S

CHANDLER

eyes move to her,      and he’s giving her this look like he doesn’t even have a     CLUE     what she means.      (     which could be true.     this is possibly the most stress he’s ever been put under     IN HIS LIFE,      and if there were,     perhaps,     an effect on his comprehension skills,      it’d be at the very least highly probable.     )

        as if it weren’t already bad enough,      they start     MOVING.      he can feel her doing it,     pushing them both back and forth.     “     okay,     okay,     okay,     okay     !!     “     his voice increases in pitch with every word.     “     that looks very hot down there,      do you know that      ?       like,     face-melting-and-skin-oozing hot     and i am not in a rush to get acquainted with all of that      !     “

he doesn’t expect her to stop.      really,      he’s just talking to keep his mind off things,     like the way some sweat from his chin has dripped down into his eyes and the way the rope is stinging into his forearms.       he swallows as they pick up the motion.     maybe this isn’t the time to be    OVERLY CRITICAL     “      i have undeniable trust in you,      i hope you know that.      “      the slight wavering in his voice might tell a different story,      but he’s hoping with everything else going on,     that’ll be the least of her focuses. 

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CONT.     from     here      /     @dangeress.

                𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. She can feel Chandler’s heart beating through his skin, bone and clothes, a sure reminder that it was not just her life at stake here. Not only does she have to be HER OWN HERO, but now, his too. What exactly her plan is here, with the whole swinging thing isn’t set in stone. Her eyes dart from woozy corner to corner, demanding focus that the blood rushing to her head either inhibits or helps… she can’t quite tell. The only plus side to this is that when those skeevs in rubber masks hung them out to dry, they’d had no idea who they were messing with. 

The key to escape was timing. One second off, and the both of them would topple down into a vat of skin-blistering, hair-melting, bone-frying acid. This had to be PERFECT

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And it had to be quick. Okay doke, easy enough. “ If you believe in God, Chandler… I’d start praying right about now. The rag flopped down Daphne’s chin, free at last. Wetting her lips, she began the skin-grating process of wresting a hand free.  I need you to reach into the pocket of my dress. By my butt. Get my nail file out of there and hand it to me. Chandler? Chandler, CAN YOU DO THAT? ” 

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