooked the city below. While the landscape around Redland still glowed with Hellfire, the glass eerily seemed to absorb the light to keep the room in a perpetual shade of shadow.

In the center of the room sat a large desk, devoid of all but the bare essentials. At the desk sat a figure that, at a glance, seemed no different than any other man. Clean-shaven (save for a short goatee) and no older than his late twenties, he was hardly an imposing figure; but the longer one remained in his presence, the more they felt his aura of superiority. It was a darkness far older and far more powerful than anything inside creation’s boundaries could appreciate that clung to The Dark Prince; and it was a strength even the infamous Don Giordino could learn to respect.

The man gestured towards a chair directly across from him, and Don took a seat. Aside from his host, Giordino was only aware of one other object on the desk: a small, black nametag with fine white writing. It was said that the name on it changed every day, but that patterns would appear over time. During the middle ages it rather bluntly boasted titles like “Satan” and “Lucifer.” As culture changed and the Devil became more archaic and mysterious the nametag changed to compensate, adopting labels like “Natas” and “Old Nick.” During the seventies, it was rumored that The Dark Prince would periodically change it to “Ozzy Osbourne” when he was in a particularly good mood.

Today, Don was addressing “Diabolus.” He vaguely recognized the title as Greek; but he also had never taken his education or his religion very seriously, and could discern little more than that. As far as he was concerned, he was talking to his boss – and little more mattered than that.

“Ah Don, always a pleasure.” The Dark Prince purred. He reached under his desk and produced a pair of cigars, popping one into his own mouth. He offered the second to his guest, but Giordino declined. The crime lord had been an avid smoker back among the living; but the very act of breathing in the underworld was like one long drag on a particularly bad cigarette.

“I believe this is the first time we’ve been able to speak one-on-one.” Diabolus mused, replacing the unwanted cigar under his desk. “Believe me when I say I’m honored to have some of your precious time.”

“I’m an immortal soul: all I have is time.” Don said with a weak smile.

“Not all.” The Devil noted, nodding towards the crime lord. “You didn’t come here to compliment my goatee or hit on my secretary. You want something, Don.”

“Don’t we all?”

Giordino produced a red folder and pushed it across the desk. Diabolus eased it open and flipped through the first few pages, his brow furrowing slightly. As he neared the end, though, his expression changed from distaste to amusement.

“Who told you about the Black Magic Grant?”

“A little birdie.” Don said coyly.

“Well did your ‘little birdie’ mention that I reserve these for very important cases? Lost and evil spirits trapped in the world of the living, or powerful demons capable of crossing into the human world?”

“It eluded to that, yes.”

“I restrict them for good reason.” Lucifer explained. He leaned across the table, pulling back one cheek to expose his gum. Three molars were notably missing, tarnishing his otherwise flawless smile.

“A little part of me goes into every grant. You use my essence to warp a person’s physical body. True, said person receives a number of noteworthy benefits: they can breathe fire, fly, change form, and even manipulate the minds of others. They’re my answer for Heaven’s archangels. But they’re not cheap, and (while I hate to say it) they’re not usually worth the effort.

“Which brings me to ask why you of all people want one, Don Giordino?” The Dark Prince asked quietly. “It isn’t for yourself. The grants are useless once you’ve crossed into Heaven or Hell. So it has to be for someone in the world of the living…”

The Devil turned back to the folder, ruffling back through the pages. He stopped somewhere near the middle – on a photograph of a young girl with long, brown hair and dark, chocolate colored eyes.

“Remarkable!” Diabolus laughed incredulously. When his chuckles subsided he added “As the Prince of Lies, I’m sometimes blind to the truth. Don Giordino – the man who never gave a damn about human life – has a soft spot for his little girl!”

“I suppose you think I’m weak for it?”

“No.” Lucifer said immediately, his face suddenly growing very serious. “No man acts out evil for the sake of it. There is always a motive – always a cause behind his actions. Most do it for love of themselves and their own gain. But not you, Don Giordino. You haven’t loved yourself since you killed your wife almost two decades ago.”

The crime lord cringed. It was one of his few acts that he’d come to despise. The fight had been a long time coming; but he’d never meant for the argument to end with a body. He had told Lindsey her mother had died in a car accident; but it hadn’t stopped the girl from growing up motherless.

“I’ve often wondered what your incentive was.” The Dark Prince admitted. “Now I guess I know.”

Diabolus snatched up the folder and straightened the pages inside. Unlocking one of the drawers to his desk he slid the file inside with an affirming nod. Then, reaching into his mouth, he took hold of something and yanked it free. That “something” turned out to be a molar – one which he presented to his newest Lord of Hell.

“Give this to one of my errand imps.” The Devil explained. “Lesser demons can easily slip into the mortal world. Instruct the creature to slip this into your daughter’s drink or food. It will become essence: tasteless and undetectable. Once absorbed, the transformation will begin. She won’t be able to control it at first, but she’ll learn over time.”

“Thank you.” Don said with a sigh of relief, rising to leave. Before he could turn a presence took hold of his mind – a will that wasn’t his own that held him in place, forcing him to look his boss in the eyes.

“I always find it interesting to see what parents will do for their children.” Lucifer mused. “They’ll throw themselves in front of cars, even starve themselves. Selflessness – especially from people who are otherwise sinful or deceptive – always pains me.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. You aren’t a parent.”

“True, very true.” The Dark Prince conceded. “But also don’t think that I didn’t catch your ulterior motive in all of this, Don. You think your rivals – the other mafia families, the ones that eventually killed you – will go after your daughter. Sure, you’re protecting her; but you’re also enacting your own revenge.”

The grip on Giordino’s mind released, leaving him free to go. But Don stayed for a moment longer – just long enough to give one last, confident smile.

“They say a troubled spirit cannot rest until it has found peace.” The crime lord mused. “At this point, I’ll literally raise Hell if it will help me find it.”

He turned to go, the burning eyes of Diabolus boring into his back. When the doors shut behind Don Giordino, the Devil could not suppress another cackling laugh.

Lucifer worked his tongue over the bare spot on his gum, shaking his head. Allowing the Black Magic Grant was an unusual act of generosity on his part. But Don was not the only one with ulterior motives in their transaction – and, somewhere in his subconscious, the crime lord probably knew it.

The Devil turned back towards his great window, casting his gaze out across the charred landscape of Hell. Earth had long since forgotten the terror he was capable of bringing, the lawless and civil unrest it had known in the past. In life Don Giordino had come close to showing Avalon City that same gut-wrenching fear through his unsavory appetite for killing.

Lucifer hoped his daughter shared that same rampant neglect for human life. Through her, he planned to take the modern era back. To an immortal, life was a show – a play whose acts spanned the course of centuries. Now that he controlled an actor, he could slowly move the spotlight back where he wanted it.

But if nothing else, as the audience, he planned to be thoroughly entertained.
The police station was kept at a comfortable (if not chilly) sixty-eight degree year around. But Matthew felt every inch of his body sweltering, as if he were in a sauna. It was not his first interrogation, certainly; but there was something about Lindsey that made him nervous, that made him uncomfortable.

A jarring buzz indicated the door had been unlocked. Straightening his tie, the policeman pushed his way into the interrogation room. His reflection greeted him on two sides, courtesy of the one-way mirrors along the walls. But, far more impressive than the supposed glass, was the young woman who sat across from him.

Matthew had been able to see Lindsey for the better part of half an hour, ever since she’d been brought into the station. She, as her birth records showed, was a girl in her early twenties with long, brown hair and a relatively slim build. There was nothing unusual there. But the truly unsettling detail, even from safely behind the one-way glass, was her eyes. There weren’t a chocolate brown as her file claimed but a fiery red, like live coals.

Actually stepping into the same room, Matthew could practically feel the young woman’s presence. She was a few years younger than the officer; and yet he felt as if he were sitting down with something far more ancient and far, far more powerful.

“Good evening Miss. I hope you don’t mind if I ask a few questions?”

Her gaze slowly drifted up to him. She didn’t answer; but she didn’t resist, either.

Matthew could imagine she had a very reasonable question of her own: what was she doing in an interrogation room? She was a witness, not a suspect; and protocol dictated she never had to be brought into the station at all.

But protocol couldn’t appreciate circumstance. She hadn’t been taken in because she was Lindsey: she had been taken in because of her father. Don Giordino was the white elephant in the room, the crime lord that had carved his name into the very foundation of Avalon City. Even after being dead for more than two months, his reputation was still very much alive; and it kept the police force very cautious.

“Were you out with Michaela Stone and Linda Abella earlier this evening?”

“I was.” Lindsey replied. Her voice was melodic, in a way; but it was cold and unfeeling. Matthew had a hard time discerning whether that macabre lack of emotion was natural, or an inadvertent side-effect of the night’s events.

“Would you mind recounting your last few hours?”

“I would.”

The policeman opened his mouth to reply, but his resolve fell short. He glanced at one of the mirrors for support; but only his troubled reflection looked back at him.

“As far as we can tell,” he said, starting again “you and your cousin, Linda, each received a call from Michaela roughly three hours ago. The three of you made your separate ways into downtown and met behind Danny’s Pub. Can you confirm this?”

“I can.”

Matthew didn’t know how to approach the next topic. Taking the easiest route available he drew a brown folder from his jacket and slid it across the table. Lindsey refused to touch it; so, taking the initiative, the policeman reached out and flipped it open.

Inside were three photographs, each approaching the same scene from a different angle. Two bodies, both badly burned, lay crumpled against opposite walls of a back alleyway. The clothes were all but ashes and, in certain places, the skin and muscle had been burned down to the bone. The only still recognizably human feature for each corpse was its teeth, starkly white against the surrounding black flesh – but teeth alone weren’t enough to quickly identify the bodies.

“We got a call from the owner of Danny’s after you ran in screaming. He says that you never told him what happened: he had to go out back and see for himself. But if we’re going to catch this killer, Miss Giordino, we need you to give us more details.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

In Matthew’s opinion, she didn’t have much of a choice. But when he moved to tell her as much his mind seemed to snap. It was if there was another presence in his head, turning his thoughts away from the subject. After several seconds, the very notion of the question was enough to make him nauseous. For all his considerable tenacity, the police officer submitted and withdrew the photographs.

“Your aunt and uncle have already been informed that one of those bodies may belong to their daughter.” The cop explained. “We gave them a call a few minutes ago. We’ve given them some time to cope with the news.”

“I see.”

“You’ve been living with them for the last two months. We were hoping you could tell us if anyone had a motive to do this? A reason to strike out against the Abellas? You seem to have grown close to your mother’s side of the family, after the unfortunate death of your father.”

The room was suddenly ablaze. Matthew was no longer sweating out of nerves: it was like his skin was melting, like he was turning into one of the bodies in the photographs. The alien presence in his mind returned: this time not just forceful, but angry.

“Unfortunate?” Lindsey demanded. It was the first time she’d taken the initiative to speak; and Matthew had to admit he wished she hadn’t.

“I’m sure it was really unfortunate for the head of a crime family to suddenly disappear. It must be a real tragedy for the police force every time they bring down a serial killer or execute a convicted murderer too, huh? Or was my father some sort of exemplary character among the rest of this city’s underbelly?”

She seemed to burn herself out. Gradually the temperature in the room returned to normal, and the fire in her eyes dwindled down to cinders and subsided. She averted her gaze again and crossed her arms, as stoically indifferent as she’d been minutes before.

“You’ve had a rough night.” Matthew said, giving her his best sympathetic smile. “I can imagine you’re tired of cops nagging you. I’ll try to get the force off your back for a bit, maybe a day or two – but expect someone to come snooping around then. This case is far from solved.”

He reached into his front pocket and took out a small notepad. Tearing out a page he scribbled a number down and passed it across the table.

“You know how to reach the police. But that is my cell phone. If there are any problems, call me directly. I’ll help if I can.”

She didn’t take the page. Sighing, Matthew reached over and tucked it into the crook of one arm. He moved back towards the door; but, almost as an afterthought, he reached out and put a comforting hand on one of the girl’s shoulders.

“I know the government pays me to help in situations like this.” He confessed. “But that doesn’t stop me from being genuinely moved. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer: I chose to be a cop.”

“And, as a cop, this is completely off the record.” He said, leaning in close. “But I sort of looked up to your dad as a kid. The man singlehandedly worked his way from being nothing to being the emperor of a criminal empire! When I played cops and robbers as a kid I always volunteered to be the robber, just so I could call myself Don Giordino.

“Your dad did some bad things. But the people in charge of this town now? They’ve done a lot worse. We were better off with him. I’m sorry for your loss… and ours.”

The unfamiliar presence returned to his mind. Immediately Matthew panicked, expecting to find himself sick or burning like before. But instead a very different, very unexpected sensation came over him: lust. It took all of his considerable willpower not to throw himself on top of Lindsey right then and there; and, when he didn’t, she seemed almost… disappointed.

“Thank you, officer.” She said, managing her first smile that evening. She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek; and, blushing furiously, he spun and hurried out of the room.

His partner met him on the other side of the door. Mina was an experienced cop in her early forties, battling crime on Avalon City’s streets since almost before Matthew was born. There was an aura of wisdom and moral judgment about her unparalleled not just by the others in the police force, but by anyone Matthew had ever known.

But the wisdom came at a cost. No one enjoyed saying “I told you so!” more than Mina Anderson; and no one heard it as much as her partner.

“Fun night, huh?” she asked, elbowing Matthew in the ribs.

“What do you mean?”

“Your witness seemed to really… warm up to you there towards the end. Sure, cops sometimes get a ‘thank you’ after our work is done. But it usually isn’t a kiss from a nice young lady. It isn’t illegal to date someone just because they’ve come into the station…”

“I’m not sure I’d want to.” Matthew admitted.

They rounded a bend in the hallway, passing by one of the one-way mirrors. Lindsey still sat at the table, as quiet as ever; but, somewhere in the facets of her stoic face, there seemed to be the tiniest flicker of happiness.

“I don’t know what to make of her.” He said, stopping to take another long look at the witness. “Her emotions seemed to jump all over the place. I can’t tell if she was raddled, or if she was just…”

“Crazy?” Mina finished. “Her father was an evil man. But he had a good head on his shoulders. I doubt one generation would be enough to lose it.”

Inside the interrogation room Lindsey turned her head, looking towards Matthew and his partner. At first the cop figured she was simply looking at her own reflection; but then she met his eyes and gave him a charismatic wink.

With a shiver he turned and continued down the hallway, Mina close on his heels. He wasn’t sure whether or not Lindsey Giordino was crazy; but he was sure that there was something at play he was missing.

Of course, the only person who could tell him more was Lindsey herself. He wasn’t that eager to find out. Mathew had a feeling that getting involved with the daughter of Don Giordino – whether he was dead or not – would be as dangerous as dancing with the devil.


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Bowtothedrow Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! I hope it is a good one!
deejay2co Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks a lot! It was a little boring though.
Bowtothedrow Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
I can empathize. Birthdays just aren't the same when you outgrow lazertag and bouncy-houses :(
OKneko Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
and the second one icon commission 2 by OKneko
OKneko Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
first group icon is ready!
Icon commission by OKneko tell me what you think!
StormBloom Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave :D
AngelsLullaby22 Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2014
Thank you!
MagalindaDragonne Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014  Student Photographer
Thank you! You will be a featured deviant and receive some faves and some llamas!
SpaceShipEarth Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014

Welcome to :iconadult-artists:

TCS1992 Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch!
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