#akomi

[awstenlookbook]

For Marvin Magazine, Awsten wears Akomi "Liputa" shoes in black / low ($295).

Styling by Kassidy Taylor assisted by Madalyn Boyd

📸Phil Knott

[chickinu]

Day 3 - Old OC

Akomi!!! This lil guy was created as far back as like...what, 11 years at this point? He started out as a Digimon OC (cause I love Digimon) and lookit him now :Dc

[animenekos]

Kare Baka: Wagahai no Kare wa Baka de R - Episode 3

[shimshamshimsham]

some pixel-y art i did cuz i felt weird and bored . first one is a redesign of an old character and second is some whatever street drawing . character comparison under the cut

Akomi 2021-2023 (pictured above)

Akomi 2024 (pictured above)

[irie2810]

Όσο κι αν λες πως δεν αξίζω δάκρυα, όταν ξαπλώνεις ξέρω κλαις ακόμη

Μες τη καρδιά μου είσαι εσύ μονάχα

Τ’άρωμά σου έχει το σεντόνι😮‍💨🖤

[royal-despair]

It’s execution time! It’s time to get youw just dessewts, Towimi!

A combination of art efforts done by @allyssinian @talentlessartblog​ and @triggeredpigeon! Execution written by @kurusue​

“Wait, what’s happening?” Torimi looked around in a panic as everyone in the room leered at her. Even Akomi was betraying her. “How dare you! Seojun is the Mastermind! He should be executed instead!”

Her complaints went unanswered and unheard.

“It’s execution time! It’s time to get youw just dessewts, Towimi!”

“How dare you! After everything I’ve done for you! You won’t get away with this!” Torimi shrieked.

Akomi brought down his little gavel on the red button, laughing to himself.

He dragged Torimi kicking and screaming out of the room to her execution. For some reason, she seemed unable to fight back.

“Come on, evewyone. You’we gonna wanna see this.”

The remaining students followed Akomi out of the room.

Owl Hunt

``All of the living students were lined up in front of a lush, green, and, most of all, digital terrain. It seemed somewhat familiar in an odd way.

“Come on, kids! Wet’s pway!”

Akomi smacked guns into all of the living students’ hands and stood off to the side, buzzing excitedly.

There was a brief moment of confusion until...Torimi flew out of the green terrain. She flew haphazardly around the air before disappearing back into the grass.

“Come on! You’ve gotta shoot hew!” Akomi exclaimed.

The students realized in surprise that they were running out of bullets. Oh dear, what would happen if they couldn’t hit her?

Torimi flew out of the grass again, stuffing and little cloth scraps fluttering about. Oh, they had been hitting her. Just not enough.

“You each onwy have one buwwet weft!”

Best to make it count.

With all the heart of people forced to brink, being tormented for weeks, each student lined up their last shot.

Runa: missed. Dmitri: missed. Leon: missed. Chiyo: missed. Takuma: missed. Fina: missed.

Seojun lined up his last shot. Torimi was in his grasp. He pulled the trigger.

Torimi disappeared into the grass. There was a moment of complete silence, only the sound of the gunshot echo remaining.

Akomi disappeared into the grass.

He resurfaced. In his hand, he held up a eviscerated plush in his hand. The head had been nearly completely blown off and laid crooked to one side. Stuffing dropped out of her body from nearly every orifice.

Torimi was dead. 

 Now just to find the actual Mastermind.

[royal-despair]

Now! Before it's too late! Make your choice! Execute Torimi or the person whose trying to help you, Seojun! 

You're really going to pick him? HIM? You remember those diary entries, right? The world is in shambles. Without me, it'll die! One fool's life isn't worth the entire earth, is it?

No, No, No, how could you do this to me? How could you do this? D͚̉͊ ̝͝Ǫ̀ ̬̄͋N͋̒͂ ̬̿͐'͒̒̕ ̽͠͡T̆́̅  ̟͗̒Y̦̐͠ ͍̿̿O̅̐͞ ́͘͟Ú̏̒ ͒̄̍ ̅̇͒K̈͑͘ Ņ̐ ̺̽Ô̊̂ ͆̏̾W͙͋͘ ̻͊ ͈̋H̛͆͝ ̇̑̚Ŏ̥͆ ̮̀̾W̎̋͞ ̐̃̕ ̭͠M ̛̈́́U͊̃́ ̇̚͞C̃͌̑ ̐͋̕H̅̂̅ ̘̾͐ ̀̈͒I̱̿̈ ̲̂̕ L̢̉͡ ̥̆Ơ͉͒ ̹̄V̯͋̀ E͑̌̚ ̽̓͡ ̋͋͗Y͊̀̕ ̻́Ö́̇̚ U??

[royal-despair]

His, one to win the game. Hers, one to save the world. 

Flying at Night - Ted Kooser, 1939 

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations. Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies like a snowflake falling on water. Below us, some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death, snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn back into the little system of his care. All night, the cities, like shimmering novas, tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.