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2026-01-26 10:27:51

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naik gunung ngajarin kita kalau apapun yang terjadi, kita tetap lah satu keutuhan #filmpetakagunungwelirang #filmhororindonesia #filmhoror #petakagunungwelirang

naik gunung ngajarin kita kalau apapun yang terjadi, kita tetap lah satu keutuhan #filmpetakagunungwelirang #filmhororindonesia #filmhoror #petakagunungwelirang

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Chance and ITrapped Talk! (Crazed Chance AU Video) #forsaken #robloxforsaken #forsakenroblox For those who read the description, here is a rewrite of a zero sanity ITrapped fanfiction I originally made in response to a Tumblr anon ask. Content warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of psychological and physical abuse It was another day in the mansion. Another day ever since the gambler had fallen into madness. Chance had buried themselves into a hole so deep that they didn't even think about escaping it—because why would he? The bottom had rewarded him with two precious treasures: one to cherish, and another to torment, all out of his twisted perception of love. However, on this specific day, it was quiet—apart from the rhythmic ringing of a coin. Chance sat cross-legged atop his couch, having all the time in the world to simply bathe in his mind. They didn't even look at the coin's results each time; no longer did he want to see the truth. He only listened to it—no, merely heard it. Until that trance was suddenly broken by a weak croak of a voice. “Chance…” The gambler's eyes immediately locked onto the source. It was ITrapped—the real one—groveling at their feet. His blonde hair had obscured most of his face, but not enough to hide the tears that continued to flow down his cheeks. The almost-royal nature of his appearance—the icy crown, the striped suit, the swept bangs—made the display even more ironic. Beyond their shades, Chance’s sunken eyes narrowed. “Eh? What is it, Traps?’ “I- I…” ITrapped stammered, his once confident tone now trembling and small. “I'm tired.” Complete silence filled the room. He continued. “Tired of eating off of the floor… tired of being hit…” The hacker finally looked up at his captor, and not even the fragile attempt at anonymity could mask his utterly miserable expression. “I know what I did… was wrong…” Chance raised a brow, sneering. “And what did ya do, Traps?” Their voice bordered between casual and stern. “Tell me, what did you do?” ITrapped let out a shivering sigh. Not out of frustration, but resignation, “I… I lied to you… And… tried to kill you. And… acted like a…” “-Acted like a what?” “Acted like a cunt.” ITrapped confessed bluntly, far too familiar with the many insults thrown his way throughout the weeks. He knew Chance's favorite. Coin frozen between their fingers, the gambler gripped the armrest with his free hand. They remembered everything so clearly: the snow, the betrayal, the Darkheart. The memories were permanently etched into his skin, in the literal sense. ITrapped noticed this and only shrunk further, slamming his head against the carpet again. “I won't be out of line ever again! I won't mock you ever again! Just please… s- spare me…” Chance stared at the defeated man for a few moments, then laughed, “I was right! People like ya really CAN change! Who woulda thought that all a traitor needed was a month of reunion?” he chuckled, nothing short of genuinely amused. “I'm glad ya finally understand. C'mon, sit with me, will ya?” ITrapped nodded, not hesitating to crawl onto the couch and rest his head on their lap. He didn't resist as they ran their fingers through his hair—not like he could anyways, with his arms bound tightly against his back. He stared blankly ahead. There was nothing else to do beyond that, after all.

Chance and ITrapped Talk! (Crazed Chance AU Video) #forsaken #robloxforsaken #forsakenroblox For those who read the description, here is a rewrite of a zero sanity ITrapped fanfiction I originally made in response to a Tumblr anon ask. Content warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of psychological and physical abuse It was another day in the mansion. Another day ever since the gambler had fallen into madness. Chance had buried themselves into a hole so deep that they didn't even think about escaping it—because why would he? The bottom had rewarded him with two precious treasures: one to cherish, and another to torment, all out of his twisted perception of love. However, on this specific day, it was quiet—apart from the rhythmic ringing of a coin. Chance sat cross-legged atop his couch, having all the time in the world to simply bathe in his mind. They didn't even look at the coin's results each time; no longer did he want to see the truth. He only listened to it—no, merely heard it. Until that trance was suddenly broken by a weak croak of a voice. “Chance…” The gambler's eyes immediately locked onto the source. It was ITrapped—the real one—groveling at their feet. His blonde hair had obscured most of his face, but not enough to hide the tears that continued to flow down his cheeks. The almost-royal nature of his appearance—the icy crown, the striped suit, the swept bangs—made the display even more ironic. Beyond their shades, Chance’s sunken eyes narrowed. “Eh? What is it, Traps?’ “I- I…” ITrapped stammered, his once confident tone now trembling and small. “I'm tired.” Complete silence filled the room. He continued. “Tired of eating off of the floor… tired of being hit…” The hacker finally looked up at his captor, and not even the fragile attempt at anonymity could mask his utterly miserable expression. “I know what I did… was wrong…” Chance raised a brow, sneering. “And what did ya do, Traps?” Their voice bordered between casual and stern. “Tell me, what did you do?” ITrapped let out a shivering sigh. Not out of frustration, but resignation, “I… I lied to you… And… tried to kill you. And… acted like a…” “-Acted like a what?” “Acted like a cunt.” ITrapped confessed bluntly, far too familiar with the many insults thrown his way throughout the weeks. He knew Chance's favorite. Coin frozen between their fingers, the gambler gripped the armrest with his free hand. They remembered everything so clearly: the snow, the betrayal, the Darkheart. The memories were permanently etched into his skin, in the literal sense. ITrapped noticed this and only shrunk further, slamming his head against the carpet again. “I won't be out of line ever again! I won't mock you ever again! Just please… s- spare me…” Chance stared at the defeated man for a few moments, then laughed, “I was right! People like ya really CAN change! Who woulda thought that all a traitor needed was a month of reunion?” he chuckled, nothing short of genuinely amused. “I'm glad ya finally understand. C'mon, sit with me, will ya?” ITrapped nodded, not hesitating to crawl onto the couch and rest his head on their lap. He didn't resist as they ran their fingers through his hair—not like he could anyways, with his arms bound tightly against his back. He stared blankly ahead. There was nothing else to do beyond that, after all.

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