#the unraveling blog

[renee-writer]

I’ll never understand how you got through this horrid day.

And I only know a fraction of it.

How did you get yourself to go into the garden where you knew they’d take you? You knew everything that was going to happen and allowed it.

How did you deal with the pain of the whips tearing so deep into your back it got to your muscles? And the crown of thorns that pieced into your head?

How did the sight of pure hatred towards you in the eyes of the humans you created.. how did you still ask the Father to forgive them?

How did you stay quiet when you were getting questioned and accused? How did you remain quiet when the crowd who claimed to know God the most was screaming, “crucify” at you, God incarnate?

How did you carry that cross, like a criminal, to the top of Calvary knowing the worst pain was still ahead?

The pain of separation from the One you’ve always been one with.

I’ll never understand how you got through it.

I can only go back to this one truth: it was love.

Your wild, unfathomable, pure love, that kept you going.

Your love is the greatest gift there is, Jesus.

Ever.

And I only know a fraction of it.

~Kelli Bachara

[onemoreattempt]

It amuses me that Shannon is posting Taylor Swift style vague hints for Unraveled, but we are far more invested and interested in figuring out who the tam-cam blog is (not even who they are irl; just what their main blog is)

[twinsfawn]

𖤐

[uhohbestie]

Will there be a TAMN playlist?

There will, yeah! Once the fic is finished Key and I are going to compile our many (many, many) TAMN-related/inspiration songs and make an "official" playlist! We don't want to spoil anything, though, so we're going to hang on to it until the fic is completely posted! - 🔒

[lucyshypemaster]

hello....is anyone still active here....

[battle-subway-ghost]

{Off screen post}

[Sprite paced around his room before collasping on his bed, head in hands.

Ghost hadn't been responding to his texts. Ghost.

Was his friend (?)

What he saw last night wasn't his friend.

Something was wrong with him. Really wrong.

Something was distorting him- ruining him... Rotting him from the inside out...

He didn't remember pressing call on Paris's number, but heard it ring out three times before his friend answered. ]

"Paris... I don't-You're not... Something's wrong."

{Off-screen post}

[Paris sat up fully on the couch, his head spinning slightly- ugh... He wasn't feeling very well today, not after last night.

He held his forehead with his hand, narrowing his eyes- the lights were hurting his head, and if it weren't for this call, he'd be laying down right now...

It took a moment for Paris to respond, sounding disgruntled yet concerned when he finally did. Thankfully though, he sounded... normal, for lack of better words. Tired, but himself]

"heh- Sprite? What's happening-? You alright??"

[dicktat]

Just witnessed in real time some lad spam liking a bunch of my post, commented “WHAT” on my NSFW drawing and IMMEDIATELY blocked me

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

We promise that you didn't do anything wrong

But - but I messed up s’metimes, really bad, and I had to ‘cuz - ‘cuz it was the only thing in the Black & White, so He couldn’t do anything else. He had to, too…

[banksreads]

[renee-writer]

You’re going to be okay.

Your thoughts may be telling you otherwise.

Your body may be screaming at you otherwise.

Your circumstances may be showing you otherwise.

But you are, ultimately, going to be okay.

“Okay” might not mean “like you once were”, because maybe you will be forever changed.

You may have to walk through some really hard stuff to get there.

But you are going to be okay.

Because there is a strength within you that comes from the Sustainer of Life Himself.

There is a thread of hope within you that comes from the One who sees all eternity.

And when you are completely emptied, completely gutted, or completely out of options, He’s the lifeline you can grab ahold of...

No matter what your thoughts or circumstances are telling you,

His lifeline cannot vanish. It cannot break away.

Even though I don’t know your situation, this is how I know you are going to be okay.

Because God has always been a rescuer for all of time, and He won’t stop now.

He won’t stop with you.

You’re going to be okay.

~Kelli Bachara

I still have my printable workbooks available (not hard copies but you can print them out right away), one of which is on grief. If it might help you, here’s the link❤️

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheUnravelingByKelli

[mokeonn]

So I heard that Tumblr is slowly being abandoned (they seem to be laying off a majority of their staff and keeping a skeleton crew) and we might be nearing the end of this webbed site. I don't think it's currently worth panicking over, but I'm definitely going to start making that neocities website.

I'll make a post soon about other places where you can find me. Unfortunately, I've spent quite some time these last couple years getting rid of a majority of my social media because most platforms were bad for my mental health. I do not plan on going back to these platforms, so if tumblr goes down, I'm going to be only on non social media.

Maybe if one of the new social medias being created, actually take off (like bluesky or pillowfort or whatever else these days) I might join, but if not I might be entirely on personal websites, patreon (I will start posting regularly like a blog and make more free posts), some old websites I deleted but not because I hated them (such as ko-fi, which I deleted due to inactivity) and possibly furaffinity. I'm still on the fence about furaffinity. I might also finally start using my toyhouse but that is an oc sharing website and not much of an art sharing website.

I really do hope Tumblr doesn't go down, this is my one social media and if it does go down I am going to lose nearly all of my audience. I can make do by creating a personal blog and using whatever I have left in terms of "can post my art there and people can find me", and it won't discourage me from making my personal projects. I can make do, and I will make do, but I don't really want to make do.

Anyways, that's all I have to say right now, I'll make a post later once I set up some alternative sites to find me at, but for now I want to give the heads up that if I'm gone, you're not gonna find me on twitter, Instagram, or whatever third option there is. I'm likely going to just make do, be offline more, and likely just become active on the discord servers I'm on.

[bookhighlightss]

Okay!! Um!! He's technically supposed to kill you!! Why are you finding your future boyfriend's father hot!! I mean I don't blame you!! You're just a girl🎀

[flyingraijinguy]

"Whispers of the Death Note: Tales from the Shadows."

“The Death Note Curse: When Power Leads to Tragedy ”💀✍️

I’ve been fascinated by *Death Note* for as long as I can remember. Not just because of the idea of wielding life and death in your hands, but because of the eerie *inevitability* of it all. Everyone who uses the Death Note… is doomed. It’s like the moment they touch it, their fates are sealed, spiraling into tragedy. This is something that’s haunted me, especially when I think about how the show makes it seem like power is never as liberating as it appears.

So, I started to dig deeper into what I call "The Death Note Curse." Every user meets a tragic end. Let me walk you through the fates of some of our favorite characters.

*Light Yagami: The Fall of a God*

Light Yagami was a genius, no doubt. At first, he used the Death Note with such cold precision. It was terrifying to watch him grow more detached from humanity, inching closer to his god complex. But Ryuk always warned him: “I will be the one to write your name in the Death Note.”

> ***Betrayed, exposed, and bleeding out in that cold, desolate warehouse... That moment still chills me.*** Light’s death wasn’t just physical—it was psychological. The worst part was, as he lay there, gasping for air, his mind seemed to go back to simpler times, like some kind of cruel irony. He wasn’t the god he thought he was. Just a scared, broken human in the end.

**That’s the real curse, isn’t it? Light’s ultimate tragedy wasn’t just death—it was the loss of everything he thought he stood for.**

### **L: The Puppet Cut Loose**

Then there’s L. He was supposed to be untouchable, right? His mind was a fortress, his reasoning flawless, but even he couldn’t escape the inevitable. His death was so sudden, so quiet.

> ***As L fell from his chair, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of horror. There were no final words, no grand revelations—just eerie silence.***

> It wasn’t just the end of L’s life, but the end of everything he fought for. The curse didn’t just claim his body—it took his brilliance, his purpose.

The moment his eyes closed, the curse had won. It didn’t matter how smart he was—he was doomed from the moment he challenged the Death Note.

### **Misa Amane: The Puppet With Cut Strings**

Misa’s story, though, always hit me differently. She wasn’t like Light or L. She didn’t crave power the same way, but she still got pulled into the Death Note’s curse. I can’t shake the image of her standing at the edge of that tower, her face smeared with black kajal, her eyes empty.

> ***Misa wasn’t jumping to escape—she was already dead long before her body hit the ground.***

> The moment Light died, Misa’s purpose crumbled. She had nothing left but the haunting void. **The curse took her, not through the Death Note directly, but by slowly draining her of the will to live.**

Her fate might have been quieter than Light’s, but it was just as devastating.

### **Ryuk: The Observer Who Feeds on Death**

Then there’s Ryuk. The silent observer, always lurking. He warned Light from the start, didn’t he? “No one who writes in the Death Note escapes the curse.” He smirked as if it was all a game to him, but now I wonder… is Ryuk cursed too? Is that why he was so fascinated by human tragedy?

> ***Ryuk, more than anyone, understood the curse. Maybe that’s why he never intervened.*** He was bound to it, watching, waiting, until the final page was turned.

You know, *Death Note* has always been about more than just power or justice. It’s about the cost of wielding something that no one should control. **The Death Note doesn’t kill you in one swift stroke. It pulls you into darkness, takes everything from you, and when it’s ready… it finishes you off.**

“The last name it writes will always be your own.”

> ***And now the question lingers…***

“If you had the Death Note in your hands, would you dare to use it. Or would you too fall victim to the curse that claimed them all”

[desireeyvonnexo]

It’s soo hard to remain genuine when I’m always getting fucked over 🫠

[battle-subway-ghost]

Unraveling.

// Please read the tags beforehand, <3

Paris leaned against the tree trunk, making a desperate attempt at catching his breath. He had been running for- He didn't know, probably hours? He checked the time with his phone, but it still read 3:27 A.M. Same as it had been for probably hours- He didn't know. he couldn't tell… He checked the battery icon at the top- it was nearly dead. The signal may have read "SOS," but he had already tried multiple times to call for help. Nothing.

He wasn't about to try again- Something about the definition of insanity… and instead he put his phone back into his pocket, properly shutting it off to try to conserve what little battery was left. Paris had the urge to sit down for a little while; the muscles on his legs burned, and he was completely exhausted from running for so long. Stupid choice- he knew it wasn't a good idea to run around in the fog like a headless Torchic while he was already lost, but every time he considered standing still and waiting for this stupid, stupid fog to fade, he thought back to…

That. He shuddered, trying to focus on anything else besides that voice- his own voice, feeling a familiar chill crawl up his spine as he started to grow tense again. He could just imagine approaching footsteps- those hollow eyes, the-

He felt something seeping onto his hand, and cried out in surprise as he immediately moved away from the tree, trying to shake off the…

Black ink. Leaking out from the tree like sap. Paris stared at his hand, feeling his head pound at the sight of the stuff… He did his best to wipe it off of his hand, though he didn't have much besides his own clothes to do so. Still- it was better than nothing, at this point.

…He wasted no time getting on the move again, wandering further into the fog, trying to listen closely for any odd noises or disturbances. He couldn't trust his eyes anymore, as the fog had grown so thick that he could barely see past the length of his arm. Paris tread carefully, avoiding tripping on any loose roots or branches on the forest floor. How big was this forest, anyways? Surely he would've found his way out by now.

Then again, this wasn't the same place he had entered however long ago now. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew. He just had to keep walking now, he wasn't even sure if this would get him out, but he couldn't stay still. Not right now.

Paris stopped in his tracks as he heard a twig snap to his left. He turned immediately, nearly giving himself whiplash with how quickly he moved. He instinctively backed away, already tensing up to run-

And there it was.

A Thievul. the Thievul. That damned thing, staring back at him with those hollow, white eyes.

At last.

Paris charged at him, pursuing him as he turned tail and fled. The Thievul was swift, but he was determined to catch him, maybe if he did, it'd put an end to this torment. He wove through the trees with a precision Paris couldn't quite match, as he seemed to blend in with the fog at times- like he was about to fade into it. Paris pressed on, despite the burning in his lungs and the stiffness in his legs.

He finally got close enough to where he could tackle that thing, grabbing him with his hands-

Only to grasp at nothing but air.

Paris hit the ground, falling face first into the dew-covered grass. It took him a moment to recoup and process what happened, as he scrambled to get up, looking around for the Thievul. He was nowhere to be found, as if he vanished into thin air. The fog was starting to clear up a bit, and from what Paris could tell, he had been lead to a clearing in the woods.

He was fuming. He had gone here for nothing! Nothing at all! Revenge- Or even just closure, simply gone! Like that! No fanfare- no anything.

He yanked at his hair, yelling out of pure rage. Rage at the thievul, at himself for allowing it to escape, frustration over this entire stupid situation and this stupid fog and this stupid forest and EVERYTHING-

He stopped after a few moments passed, and finally opening his eyes, watery from the threat of crying. He looked up, seeing- black… patches? He blinked a few times, trying to clear up the blurriness in his eyes. Surely-

No. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The fog had receeded at an unnaturally fast rate, but… There was darkness. the inky-black dark of the ink, starting to spread through tears in the scenery, almost. He could feel the panic building in his chest, attempting to run the other way, only to find that the ground underneath him was starting to fade into the same black ink that was beginning to surround him. Paris screamed, trying to pull himself out, only to find that every time he put his foot down he simply got dragged deeper into the inky abyss. He could feel the substance clinging to his skin, unnaturally warm, almost pulsating… like breathing-

Something painful tugged against him, finally prompting him to glance down. his arms- the muscles were starting to twitch and twist unnaturally, his skin shifting around to compensate for the changes underneath. It was agonizing, muscles beginning to stretch and tear, before attempting to mend themselves again.

He howled in agony, nearly collapsing into the ink entirely, barely able to steady himself. it burned. His right arm in particular was getting the worst of it, the sensation similar to what he imagined it'd feel like having your arm ripped off.

…And much to his horror, it was actually hanging loose when he checked. the skin peeled away like wet cardstock paper, revealing red thread coiling around the remnants of the arm, as well torn ligaments and muscles trying to keep everything together- to no avail. It broke apart entirely, and fell into the ink below, slowly sinking down. There was no blood, instead, frayed and torn red thread hung down from what was left.

Paris collapsed- finally, into the ink. It was a miracle he had even been able to stay standing for so long, given that it seemed like he could fall apart like bad paper mache at any second now. He sputtered and coughed as he accidentally breathed in the ink, trying to pull his head back up. He couldn't breathe- it clung to him like tar, pulling him down further- further into the abyss.

Everything was falling apart. the trees falling apart like flayed seams- unraveling before his eyes, leaving nothing behind besides the pitch black abyss.

His head finally sank underneath. The last thing he saw was the bright red string- cutting through the dark abyss as it drifted upwards.

He shut his eyes, and the searing pain melted away.

Silence, at last.

[fix-me-sixteen]

SUNRISE ON THE REAPING HAYMITCH PERSPECTIVE CONFIRMED????