#Portable Monitor for Phone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

secret-subject · 1 month ago

Text

Equipment for audios?

Oh yea here we are at the nerdy side of hypnokink, I'm a total mic nerd and I am always getting asked, what equipment do I use for recording?

For different things (spoken word, music, asmr etc etc) you need different set ups but generally...

I have a zoom f3 which I plug into it either a matched pair of clippy ems mics for asmr or my rode nt1 5th gen for basic hypnosis audios. This is a portable recorder with 32 bit float and automatically sets the gain for you so no clipping! The reason I much prefer a portable recorder is two things. One versatility, they can be used stand alone or plugged into a pc for a handy interface so you have options. Two, if you (like me) dabble in asmr content you need the LEAST amount of background noise possible and most computers are loud. Yes, even the quiet ones trust me I've spent five years trying to have a quiet pc, going portable so I can turn off my pc and use my phone (or my brain) for the words to record is a lot easier and wayyyy less noise.

Now the zoom f3 is a little pricey and not very beginner friendly (it is what they call in the biz prosummer level gear) so here are some other portable recorders I have tried that I like for people on a budget/more beginner friendly:

-zoom h3: this is a binaural/ambisonic portable microphone and it not only as my seal of approval but some of my asmr girlies as well use this mic in their content, so you know it's good.

-tascam dr-05x: this little portable recorder is so good I regularly use it in recordings, the only downside is you NEED a windshield on it because it is that sensitive of a mic. It also has a little bit of a high level of self noise but with some cleaning this is an easy fix.

-zoom h4n pro: this is a little wild card but it was my first portable recorder. While the tascam absolutely blew this one out of the water for me personally, I do like that this recorder also has two xlr ports on bottom as well as binaural mics so it gives you a lot of options in one device. The only downside is I just didn't find the sound quality of the onboard mics to be that special with my voice and sometimes the self noise was a little much.

Now let's chat microphones!

Are they even that important? Yes. There are so many times I settle down to listen to some audio hypnosis of an evening and the second I hear the quality of the audio I am put off and a lot of the time, it's your mic or mic settings. Now yes, I am a snob about these things but here are so tips for getting a mic that works for you.

Firstly, usb or xlr mic?

Usb: these mics are designed to be plug and play. They connect right into your pc and you don't need any extra gear to run them. The downside? Usually this ease of use comes with the cost of quality, both in mic build and quality of recording. You need a pc to run them which means, noise. Also, sometimes it's hard to monitor the audio on these mics (monitoring meaning having headphones to hear what you sound like in the mic, EXTREMELY important to listen for clipping, unwanted sounds etc.)

Xlr: these mics are your standard mics, they are plugged into an audio interface or mixing board via an xlr cable. They usually give you a lot more range and choice of mic and are easy to find high quality ones at even low price points. Downside? The start up cost is higher because you NEED that interface to plug it into but because of that you can also get this mic as far away from noisy things like your pc as possible because of how it's set up with the cables. You also have a lot to do a lot of set up and cable management so if space or portability is important you should probably get a USB or portable recorder instead.

Which one do I recommend?

I have both in the same mic. My go to beginner mic is the rode nt1 5th gen. This mic not only comes with everything you need in box (pop filter, shock mount, xlr and USB cables) but it is BOTH xlr and USB. So I would personally if I could only have one mic, get this and use it USB style until I could upgrade to an interface. Now if you have a lot of background noise this isn't the mic for you. But, check out the rode podmic xlr/USB instead. It is a dynamic mic so terrible for picking up quiet sounds but it will give you a TON of great back ground noise rejection plus a great sound quality.

If you are not ready for a stand alone mic, do not panic here's how you record stunning audios without a proper mic. Use your phone. I am deadly serious your phone has one of the BEST mics on it. Most smartphones have decent sound built in. All you have to do is make sure you position it correctly as far or close to your mouth as sounds good for your phone. Do a few test recordings on your voice recording app to see what works then, put the phone in a sock so you just cover the mic. This is your free pop filter/windshield. It will catch some of those plosives (words with a p, b, or d, sound will make a popping noise that cannot be edited out so the sock will help soften that a little plus remove the crackle of air from your breathing into the mic).

Whatever you do, do not use a headset mic. Most of them are trash. Yes that includes gamer ones, yes that also includes office ones too. Even the expensive ones. If you are spending money to get a mic, get a proper mic. Please also, do not use laptop mics. They are usually also pretty awful, your better off trying the phone.

Finally some quick advice for people wanting to get into this. I've had people literally tell me, "Secret, I don't care what you think about mics and your trial and error, I'm just going to buy the most expensive mic I can find because it has to be the best!" Expensive does not mean good for you. I have mics in my locker that cost hundreds, I have a couple special purchases that set me back thousands and every single time I find myself recording on my very cheap gear because it sounds better. My 3dio pro is collecting dust because that 5k (I live in nz and it cost a TON in shipping) mic doesn't sound half as good as the 100 nzd clippies I got on a whim and am OBSESSED with. Your voice is unique to you. It has frequencies and nuances that will not sound amazing on every mic. The mic that fits your voice and makes it shine might not be that 10k Neumann U87 (although I wish I could try it out one day...) it might be on the much cheaper one you have had for literal years in the back of your closet!

The best comment I ever got was from a friend. I was testing out my beloved rode nt1 and they said to me, "Secret, I don't know what you did with this mic but it makes your voice sound the most powerful it has in years." And that was my goal. This audio I sent them was raw. I did not even have to edit. So please for the love of hypnosis, stick to your budget and do your research. Some places around the world do mic testing and if you can find one, I would suggest it. If you have a friend who has a mic you are thinking of buying, ask to try it. If you find a youtube review of a mic, try and find one with someone with a similar range to your voice to see what it could sound like for you before you purchase and get to know what is important in a mic for you, your voice and your recording situation. The room is just as important as the gear.

Now, can you fix a bad mic in post? Absolutely, there are a ton of things you can do to a recording to make it sound polished in editing but personally, I like a raw, uncut sound to my recordings. It feels a lot more personal and I like that. Plus I am bad at mixing and I hate the sound of my own voice so do not panic if your mic isn't quite what you wanted, you can play around with the eq, compression etc until you get a sound you want (but still please don't blow 10k on a mic first time. It's not worth it.)

Final finally: the person I learned all my mic knowledge from is called Podcastage on YouTube please go check him out. He has incredible resources for finding your perfect mic and reviews on pretty much every mic you can think of. Remember, be resourceful, stick to your budget and think about what you want in a mic before you click buy and happy hunting!

I can't wait to hear what you'll record. 💜

#secret subject #hypnok1nk #hypnosis #audio gear for nerds #yes i said no more headset mics plz #i hope this helps up and coming audio makers because seriously i wish i knew this back in 2017 when i got my blue yeti #dont get a yeti please there are so many better mics out there to start with #hypnotize smarter not harder or something like that i dunno its like 1am when i wrote this

167 notes · View notes

hillbillyoracle · 3 months ago

Text

When cell phones and internet go down...

If you're in one of a myriad of marginalized groups who know they can't count on the government to help them, then this post is for you.

I feel like I'm cramming messages into bottles from my fairly niche interest (radio, emergency comms) and chucking them into the sea of Tumble in the hopes it reaches people it can help. What happened in Spain and Portugal recently and some of the cell outages we've seen in recent years - they're is a great example of why back up communication methods aren't just for doomsday preppers.

If cell phones and internet (and possibly power) went out, how would you communicate in an emergency?

Note: this is geared toward the US. It's where I am and it's all I know.

If I only had ~$25

I'd grab a Beofeng UV-5R ($18-$25) if I thought I might study to get my ham license eventually ($15-$25 test fee + $35 FCC fee),

If I knew I didn't want to test for a ham license and thought I might pay $35 for a GMRS license eventually, I'd pay a little extra up front and get a Beofeng UV-5G plus GMRS radio (~$35)

While this would not allow me to transmit usually, this would allow me to:

call for help in an emergency - the license requirement for transmission is lifted in the event of a genuine emergency

listen to weather frequencies - it will not turn on and give you the alert but if you know bad weather is coming, you can turn it on and listen for alerts as they come in. Weather stations give alerts for a fairly broad area so you'll be able to hear about any significant storms as the move into and through your area.

listen to local repeaters - repeaters, in my experience, are kind of a combination of a megaphone and an internet chat room. You set the frequency and the PL tones (password sounds your radio sends) for the repeater and then you can hear people from much further away. This is one, just fun to listen to on a given day but two, a great way to find out information if your area is experiencing an event but you don't require help. Some even have EAS weather alerts (thought this still won't turn your radio on if it's off in an emergency). Use repeaterbook to look for repeaters in your area and use CHIRP to program them into your radio - tutorials abound.

For ~$15 more you can upgrade the UV-5R to a bigger battery and USB-C charging (UV-5G comes with USB-C charging).

This can be thrown in a go bag if you need to evacuate or your housing is unstable. You can have your handheld radio monitoring a local repeater while you have a car or portable radio listening to commercial or public stations for updates.

If I only had ~$100

I would get a GMRS license ($35) and a Beofeng UV-5G plus (~$35) and a single Meshtastic node (~$25).

If I had a little extra, I'd grab a second Meshtastic node for a roommate, partner, family member or nearby friend.

This would get me the ability to not only monitor frequencies but the ability to talk on them in non-emergency times which would be helpful practice. Some GMRS repeaters have regular "nets" - it's basically a meeting on air where someone invited folks to tell them/radio in their call sign (radio license ID basically) and then they confirm they heard you. This gives you a chance to test your equipment.

The GMRS license covers your family so they can pick up a radio as well and then you'd be able to communicate with them as well (as long as they're close enough; 1-5 miles but varies by terrain, more range if using a repeater). It's not a phone so the conversation would be heard by other people but this is great for wellness checks or a quick check up.

Meshtastics add the ability to text people and share GPS coordinates with people near by - encrypted if you so desire. The range is much less (I've only tested it to about a mile currently though with tweaking more is possible). This adds an important link in your communication plan - asynchronous communication. As long as the device is on and paired and in range, you'll most likely receive a message. It does drop occasionally but that's pretty rare. My nesting partner and I often have to rely on them because the internet and cell signal is so poor up here but they serve us incredibly well for that. Beyond the Emergency Comms use, it's just nice for morale to be able to text during an event. Best part is, if you're in an area were other people have them too, you can bounce your signal further for no additional power.

Past this amount of money, I'd still get my GMRS license and encourage my friends and neighbors who didn't want to study for the ham license to get theirs. Then I'd get my ham license and buy the best handheld I could afford - probably one of the value Yaesu models - so I have several ways to both coordinate among my loved ones and get any needs to a net in the area during a disaster.I'd get and pass out several meshtastic devices to people who were within range that I might want to commincate with. I'd look into back up power for recharging (I like my Jackerys).

Amateur radio is a deep well and this barely touches on it of it. Don't let how vast it is keep you thinking it's too complicated for you. I promise it's not. I'm very much a noob myself but I'm happy answer any questions that I can.

This is part of self care - ensuring you can care for yourself during chaotic events and emergencies to the best of your ability. Even a little bit of preparation can keep something like storm outbreak or power outage from turning harmful or even deadly. Learn what you can. You've got this!

#ham radio #prepping #GMRS #emcomm

110 notes · View notes

camficdiner · 1 month ago

Note

Jack Hughes, you're his rehab doctor, smut to soft, 1,5k words

☕ Cam’s Fic Diner – Order 003

This one came in sticky-sweet and full of tension — just how I like it 😌

Thank you for trusting me with your cravings.

Served warm, slow, and just a little bit dangerous. 💌

-your favorite server

💬 “More Than Muscle Memory”

✨description and prompts

•Character: Jack Hughes

• Prompt you’re his rehab doctor

•Trope: smut\ soft

•WC: ~1500

🛼✨🍒🧁

The hospital is in complete chaos when you start your shift, the dim orange hue of sunset casting long shadows across the white-tiled floors. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and fresh gauze, but there’s something else too—tension.

You walk in wearing your navy scrubs, a coffee in one hand and your tablet in the other, heading straight into the rehab section. You expect the usual quiet buzz, maybe the occasional moan from someone working through pain or a nurse tapping away at her computer.

Instead, you’re greeted by hurried footsteps, clipped voices, and wide eyes.

Weird for this hour.

You catch sight of your intern, Adam, leaning against the desk with his phone in hand, looking more overwhelmed than usual. Kind kid, smart too, but clearly rattled.

“Hey,” you ask, setting your coffee down. “What’s going on? Everyone’s acting like we’ve got a five-alarm emergency.”

Adam glances up at you, his mouth already partway open. He looks like he can’t believe what he’s about to say.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“The NHL superstar Jack Hughes is here,” he blurts. “He went under surgery a couple of hours ago. Shoulder injury. Nasty hit during the game.”

You blink at him, processing.

Jack Hughes. Of course. That name’s impossible to escape—even if you’re not a hockey fan. One of the brightest stars in the league, young, magnetic, constantly under the spotlight. And now… he’s here?

Your thoughts start racing.

“Oh…” you mutter. “That means, when he’s discharged from surgery and cleared, they’ll send him to me for rehab.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“This is going to be a mess.”

Dealing with athletes during post-injury rehab was never easy. Especially not the elite kind. Stubborn, impatient, desperate to get back on the ice before their bodies were ready. You’ve had your fair share of fights trying to keep them from tearing stitches or ignoring pain signals.

“They’re sending him here now,” Adam adds, just as a nurse comes hurrying past, murmuring something into her radio.

Great.

You toss back the last of your coffee and mutter, “Let’s get this over with.”

You don’t expect him to look so… human.

Sure, he’s taller in person than you thought, even slightly slouched in the wheelchair they’ve brought him in with. He’s wearing a loose hoodie, one arm immobilized and strapped tightly to his chest. His cap is pulled down low, but you can still see those unmistakable blue eyes beneath the brim—bloodshot and tired.

He looks at you with the wariness of someone who’s been poked, prodded, and spoken over all day. The kind of fatigue you know too well.

“I’m Dr. Y/L/N,” you say, stepping forward. “I’ll be handling your physical therapy and rehab.”

He gives you a once-over, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t expect rehab to start tonight.”

“It’s just an intake,” you reply coolly. “Vitals, evaluation, and I’ll walk you through the next few weeks. Actual therapy starts once your surgeon clears you post-op. Should be within a few days.”

Jack nods, but you can already sense it—that edge athletes get when they’re out of control. You know he’s already counting down the days until he’s back on the ice.

You guide him into a quiet private room at the end of the hall. Adam follows behind, wheeling the portable monitor and supplies.

“I’ll take it from here,” you tell him. He nods and excuses himself, thankfully.

Once the door shuts behind him, you turn to Jack. He watches you like he’s trying to figure you out.

You pull on gloves and begin the intake, checking vitals, gently inspecting the bruising around his shoulder.

“Any pain right now?” you ask.

He shrugs with his good arm. “Only when I breathe.”

You crack a small smile. “That’s normal post-op. You’ll feel like you’ve been hit by a truck for a couple of days.”

“I was hit by a truck. His name’s Chris,” Jack mutters.

Despite yourself, you laugh.

He glances at you again—longer this time.

“You’re not like the others,” he says suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow. “What others?”

“Everyone else today either stared at me like I’m a zoo animal or didn’t talk to me at all. You’re just… doing your job.”

“Well, that is what I’m paid to do,” you reply, but something about his voice makes your stomach twist. You soften, just a little. “You’ve had a rough day. I’m not gonna add to it.”

Something shifts in him, just barely.

“Thanks.”

You look up and meet his eyes. There’s something there—fatigue, sure, but also warmth. Interest. Curiosity.

You ignore the spark in your chest and keep your voice professional.

“We’ll get started on your initial exercises later this week,” you say. “For now, rest. Let your body recover from the surgery. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

He nods. Then, smirking faintly: “You’ll go easy on me, right?”

“Not a chance.”

[Fast-forward: two weeks later]

Jack’s progress is steady. Too steady. You’ve had to slow him down three times already, and every session ends with some kind of verbal sparring match—him pushing, you holding him back.

But underneath it all, a rhythm is developing.

He flirts. You ignore it. (Mostly.)

He teases. You stay focused. (Barely.)

And when he touches your hand just a second longer than necessary, you pretend not to notice. (But you do.)

It’s subtle, but something’s building.

Until one late afternoon—empty clinic, golden light casting long shadows, just the two of you in the rehab room—things tip.

He’s shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin, chest rising and falling after a tough set of resistance work. You step closer to adjust the band he’s using, and his hand catches your wrist.

You freeze.

“I’m not just imagining this, am I?” he asks quietly.

Your heart stutters.

“This?”

He leans closer, still holding your wrist. “Whatever’s been going on between us.”

You could lie. You should lie.

But you don’t.

“No,” you say, barely a whisper. “You’re not imagining it.”

Jack doesn’t give you much time to second-guess.

He leans in, slow and sure, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. His mouth brushes yours—gentle, almost cautious—and the warmth of it settles deep in your chest.

The kiss grows, unfolding between you like something inevitable.

When his hand slips to the small of your back, you press in instinctively, hands curling at the hem of his sweat-damp shirt. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips—so much muscle, all coiled and tense under your touch. The kind of body sculpted by relentless training and now humbled by injury.

But right now, he’s just Jack.

Not the NHL star. Not the patient.

Just a man kissing you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

He exhales against your lips. “Been thinking about this since the first day.”

You let out a shaky breath. “This is a terrible idea.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “Still want it.”

So do you.

You guide him back gently, your hands on his shoulders, lowering him onto the therapy table—this time not for rehab. He watches you, eyes dark and reverent, as you straddle his lap, careful of his injured shoulder. His good hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek like you’re something delicate.

“You sure?” he asks, even now.

“I’m sure.”

You kiss him again, slower this time. Deeper. His lips part for you, and your tongue brushes his, soft and wet and warm, your bodies shifting in sync. You slide your fingers beneath the waistband of his gym shorts, feeling the sharp intake of his breath.

“God,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re driving me insane.”

“You started it,” you say, a smile playing on your lips as you move down his neck, kissing gently along the column of his throat, tasting salt and skin and adrenaline.

His hand roams your waist, fingertips teasing the hem of your scrubs before slipping beneath. You guide him, helping him undress you with quiet urgency until you’re in nothing but your bra and panties, straddling him with flushed cheeks and wild heartbeat.

He looks up at you like he’s seeing something holy.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful.”

You kiss him harder, swallowing the compliment, needing him closer.

One hand trails down your thigh, then between your legs, testing the softness of your underwear, the damp heat building there. You shiver against his touch, hips rocking into his fingers.

He groans low, like the sound is pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Can I?” he asks, eyes flicking to your underwear, then back to your face.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He slips them to the side and slides a finger through your folds, slow and exploratory, learning your body by feel. You moan softly, fingers tightening in his hair.

“You’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint.

You reach for him next, hand slipping into his shorts, wrapping around him—hard and hot and pulsing in your palm. He exhales a curse against your collarbone, thrusting into your grip.

“Condom?” you ask breathlessly.

He nods, fumbling one out of the small zipper pouch in his gym bag on the nearby chair—blushing slightly, despite everything.

“You came prepared?” you tease.

“Hopeful,” he says, grinning through a nervous laugh.

You help him roll it on with shaking hands, then position yourself over him. His hands steady your hips as you sink down, inch by inch, taking him inside slowly, carefully—he’s thick, the stretch making your thighs tremble.

Jack’s jaw clenches, breath leaving him in a rush. “Jesus. You feel incredible.”

You ride him slowly at first, your bodies slotting together like you were always meant to fit. He moves his good hand from your hip to your waist, pulling you down to kiss you again—messy and open-mouthed, lips dragging along yours as your rhythm builds.

His injured shoulder stays cradled to his chest, but it doesn’t matter. The rest of him is focused, strong, devoted entirely to the way you move on top of him.

It’s not just sex.

It’s connection.

The way his eyes never leave yours.

The way he whispers your name like a prayer.

The way he kisses your jaw every time your hips roll down just right.

You feel the orgasm creeping in like a tide—warm and slow and overwhelming.

“I’m close,” you whisper, forehead against his.

“Let go,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

And you do.

You fall apart around him with a soft cry, your body tightening as pleasure spills over you. Jack holds you through it, murmuring praises into your skin until he follows with a gasp, hips stuttering as he comes inside you, fingers digging into your waist.

For a long time, there’s only the sound of your breath.

You rest your head on his shoulder, mindful of his injury. He wraps his arm around your back, palm splayed wide.

Eventually, he speaks.

“Okay,” he says, voice light but sincere, “that was way better than any of the rehab I’ve done here.”

You laugh against his skin, still catching your breath. “You’re gonna have to keep this injury a little longer, huh?”

He kisses your forehead. “Only if it means more of… this.”

You hum softly, unsure where this is going—but somehow okay with that.

Because whatever this is…

It’s real.

And it’s just getting started.

Thanks for stopping by the counter 💌

If the story hit the spot, the tip jar’s by the register →

ko-fi.com/camficdiner 🍒

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jh86 imagine #jh86 x reader #jh86 #jack hughes fic #camficdiner

65 notes · View notes

kk095 · 3 months ago

Text

Renee’s Respiratory Distress

It’s a slow weekday in our emergency department just around lunchtime. The ER is relatively quiet, and most of the trauma bays and exam rooms are open. Our team chats casually amongst themselves, sipping coffee, reviewing charts, and checking their phones.

The calm is interrupted when the automatic doors slide open, EMS wheeling in a stretcher. Dr Lindsay’s head snaps up at the sudden motion, her easy conversation with Nurse Nancy cut short. On the gurney sits a barefoot woman in loose black slacks, her blouse removed in the ambulance. EKG electrodes dot her fair skinned chest, wires trailing from the portable monitor. The woman is gasping, her lips tinged faintly blue. Her straight, shoulder length red hair is a tangled mess, strands clinging to the sweat on her temples. Sharp, bright blue eyes flick frantically between the faces around her, wide with terror and uncertainty. There’s a slight crease between her brows, as if she’s trying to keep control but failing. The paramedic at her side keeps a firm grip on her trembling shoulder.

Nancy is already moving, stepping toward the stretcher. “What do we got?” Lindsay asks, following Nancy, voice stern but professional. The lead EMT fires off a rapid report as they push through the hallway: “This is Renee. 38 year old female, sudden onset of severe shortness of breath and chest pain at work. Hypoxic, tachycardic, hypotensive. Maybe a PE? No signs of trauma. No history of asthma or respiratory issues.”

In a breathy, winded tone, Renee speaks. “I… c-can’t… breathe…” she struggles tremendously to get each word out. Nancy places a steadying hand on Renee’s shoulder. “You’re okay, hunny. We’ve got you. We’re gonna take a good look at you, ok?” Nancy reassures. “it… it… hurts… w-when… I… breathe…” Renee tries to respond, barely getting enough air. “it’s ok sweetie, we’re gonna make you feel better.” Nancy soothes.

Once Renee is wheeled into trauma one, Dr Sarah and Nurse Heather follow close behind. Monitors beep incessantly as the team transfers the redheaded woman from the EMS gurney onto the trauma room table. Nancy moves quickly but gently, adjusting the oxygen mask and checking the IV lines already in place.

The 38 year old sits upright on the trauma room table, her chest rising and falling quickly, taking shallow, uneven gasps. Her anxiety is visible, her blue eyes darting around the room. Dr Lindsay steps in first. “Renee, I’m Dr Lindsay. You’re in the ER. Can you tell me what’s going on?” asks the doctor. Renee shakes her head weakly, her chest heaving. She grips tightly at her sternum, fingers pressing against her ribs as if trying to hold herself together. “W-what’s… happening… to… me?…” she mumbles, the words barely escaping her lips. “You’re safe, hun. We’re figuring this out, okay?” Nurse Nancy intervenes.

Dr Sarah and Nurse Heather work in tandem. A d-dimer is drawn for clot detection. An ABG is taken to better check the patient’s oxygen saturation. A bolus of IV fluids are started to counteract her hypotension. A portable echocardiogram is performed by Dr Sarah, which displays evidence of right heart strain.

Even after these interventions and tests, Renee’s heart rate is climbing into the 150s, her systolic BP is in the 80s, and her O2 saturation is in the 70s.

Renee sucks in another dramatic, broken breath, her hand weakly grasping Nancy’s scrub sleeve. Her fingertips are cold and clammy. “my… my… chest…” she gasps, feeling as if there are a million tiny, razor sharp bits of glass inside her lungs. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re doing great. Just focus on breathing, okay?” Nancy tightens her grip on the patient’s hand. Renee’s eyes flicker to the monitor, taking in the blaring alarms and the flashing red numbers. She knows something’s wrong. Her gaze shifts to Lindsay, pleading silently for reassurance. “We’ve got you, Renee, you’re doing good.” Lindsay tells her. But behind Dr Lindsay’s composed face is a subtle sense of worry, and Renee picks up on it.

Over the coming minutes, Renee starts experiencing rapid, terrifying deterioration in quick succession. Initially, her heart rate spikes significantly, shooting into the 160s as her body struggles with severe respiratory distress. She gasps desperately for breath, struggling to draw in air, as her lungs and heart begin to fail under the weight of whatever’s happening to her body. It’s almost suffocating. Renee’s breathing becomes more and more labored and erratic, the sound of agonal gasps filling the room. Her chest heaves violently with each frantic gasp, but each inhalation is shallow and desperate. Her skin becomes pale, lips bluish, and there’s an almost grayish hue around her face as hypoxia sets in. This isn’t just the cold medical stuff, it’s visually disturbing to the staff and to the patient herself, who is acutely aware of her body failing on her. Her heart rate spikes dramatically- 160s, 170s, 170s, and the EKG starts to show signs of v-tach.

Despite the chaos, Renee’s mental clarity remains fully intact as she slowly realizes that something much more serious is happening to her. She’s not just experiencing a panic attack. She’s aware that she’s rapidly losing control. She gasps in a panicked voice, choking on her breaths: “Am… I… dying…?” Her voice is frantic, each word more strained than the last. There’s no crying, but her face is contorted in terror, her eyes wide and glassy. Her hands clutch the edge of the table in a desperate bid to hang on. “we’re gonna make sure that doesn’t happen hunny. Just try to relax for me and take slow, deep breaths, ok?” Nancy answers.

Our team’s urgency builds as her condition continues to deteriorate. While they’re still moving with clinical precision, the panic is very palpable. Nancy, despite the mounting tension, tries to keep the redheaded woman calm with quiet, reassuring words: “You’re going to be ok, Renee. Just stay with me, ok?” But even Nancy’s voice wavers as the minutes tick by, and it’s clear that things are slipping away.

In the coming minutes, Renee’s eyes widen In pure terror, as if understanding that the end is near. Her body quivers for a moment- one last desperate attempt to breathe. Then, her body goes limp, her eyes flicker once more before glazing over. A moment of silence hangs in the air as the team processes the sudden, brutal reality: she’s in pulseless v-tach!

The room erupts into a flurry of motion, but there’s an undercurrent of precision and expertise to every action. Dr Lindsay stands at the end of the bed, her hands steady despite the growing urgency. “Vitals are crashing, let’s move fast. Heather, on her chest, let’s go!” Lindsay commands. Nurse Heather lowers the table and gets on the patient’s chest, beginning compressions, her hands pressing down hard and fast on Renee’s sternum. Dr Lindsay looks at the monitor, confirming v-tach. “Hey Linds, I need to intubate now. 7.0 ET please.” Informs Dr Sarah. Sarah wastes no time. She stands at the head of the bed, positioning the intubation tube with practiced ease, and quickly slides it into the redhead’s airway, securing it with some surgical tape. Nurse Nancy connects the ambu bag, squeezing much needed oxygen into Renee’s lungs. Lindsay turns to Dr Sarah, who is putting the defib pads on her chest. “Let’s go with epi first. 1 mg IV push.” Dr Lindsay orders. Sarah administers the meds intravenously while Heather pumps away at Renee’s bare, skinny chest. The redhead’s chest caves in, her belly ripples out from the force of Heather’s chest compressions.

After a minute or so, the patient remains in pulseless v-tach despite intubation, 1mg epi, and a few CPR cycles. Lindsay decides it’s a good time to shock Renee. “ok, let’s charge to 200. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Lindsay calls out. KA-THUNK!!! There’s a pause after the shock, and all eyes are on the monitor, hoping and praying for ROSC. “No change. Resume compressions, Heather. Sarah, push 300 mg of amiodarone.” Orders Dr Lindsay. Another round of epinephrine is administered in swift silence. Heather completes two cycles of compressions after the second dose of epi is administered. At that point, the defibrillator charges again, the team holding their breath as they await the jolt. “Ok, recharging to 300. Everyone… CLEAR!” Barks Dr Lindsay. The electricity rips through Renee’s petite body, her chest heaving with the force of it. The monitor briefly catches a moment of regular rhythm, only for it to plummet into v-fib. “Crap! She’s in v-fib. Let’s push another milligram of epi, then shock again.” Dr Lindsay says, her tone a mix of frustration and determination. The team is relentless. Dr Sarah prepares the IV meds, while Dr Lindsay keeps a watchful eye on the monitor. The drugs flow through Renee’s veins, but still, the monitor remains unforgiving. “Ok, meds in. Let’s shock again at 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” The defibrillator charges for the third time, and the cute redhead’s body tenses up again, shoulders shrugging forward, eyes wide open, but the result is the same: nothing. Lindsay sighs following the shock. “She’s not responding. Let’s go for another 150 milligrams of amiodarone and shock her at 360.”

The next amiodarone dose is halved, and Dr Sarah administers the medication with a calmness that contrasts the panic in the room. The defibrillator makes a rising, high pitched hum as it charges, and once again, sends a quick jolt through Renee’s chest. Her hands make loose fists, and the upper half of her body shivers for a second or two. Nothing. The 38 year old’s heart doesn’t budge. “Still nothing. We’re not giving up.” Dr Lindsay directs Nurse Nancy to ensure the ambu bag is being squeezed at full capacity. Heather resumes chest compressions. The team remains laser focused, and administers another 360 joule shock when Heather finishes her cycle of CPR. The jolt, more violent than the others, leaves the room holding its breath. Renee’s feet kick up at the far end of the table, slamming back down hard half a second later, showing off the soft, smooth soles of her size 6 feet. Even after this shock, v-fib persists.

The team continues their efforts, almost on autopilot at this point. CPR, ambu bagging, and another 1mg push of epi, but v-fib remains. Lindsay then orders the team to shock the patient for a sixth time. “Charging to 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” Lindsay calls out. Renee’s chest shoots up, her back arches dramatically, and her body plops back down on the table ungracefully a second later. All eyes shift back to the monitors. “Still in v-fib, Linds.” Sarah shakes her head.

Dr Lindsay takes a breath, steps back, folding her arms, looking at the team, her face unreadable. “She’s in refractory v-fib, we’re gonna have to call time of death.” Lindsay explains to the team, succinct and to the point. “heather, hold compressions.” Lindsay continues. Heather stops, and steps back from the table, away from the patient. Nancy detaches the ambu bag from the ET tube, a small amount of air hissing out. “Alright. Time of death, 12:37pm.” Announces Lindsay, her bluish gray eyes looking at the clock in the lefthand corner of the room, pulling off the latex gloves on her hands.

The room becomes eerily quiet, the frantic chaos of the code blue replaced by an unsettling calm. Dr Lindsay stands back, looking down at Renee, her eyes still WIDE open and unblinking, face still pale and distorted in terror, detached ET tube sitting between her pale, cyanotic lips. The heart monitor that still displays the jagged waveforms of v-fib is turned off. Nancy stays at the head of the bed, taking a moment to look down at Renee’s face. Her eyes are wide open, frozen in a moment of sheer terror. Nancy swallows, her throat tight, before reaching forward to gently close the redhead’s eyes for the final time. “I’m so sorry, hunny.” Nancy whispers under her breath, her hands lingering just a moment too long.

The rest of the team methodically moves through the motions, detaching the EKG wires and removing the IV lines with almost robotic efficiency. Defibrillator pads are peeled off of Renee’s battered chest, the adhesive strips coming away with a slight tug, leaving a red imprint on her skin where the pads had been.

Dr Lindsay fills out the toe tag, her movements deliberate and almost ritualistic. The tag, printed with Renee’s name, age, and the official time of death, dangles from her left big toe, brushing against the soft, smooth soles of her feet. Nurse Nancy places a sheet over her body, her hands trembling slightly as she covers the redhead’s lifeless form.

Lindsay glances over to Dr Sarah and then to Nurse Heather, the weight of the moment settling into their collective silence. Finally, she turns her attention to Nurse Nancy. “I’m going to request an autopsy.” Lindsay says, her voice clinical but with a slight edge of concern. “We never confirmed the PE. It might help us piece everything together.” Continues Dr Lindsay. Nancy nods silently, her face still pale, her eyes lingering on the covered body. She takes a deep breath and steps back, looking at Renee one last time. “What a shame. She went down so fast…” she mutters, her voice thick with emotion.

The room stands still for a moment, the weight of what just happened hanging heavily in the air. A life taken too soon. A woman who had been alive, pleading for her life just minutes ago, is now toe tagged and under a sheet. A nameless, faceless statistic in a death report. The rest of the team turns and leaves the room, each of them silently processing the brief but intense encounter.

Later on, Renee’s autopsy report and labs came back. It was determined that her cause of death was a massive, acute saddle PE. These types of blood clots can sneak up rather quickly and unexpectedly, leading to a deadly progression of events. When Renee woke up this morning, she never in a million years would’ve expected she’d have her time of death called in our ED. But just like that, Renee became the latest beauty to pass away in our emergency department.

#resus community #resus #resus writing #cpr #cpr female #cpr resus #dark cardiophilia #medfet #defib #defibs

62 notes · View notes

tizzychardia · 28 days ago

Text

This is not an attempt to fear monger, but just simply being realistic.

If you are chronically ill and in Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi. Please, PLEASE do NOT forget to prepare for hurricane season as things are already brewing in the Gulf.

If you struggle with heat intolerance, now is the time to be looking for battery-operated fans for if/when your power goes out. Invest in portable chargers for your health watches/monitors, phones, and alert devices. Make sure that you are stocked up on your medications. Freeze bags of water and keep insulated coolers if you require ice treatment. Stay stocked on safe foods that do not require electricity or refrigeration to consume. If you have access to a generator, get one. Flashlights, battery-operated lamps. If you are in a floodzone, getting a wooden platform made of planks from hardware stores will help keep your electrical mobility aids dry by keeping them elevated above water level. Secure plexiglass or wooden boards to your windows. Stock up on bottled water and any electrolytes you may need. Put anything of value up HIGH. If you are in a mandatory evacuation zone, EVACUATE. It can be a huge struggle, but I promise it's better than the alternative. Do not be stubborn.

Even if you are not in a floodzone, all it takes is one branch or pile of debris to crash through your window - where all the rain will come blowing in.

Sandbags will not stop inches of water. You will still flood if the water level and wind speed are high enough. You can never be too prepared for natural disasters. Last year was a reminder of that.

A lot of individuals are already feeling the effects of hurricane season. Chronic pain, pressure headaches, and exacerbated symptoms due to the air pressure changes and stormy weather. Things are awful - I know - but as someone who's also chronically ill and had to survive through two massive hurricanes last year - you need to be prepared for the worst.

#chronically ill #disabled #chronic illness #pots syndrome #pots #potsawareness #queer and disabled #potsie #actually disabled #disability #chronically fatigued #chronic pain #hurricane #hurricane season #florida #FL #hurricanes #tropical storm

32 notes · View notes

ramblings-in-imagination · 2 months ago

Text

No Answer (Part 2)

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency department, the back doors flying open as the paramedics jumped into action. Hen and Chimney worked quickly to wheel you out, while Eddie and Buck trailed close, both of them white-knuckled and panic-stricken.

“RA118, rolling in!” Hen called out. “27-year-old female, febrile to 104.2, altered mental status, tachycardia at 140, BP 88 over 55, tachypnea at 34. Suspected sepsis, rapid onset.”

The trauma team met them at the bay doors, gloves snapping on as they prepped the trauma room. Dr. Singh, the attending ER physician, stepped forward.

“Okay, let’s get her on the bed: Hen, give me a hand. Chim, what’s her latest set of vitals?”

“Still febrile, unresponsive,” Chimney rattled off. “BP’s dropping—88 over 55 and falling. HR’s 142, sinus tach. O2 sat’s 90 percent on a non-rebreather. IV fluids wide open.”

Dr. Singh nodded. “All right, priority one: airway, breathing, circulation. Let’s get two large-bore IVs, start a second bolus of 500ml normal saline. Draw blood cultures, lactic acid, CBC, CMP, coags. Hang broad-spectrum antibiotics—vancomycin and cefepime. Let’s get a portable chest X-ray and a head CT if there’s any concern for meningitis.”

Hen squeezed Eddie’s shoulder, eyes glassy. “We’ve got her, okay?” she whispered. She’d always seen you like a little sister. The fear on her face was a mirror of the panic in Eddie’s chest.

Buck, his whole body tense—hovered just behind Eddie. “Did she have a cut or scrape or anything?” he demanded, voice tight. “Eddie, did you see anything? Could that have let an infection in?”

Eddie shook his head, voice ragged. “No…nothing that I saw. She was just… tired. She didn’t even recognize me.” His eyes filled with tears.

Bobby’s calm voice cut through the panic. “Hey, both of you listen to me. She’s in the best place possible now. Let them work.”

But Buck’s hands trembled, his eyes locked on the trauma room as they wheeled you in. “She’s my sister, Bobby. I should have…”

“You are here,” Bobby said, steady and calm, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Right now, that’s all you can do. Let the doctors handle the rest.”

Inside the trauma room, the team was a flurry of motion.

“Push another 500ml of saline. Let’s get a norepinephrine drip ready if her BP keeps dropping,” Dr. Singh barked, his tone urgent but composed. “Monitor urine output, we need a Foley catheter in place.”

A nurse worked quickly, catheterizing you while another placed an arterial line for continuous BP monitoring.

“She’s developing mottling in her extremities,” one nurse said, worry in her voice. “Possible septic shock.”

“Give me a stat lactate,” Dr. Singh ordered. “Call Infectious Disease for consult. Start her on vasopressors if systolic drops below 80.”

Chimney, his hands slick with sweat, stepped aside and pulled out his phone. His own heart was pounding, your big sister needed to know. He dialed Maddie’s number with shaking fingers.

“Maddie, it’s me,” he began, voice cracking. “It’s Y/N. She’s really sick, possible sepsis, high fever. They’re working on her now, but you need to get to the hospital.”

On the other end of the line, Maddie’s voice caught. “Oh God. Okay… I’m coming. Tell them I’m on my way.”

Back in the hallway, Buck paced like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair. “Eddie, what if I missed something? What if I didn’t see a cut? I…I should have checked her….”

“Hey, man,” Eddie said, voice tight. “You can’t think like that. She’s strong, okay? She’s gonna fight. She’s my girl, she’s tough.”

Bobby stood between them, his voice a steady anchor. “Buck, you didn’t miss anything. This is just—sometimes, these things happen. The important thing now is that she’s here, and they’re giving her everything they’ve got.”

Inside the trauma room, Dr. Singh’s voice called out again. “BP’s dropping—start norepinephrine at 0.1 mcg/kg/min. Draw repeat blood cultures—lactic acid is 6.5, she’s definitely in septic shock.”

“Airway’s stable,” the respiratory therapist said, adjusting your oxygen mask. “We’re maintaining sat at 94 percent.”

“Keep a close eye on her mentation,” Dr. Singh instructed. “If she doesn’t respond to fluids and vasopressors, we may need to intubate to protect her airway. Let’s keep pushing fluids and get that ID consult rolling.”

Every line, every beep of the monitors was a war drum in Eddie’s chest. He pressed his forehead to the glass window, tears streaming down his face.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “Fight. Just fight for me, okay?”

And even though she couldn’t hear him, he refused to leave that window. Because that’s who Eddie Diaz was a fighter and a protector, even when he felt helpless.

And Buck, his hands still trembling, We’re in this together,” he whispered, voice breaking.

“Always,” Eddie choked out.

And in the chaos of the trauma room, your family; found and blood, held their breath.

#evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x sister! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #evan buckley x female!reader

29 notes · View notes

warningsine · 3 months ago

Note

what is the best way to get safer/more anonymous online

Ok, security and anonymity are not the same thing, but when you combine them you can enhance your online privacy.

My question is: how tech literate are you and what is your aim? As in do you live in a country where your government would benefit from monitoring private (political) conversations or do you just want to degoogle? Because the latter is much easier for the average user.

Some general advice:

Leave Windows and Mac operating systems and switch to Linux distributions like Fedora and Ubuntu (both very user friendly). Switch from Microsoft Office or Pages/Numbers/Keynote (Mac) to LibreOffice.

You want to go more hardcore with a very privacy-focused operating system? There are Whonix and Tails (portable operating system).

Try to replace all your closed source apps with open source ones.

Now, when it comes to browsers, leave Chrome behind. Switch to Firefox (or Firefox Focus if you're on mobile). Want to go a step further? Use LibreWolf (a modified version of Firefox that increases protection against tracking), Brave (good for beginners but it has its controversies), DuckDuckGo or Bromite. You like ecofriendly alternatives? Check Ecosia out.

Are you, like, a journalist or political activist? Then you probably know Tor and other anonymous networks like i2p, freenet, Lokinet, Retroshare, IPFS and GNUnet.

For whistleblowers there are tools like SecureDrop (requires Tor), GlobaLeaks (alternative to SecureDrop), Haven (Android) and OnionShare.

Search engines?

There are Startpage (obtains Google's results but with more privacy), MetaGer (open source), DuckDuckGo (partially open source), Searx (open source). You can see the comparisons here.

Check libRedirect out. It redirects requests from popular socmed websites to privacy friendly frontends.

Alternatives to YouTube that value your privacy? Odysee, PeerTube and DTube.

Decentralized apps and social media? Mastodon (Twitter alternative), Friendica (Facebook alternative), diaspora* (Google+ RIP), PixelFed (Insta alternative), Aether (Reddit alternative).

Messaging?

I know we all use shit like Viber, Messenger, Telegram, Whatsup, Discord etc. but there are:

Signal (feels like Whatsup but it's secure and has end-to-end encryption)

Session (doesn't even require a phone or e-mail address to sign up)

Status (no phone or e-mail address again)

Threema (for mobile)

Delta Chat (you can chat with people if you know their e-mail without them having to use the app)

Team chatting?

Open source options:

Element (an alternative to Discord)

Rocket.chat (good for companies)

Revolt.chat (good for gamers and a good alternative to Discord)

Video/voice messaging?

Brave Talk (the one who creates the talk needs to use the browser but the others can join from any browser)

Jami

Linphone

Jitsi (no account required, video conferencing)

Then for Tor there are various options like Briar (good for activists), Speek! and Cwtch (user friendly).

Georestrictions? You don't want your Internet Provider to see what exactly what you're doing online?

As long as it's legal in your country, then you need to hide your IP with a VPN (authoritarian regimes tend to make them illegal for a reason), preferably one that has a no log policy, RAM servers, does not operate in one of the 14 eyes, supports OpenVPN (protocol), accepts cash payment and uses a strong encryption.

NordVPN (based in Panama)

ProtonVPN (Switzerland)

Cyberghost

Mullvad (Sweden)

Surfshark (Netherlands)

Private e-mails?

ProtonMail

StartMail

Tutamail

Mailbox (ecofriendly option)

Want to hide your real e-mail address to avoid spam etc.? SimpleLogin (open source)

E-mail clients?

Thunderbird

Canary Mail (for Android and iOS)

K-9 Mail (Android)

Too many complex passwords that you can't remember?

NordPass

BitWarden

LessPass

KeePassXC

Two Factor Authenticators?

2FAS

ente Authenticator

Aegis Authenticator

andOTP

Tofu (for iOS)

Want to encrypt your files? VeraCrypt (for your disk), GNU Privacy Guard (for your e-mail), Hat.sh (encryption in your browser), Picocrypt (Desktop encryption).

Want to encrypt your Dropbox, Google Drive etc.? Cryptomator.

Encrypted cloud storage?

NordLocker

MEGA

Proton Drive

Nextcloud

Filen

Encrypted photography storage?

ente

Cryptee

Piwigo

Want to remove metadata from your images and videos? ExifCleaner. For Android? ExifEraser. For iOS? Metapho.

Cloak your images to counter facial recognition? Fawkes.

Encrypted file sharing? Send.

Do you menstruate? Do you want an app that tracks your menstrual cycle but doesn't collect your data? drip.

What about your sexual health? Euki.

Want a fitness tracker without a closed source app and the need to transmit your personal data to the company's servers? Gadgetbridge.

#anon

45 notes · View notes

zaltynn-undertale · 9 months ago

Text

[various maintenance sketches]

[due to his severe overload, a condition where a monster generates too much magic, sans has a portable drain attached directly to his soul. it can suction magic straight from the source at varying rates depending on his needs. Because its port is directly attached to his soul, his soul is constantly in a "summoned" state, where he keeps it safety tucked away in his ribcage.]

[because magic can congeal into a thicker liquid, or even gel-like substances, it is important that both the tubing and the machine itself gets periodically cleaned or replaced, or it could clog up and cause problems.]

[the drain itself is a simple boxy design, meant to be manageable in size and weight to carry all day while not sacrificing function. sans' fits in a decently small backpack that he has decorated with space and bone themes. his machine came standard with an on/off switch, charge port, battery life indicator, capacity indicator, control dial, compartment for catch vials, the port for the tubing, and access to the replaceable battery.]

[the machine's catch vial is larger than standard booster vials, and can be opened to dump the contents for disposal or redistribution. overloaded magic is safe for consumption as magic boosters, but if the magic is two-toned like sans', its efficacy is reduced or muddled and can cause varying results in magic type sharing. for example, one vial may end up 60-40 cyan-yellow which will boost cyan magic more than yellow; and another vial may end up 10-90 cyan-yellow which will boost yellow magic more than cyan]

[the small black device is a basic soul monitor, mainly used for uninvasive CHECKs that can see MP and HP. its usually quickly attached via a simple corded patch on the soul, or on the chest if the patient is averse to summoning their soul. most times sans puts it on his sternum to avoid unnecessary strain on his already stressed soul]

[when sans is sick with a flare up, he usually keeps the monitor on, at the request of papyrus. it can send updates to either of their phones for archiving his condition's patterns and so papyrus can keep a better eye on his brother if sans is unwilling or incapable of speaking.]

#overload au #undertale #undertale au #zaltynn art #overload!sans #overload!papyrus #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #overload!lore #finally finished #im so happy #im really proud of this #disabled sans #disabled!sans #disability #fantasy disability

77 notes · View notes

sevasey51 · 13 days ago

Note

Early in the morning the watch goes off for y/ns BP dropping suddenly. All day her pressures are teetering and nothing is really helping. Ava and Hannah come once they realize that all the logs entered haven’t improved.

Teetering Lines and Tethered Love

Summary: In the quiet stillness of early morning, Connor is woken by a soft chime—the alert from Y/N’s vitals monitor. Her blood pressure has dropped again. What starts as a low-pressure blip becomes a full day of unsteady readings and invisible weight. When logs show no improvement, Ava and Hannah step in. Together, they create a bubble of calm amid the cascade—holding her steady, body and soul, as the world tilts.

The first sound was soft—a tiny, almost apologetic chime from the bedside table.

Connor stirred, bleary-eyed, reaching instinctively for the watch display clipped to the nightstand. It was synced to the monitor strapped snugly around Y/N’s wrist. The screen blinked red.

BP: 78/43. Alert. Sudden Drop.

He was out of bed in seconds.

She was still curled up in the blankets, one hand under her cheek, hair a little damp from the summer heat. Her breathing was steady, but her skin was cold to the touch—clammy, the kind of cold that made his stomach twist. He knelt beside the bed, brushing her hair from her face.

“Sweetheart? Wake up for me.”

She stirred, blinking slowly. “Hmm?”

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm… floaty. Tired. Why’s everything… tilting?”

Connor reached for the cuff on the dresser, confirming what the watch had warned: 77/41 now, heart rate 132 and climbing.

“Okay,” he said softly, already in motion. “We’re going to fix this. Stay right there.”

The morning moved in slow waves.

Salt tabs. Compression socks. A quick bolus of fluids through her peripheral line. For a little while, her numbers crept up just enough to make him breathe—but by noon, she was swaying again, pale, her vision tunneling. The logs in their shared app—color-coded and timestamped—showed the clear trend:

BP: unstable.

HR: too high.

Symptoms: fatigue, dizziness, nausea, cold limbs.

Connor tapped the button marked “Notify Care Team.”

It took less than thirty minutes for Ava and Hannah to arrive.

They came with med bags and quiet urgency—Ava with a portable monitor slung over one shoulder, Hannah already reviewing the shared vitals file from her phone.

“You did everything right,” Ava said to Connor as they set up in the living room. Y/N lay curled on the couch now, blanket tucked up to her chin, cheeks pale and a bit damp.

“It’s like her system’s on a carousel,” he murmured. “We’d think she was stabilizing, and then—bam. Crash again.”

Hannah sat beside Y/N and took her hand. “Hey, lovebug. You still with us?”

Y/N nodded weakly. “I didn’t… do anything wrong. I just woke up like this.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Hannah said gently, brushing a hand along her hairline. “Your body’s just working a little too hard today. We’re going to help it rest.”

They worked in practiced rhythm.

Ava adjusted the IV and began a slow drip of fluids with electrolyte support, switching from oral to IV anti-nausea meds. Hannah did a quick bedside echo, lips pressing into a tight line.

“Her heart’s working harder than it should be for this low of a pressure. Classic hypovolemia pattern,” she muttered to Ava.

“Let’s get the backup meds ready. Connor’s got some hydrocortisone in the fridge—might need a boost if her adrenals are lagging.”

Y/N moaned faintly as they shifted her, overwhelmed by the gentle flurry of hands and monitoring wires.

Connor was beside her in an instant, sitting on the floor at couch-level, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

Her lip quivered. “I didn’t even stand up. I was sleeping. Why does my body do this?”

Connor leaned in, kissed her temple. “Because it’s still trying to figure things out. But we’ve got you, okay? All of us.”

By late afternoon, she was finally stable.

Not great. Not vibrant. But stable enough to sit up with assistance, sip from her Owala bottle, and whisper quiet thanks to Hannah and Ava, who hadn’t left her side.

“You’ve got a standing order to call us when it dips below 85 again,” Ava said as she packed up. “No guilt, Y/N. That’s what we’re here for.”

“And if it doesn’t settle for good by tomorrow morning,” Hannah added, “we’ll run her in for full labs and maybe another infusion. But you might just need the rest of the day flat.”

Y/N nodded, nestled into Connor’s side now on the couch, limbs still heavy. “Thank you.”

Connor kissed her hair again, arms tight around her.

Later that night, as she drifted off against his chest, he whispered softly against her skin:

“You don’t have to fight alone, love. I’ll listen to the beeps. I’ll check the numbers. You just focus on breathing. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”

#fluff #connor rhodes #sevasey51 #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #yn halstead #chicago med #connor rhodes x halstead reader #ava bekker #hannah archer

21 notes · View notes

pussyydestroyer · 7 months ago

Text

“Secrets behind the shadows”

Pairing: Ghostface Sam Carpenter x Ghostface fem!reader

Warning: +18, smut slightly, knee thing, blood, stafed, car crash, mention of brain damage, attempt to use neutral pronouns, 50% of this is not very serious.

Summary: The murders in New York continue but apparently, these new killers are not very close each other as the previous ones used to be, being a victim of our dear group of friends, a living statement of what happened.

Word count: 6.8k

To clarify: Everything that happened in the last movie is canon here just for the detail that Ethan was never ghostface and is alive.

The house had been completely empty for a couple of hours now, and you already knew it. You had been following her practically all afternoon without her noticing.

Her girlfriend had already left a while ago, which was the perfect time to get out of your car and head towards her house.

You hid in some bushes that were in the backyard of the house with the perspective of the large window that was in front of you. You could see most of the first floor.

During the morning, you parked your car near her house and took a quick look for your hiding spot during the call you would make to her at night. And the only perfect places were in the bushes in the backyard and in the space between the front door and the window.

At the window, you were much closer to the house, you could hear her footsteps and movements very well. But it was very blurry to see, that's why you chose to be in the yard.

You took out your binoculars and monitored her for several minutes waiting for the perfect moment to stalk. As you waited, you put on the black tunic with sparkles even with the binoculars in your hand.

You had always worn black pants and boots which made it easy for people not to suspect you.

You were getting tired of waiting. Waiting for what exactly? You didn't know, but you always demanded it from yourself. You always wanted the murders to be perfect, but they never turned out the way you expected.

It's true, you've never been suspected or caught red-handed. But you failed, you always failed because of the same damn person.

With your free hand, you touched your waist to feel your weapons that were still with you until you saw that she sat comfortably on the couch.

This was your chance.

You threw the binoculars somewhere in the yard while you quickly put on the mask which had a small circular device glued inside with a firm cloth that made your voice change.

You took out the phone ready to dial her number, which was already on the screen all day, ready for this moment.

You placed the speaker phone close to the mask's mouth, observing every little detail of her through the window.

Your finger was just a few inches away from touching the call button when another call from inside the house interrupts you, completely taking you out of your thoughts.

You sigh heavily as you watch her get up from the armchair she was barely able to stay on to grab the portable phone that was on the wall.

You reluctantly put your hand under your tunic to put the phone in your pants pocket.

You watch her mouth move as she speaks and hear a muffled murmur. Her expression was soft and a little odd, so you try to sharpen your hearing to hear better.

Failing successfully, you move delicately and cautiously to be closer to the window. Placing yourself on the wall where the glass ends as your back slides down against it.

It was still difficult to hear the call and you could only hear her voice.

After a tense moment of sudden silence, you tilt your head slightly towards the window to see what was happening.

You see her back, her body was tense and trembling slightly.

You continue to look at her until you hear the famous words and that easy-to-recognize tone of voice.

“Do you like scary movies?”

You clench your robes tightly with your hands as you put your back and head against the wall again, realizing that the other ghostface returned to stalk and harass the same person as you again.

“Oh hell nah, no this dude again” You whisper, dragging your fists from your head back as you clench your jaw trying to keep your cool. Clearly you had completely lost it.

The memories of your last three murders not being perfect for you because another ghostface comes along and you don’t even know who is behind that damn mask, come back to your mind.

The constant thought of your plans going just as you planned until this guy came along and practically stole your victims, was irritating you more and more.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK. THIS MOTHERFUCKER!” you raise your voice more and more but still in a whisper as you writhe around punching and kicking at nothing.

You let out a loud, muffled groan as you bite your lower lip to suppress the irritated scream you were about to give.

You stop throwing tantrums when you hear her answer the questions you should have asked her, not that guy who also called himself ghostface.

At this point you were already pissed off.

You already knew the routine of these calls, and since you were furious you decided to act before time.

You grab a large rock that was in the flowerpot next to you, stand up and stealthily back away from the window without her seeing you. You play with the rock in your hand for a moment and then throw it with all your strength against the large glass, breaking it instantly.

You watch fascinated as the glass falls to pieces on the floor.

She quickly turns around upon hearing the deafening sound and completely paralyzes upon seeing you outside her house.

Completely terrified, she trembles, dropping the phone to the ground. Meanwhile, you slowly tilt your head to the side before running out of there.

She loses sight of you and instinctively begins to back away with clumsy and weak steps, until she bumps into something.

She turns her head and sees over her shoulder the other ghostface behind her who quickly raises their knife to kill her.

You circle the house with quick steps to enter through the front door. But when you arrive, you see that it is completely open.

You lean out, holding on to the door frame while scanning the living room with your eyes, cursing yourself internally for taking so long.

It was completely messy compared to how you had seen it a few seconds ago.

Broken flowerpots and glass, the armchair fallen backwards and several broken or fallen chairs. There were holes in the walls and you could deduce that they were from the knife and the poor aim of the other killer.

You clench your fists tightly as you raised them to bring them to your face. All of this was trying to fill up the little patience you had, until you heard in the distance a sound of metal hitting some surface, followed by some pleading screams.

The other killer was two steps above you again, again. Them always managed to get on your nerves.

You sighed heavily as you hit the wall with the side of your fist before heading to wherever you heard the noise.

The noises grew louder as you entered the house. You were ready to take out the knife and stab anything or anyone that crossed your path.

When you reached the kitchen through one of the hallways, you found them.

You stood still watching as she ran and dodged the stabs of the supposed killer.

It seemed like neither of them noticed your presence as she walked out of the kitchen down the opposite hallway to you, heading up the stairs.

You went after the other killer as them followed her.

They hadn't really noticed your existence at the time until you grabbed their heel and yanked them down hard, causing them to fall and slide down the stairs.

You quickly stepped over them, intentionally stepping on their hand.

You chuckled as you heard their gasp of pain as you mockingly gave them the middle finger. “sucker”

You shook your head, wanting to forget about the other killer for a moment so you could focus your attention on your real victim.

You hear a door slam shut and you turn to where the sound came from. With quick steps you approach the door and turn the handle to try to open it.

You forcefully push your shoulder against the door when it wouldn't open.

The girl inside the room lets out a gasp as she hears the continuous banging.

She moves a drawer to try and block the door and you, hearing the noise, bang faster and harder until a glass vase crashes into your nape, breaking instantly.

You put a hand to the back of your head as you gasp and turn around to find the other ghostface running towards you with their knife in their hand.

Them tries to slash your shoulder, but you dodge it by moving to the left to run down the hallway.

“Your goal was to kill the girl. You didn’t have to be distracted by the other guy,” you reproached yourself as you looked for the other door that led to the room.

A knife flew over your shoulder, ripping the fabric of your robe, making a superficial wound.

You stop abruptly as you see it was nailed to the wall in front of you. You swallow hard at the thought that at the end of the day, them was better than you.

You hissed in pain as the blood spread slowly.

You didn't have time to react when the ghostface had already reached you pushing you against the wall.

You lean on your forearms and quickly turn to them to find him with their arm raised, ready to stab you.

You grab their wrist tightly to try to stop their hand that was going straight for your shoulder.

Gasping when you realized that them had much more strength than you, then grabbed your tunic to bring you closer to them.

You grunt in pain when the tip of their knife finally touches your shoulder, the same shoulder that them had thrown the knife at you before.

You clench your jaw and groan as you put a hand on their chest to push them away from you.

Having your hand there, you felt a lump, not knowing what it was until you realized it was a breast.

“You are… a girl?” you stuttered in a whisper.

You froze for a few seconds. It had never occurred to you that the impostor in all of this, the one who ruined your plans, the one who made you frustrated was a woman. And having your hand on her chest, even if it wasn't with that intention, this was getting you all mixed up.

She chuckled taking advantage of your vulnerable state to bury the knife even further. For some reason, she didn't do anything to get your hand off her chest.

Your head hits the wall hard as you hiss and groan in pain, starting to blur with your racing heart.

She abruptly pulls out the knife and you get dizzy from the lack of pressure and the blood you were losing.

Everything around you was spinning and you see how she is about to stab you again.

With a clumsy and quick movement you raise your knee and hit her hard in the crotch causing her to gasp and writhe in pain.

You stood still for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath as you squeezed the badly opened wound with your hand and then ran with difficulty towards your main purpose.

You didn't know if it was because you wanted to finish what you started or because you are a big girl lover but you no longer had that need to fight her.

Yes, you were going to kill another girl and being a woman doesn't stop you. But that ghostface was strong, taller than you, lots of fighting skills. She was literally your type.

“She might have muscles” you thought. Shook your head to forget all the thoughts you had about her.

You reached the other corner of the hallway where the other door was to enter the room.

You hit it with your good shoulder again several times while you hear murmurs of despair inside it, until it opens.

Your victim shout upon seeing you. She was sitting in a corner, her face dripping with blood. She had clearly fought against the other ghostface.

She was holding a piece of iron in one hand and, unfortunately for you, she had a phone in the other.

She had called someone, she definitely had.

She shivers and screams as she sees your slow, clumsy steps towards her. Your shoulder still hurt, but that didn't stop you from finishing what you started.

She was totally terrified.

She throws the phone towards you, but you don't move, you just let yourself receive the blow that didn't even hurt.

She screams and holds the iron with both hands when you were a few steps away from her.

She couldn't stop sobbing and her tears fell down her cheek, mixing with the blood dripping from her forehead. She was pale.

She tries to hit you with the iron when you were close enough, but you grab it immediately.

Without wasting any more time, you grab the iron tightly while with your other hand you push her to deeply bury the knife in her collarbone.

This whole setback with the other killer who happened to be a woman was delaying you more than you thought, and you were happy that this victim was killed by your own hands.

Her shouts of pain were the only thing you could hear in the room as you grabbed her other shoulder and stabbed her stomach.

The knife went in and out full of blood.

You, the floor and her were all covered in blood.

She had stopped fighting for her life a while ago, but she was still alive.

You managed to hear footsteps coming from behind you and you ducked down just as a knife was coming towards your head.

“She took too long” you thought.

You elbowed back knowing that the other killer was there. You didn’t want to fight her but you would have to if you wanted to survive.

You punched her stomach making her squirm slightly. This gave you time to compose yourself and turn around to grab her shoulder and stab her thigh.

She groan as you dig the knife in deeper.

She weakly grabs your shoulders and hits your head with hers, making you stagger back and hit the corner of the wall.

She screams as she pulls your knife out of her thigh. Her jeans get stained with blood as she pulls the knife towards your face

You closed your eyes tightly in reflex.

Your breathing hitched as you felt the tip on your forehead, but fortunately, the mask had protected you from your possible brain hemorrhage.

In the distance, you could hear the police siren that was slowly getting louder.

Both of you looked at the window in astonishment where you could see the bright blue and red colors.

You quickly pulled the knife out of your forehead and took advantage of her being distracted to push her, causing her to fall.

With quick steps, you climbed onto a box to open the window.

You were about to escape until you felt her close the window on your torso, leaving half of you inside and half of you outside.

You yell as you try to open the window and hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs.

You were sweating from the adrenaline until you feel her open the window again with the purpose of closing it again.

When the weight of the window fades, you take the opportunity to kick her stomach hard, causing her to stagger and fall, without getting her to close it again.

This gives you time to completely get your body out of there with the intention of leaving as quickly as possible, without first giving her the finger. “asshole”

Then you close the window from the outside, leaving her inside with the polices who were seconds away from entering.

The next morning you woke up a little earlier than usual. You couldn't sleep peacefully throughout the night.

You woke up every now and then because of the pain in your shoulder, and as you went back to disinfecting your wound, you thought about the woman who managed to cut it open.

So there you were, lying in your bed, limbs outstretched, staring up at the ceiling as you went over all the events of the night before. From her stabbing her weapon into the wall in front of you to you arriving at your apartment to bandage your badly injured shoulder.

The sounds of notifications from your phone seemed to slowly fade from your hearing, making all you heard and thought about was your beating heart and her.

You didn't know how to feel about it with the constant thought of what had happened to her after you had left and left her inside with the cops.

“You should feel good to have a weight off your shoulders” you told yourself, but the lingering thought of her was making you more of an overthinker than usual.

“If Jill Roberts, Amber Freeman, and Queen Baley were incredibly sexy, why couldn’t this ghostface be too?” You were rambling on until the sound of a missed call brought you back to reality.

You groaned as you rubbed your face with both hands trying to clear any daydreams before laying on your side to grab your phone that was on the nightstand.

You turn on your phone and frown as you see that you have over 50 messages and 3 calls from the same group.

You reluctantly scroll down in order to get to the main message to read, even if it’s just a few. You were very lazy when it came to reading backlogs.

“Guys, he’s back”

As you read this message from Tara your smile widens with pride. Now you can assume that all those messages were about you and your awesome crime scene.

There you were, at 10 a.m, wearing a vest that was uncomfortably larger than your normal size, sitting on the grass of Blackmore College with your other friends, pretending to be worried as you listened to Chad talk rapidly about the poorly recounted events of the night before.

It was already a habit for you that Mindy called them to meet at the university to talk about the murders that were happening even though you didn't attend it.

You joined the group of friends a few months after the Bailey's murders, and from there you were able to adapt to some of their habits and customs such as this one.

Although they clearly distrusted you at first because of the latest events, but little by little you were able to gain some of their trust even though there was still some tension.

You looked around to capture the reactions of the rest while you muffled Chad's voice in your mind. Tara was just as worried or even more worried than her boyfriend, she was standing next to him with her hand on his shoulder to give him some support.

Ethan was sitting next to you with his hands tangled in the grass. You could see in his expression that he was scared, but not because of the murders but because of something else.

Then there was Sam, her expression was peaceful as he stared at a fixed point.

No matter how hard you tried, you could never know what was going through her mind. She was always cautious with her emotions and you could understand why she was.

No matter how much you wanted to connect, or rather, understand her emotionally it was impossible. She was too cautious, even when you both were alone, away from other people, in an intimate space.

As you delicately removed her sports shirt and her soft hands desperately played with the zipper of your pants to then discard her clothes and kiss desperately. Still, you couldn't see through her soul.

It was already customary for her to look into your eyes, with those beautiful eyes full of hunger and need that just by looking at them you already knew what she needed, what both of you needed from the other.

And after having traveled all over her body, from her thigh to her chest, with soft movements like feathers, listening to each gasp and each sound of her, like a blink, you woke up the next morning with the empty space and the persistent aroma of her winged body next to yours in bed.

But at the end of the day, they were just encounters without feelings in between. You had already clarified things from the first moment she was naked on top of you.

But the specific part of 'no feelings' was being difficult to achieve every time you saw her.

Yes, it was difficult to understand her, but you could not deny the small flutter that happened in your heart when you were together.

Although lately you have moved away from those intimate moments. The murders took up most of your time and mind to have time to think about your feelings for her.

But you can’t deny that you miss the feeling of her skin against yours, you wonder if she thinks the same.

You found yourself staring at her for a few seconds, and she noticed, fixing her gaze on you. But, luckily, a voice coming from your right side snapped you out of your thoughts, making you instantly shake your head and look away from her, trying to erase the slight blush from your cheeks.

“Wait, Mindy what?” Ethan says with genuine surprise.

Chad tries to hold back his tears as he nods weakly. You could now tell that the person who always made these unexpected meetings wasn’t here.

“This morning a police came to the department saying that Mindy had had a serious accident while driving back home…” he takes a breath before continuing. His eyes fill with tears, but refuses to cry.

“The police clarifies that the two rear wheels had clean and straight cuts…” he swallowed hard to prepare himself for what was coming “and that because of the slight blood stains on the wheel… they managed to assume that it was from a knife”

Everyone’s blood ran cold upon hearing Chad, even you.

This information caught you off guard; you had never planned to do that to her, much less hurt her. Genuinely, she was one of your favorite people in the group.

Everyone looked at each other worried about what happened while Chad took some time to compose himself.

“I tried to contact all of you… and the only one who answered my calls was Tara”

She was at his side gently rubbing his shoulder in a form of silent support.

“Then we went to the nearest hospital where she was” Tara says.

Each one tried to process the information in their own way until you raised your head and looked at both of them with feigned anguish.

“And her girlfriend, is she with her right now?” You look around lightly but can't find her in sight.

This lying thing was something you were very good at.

Chad falls silent again as he looks at the floor. The others immediately understand what happened to her.

“She is more serious than Mindy” Tara answered when she saw that her boyfriend couldn’t do it “She received multiple stab wounds in the abdomen and collarbone”

Ethan and Sam were paralyzed as they processed everything, at the same time that you pretended to be shocked with disbelief at the news.

“They are both in the same hospital, but she didn’t wake up until a few hours ago” Tara continues.

Sam nodded with genuine concern “How is she? Is she still okay? Is she conscious?”

Chad shakes his head “She is still very terrified with all this ghostface stuff. From the little she was able to say, it cleared up our suspicions”

“There are two of them?” Ethan asks skeptically.

Chad and Tara nod “Yes, but she says they are very different from how the rest of the killers had been” says Chad.

“What do you mean?” asks Sam.

“She confesses that they mostly fought each other instead of attacking her and that's why she managed to call the police” Tara says.

You swallow hard at the truth in her words. She would have died that same night if you hadn't fully dedicated yourself to fighting the mysterious ghstface.

“They don't have a plan together, they come separately” you mutter to yourself to gather your thoughts.

Chad nods within earshot, agreeing with you.

The silence was tense as everyone tried to gather their racing minds after that huge news.

You raise your head to give your opinion, but for a few seconds, which seemed like hours, you lock eyes with Sam and a glint is reflected in her eyes that makes your reasoning fail. You didn't want to give in to your own desires.

Tara manages to notice Sam's intense gaze towards you, and her expression changes to one of curiosity.

It was rare for others to see them interact; In fact, they had never seen them be together for a long time.

“So… where were you last night y/n?” her voice was slightly hesitant, her gaze flickering to Sam for a moment before landing on you.

“I was at a party with Ethan,” your voice was calm but firm as you made eye contact with her.

In part, it was true. You were with Ethan for the first few hours of the night at a party at a big house owned by some acquaintance of his. But you left much earlier, when he was already starting to get intoxicated with drugs and alcohol.

He wouldn’t notice if you weren’t there so that was your alibi.

Ethan nodded softly as Tara looked at him to check if it was true.

“And you Sam?” she asked, gently turning her head towards Sam. Their small interaction of gazes made her a little suspicious of the two of you.

“Now you’re going to take Mindy’s place and interrogate us and blame us all?” you snapped.

Tara always complained every time Mindy made her assumptions and now she was doing the same, but in a different way was very hypocritical of her.

“What did you do last night Sam?” she asked again in a firmer and more incriminating way this time, without first giving you a withering look.

Sam snorted as she adjusted her baggy pants. It seemed as if they stuck to the side of her leg.

It was not common for her to wear one of those, but it was not the time to ask.

“I was at the gym the whole time, or don't you remember that it was you who took me before leaving to who knows where?” she answered in a bad way and somewhat annoyed.

It was normal for Tara to talk to her like that, but it was the first time she did it impulsively to blame her for something.

Tara's expression was one of indignant astonishment as she frowned.

“I was at a friend's house all night. Chad knows exactly what I did all night, unlike other people” she emphasized the last word raising her voice and looking directly at Sam.

Sam was noticeably a little irritated by all the accusations from her own sister.

“What do you mean?” she was starting to get pissed off and her voice was harsher than usual.

Tara shrugged trying not to say her true thoughts when everyone clearly noticed.

Sam snorted reluctantly as she rolled her eyes. “Then I came home with Ethan and helped him inside. He has had too much to drink.”

Ethan nods guiltlessly, affirming what happened again.

Tara hums for a moment, trying to connect everything in her mind “what time was that?”

Sam got fed up with the massive interrogation that was only coming her way.

“I have no fucking idea what time I got here, ask him if he has any memory” she was pissed off as she pointed her head at Ethan.

And without saying another word, she gathered her things and turned to leave.

Everyone watched her leave, but no one did anything to get her to come back.

The guys had told you that at first Sam was someone extremely concerned about others. But the Sam you got to know seemed the complete opposite.

She was still concerned about the people she loves, but in her own way. A very different way than what you had been told.

“What do we do now?” Ethan hesitantly broke the silence.

After that, they went back to talking in more detail about what happened to Mindy and her girlfriend. During all that time, you had to pretend to be amazed and worried about them, but in reality, the only thing that occupied your mind at that moment, were the incredible abilities of that ghostface.

The night came and you were hiding somewhere in the parking lot while you made a call to your next victim who, luckily for you, was showing signs of intoxication. Ethan Landry.

You had just hung up and you saw in the distance how he looked desperately everywhere, feeling his own fear.

His steps were slow and uncoordinated. The anxiety and anguish were greater than the last time he felt it, when he was blamed countless times for being the man behind the slaughter.

You approach slowly, stopping behind each car as you get closer to him.

He looks around cautiously, his skin bristling with the tension of what is about to happen.

You sneak up behind him, just as he turns around, when you hear a noise that you yourself made to distract him.

You wrap your arm around his neck, taking him by surprise, applying strong pressure to knock the air out of him.

He tries to fight back, awkwardly hitting your elbow and shoulder while, with a quick movement, you pull out your knife and bury it in the side of his abdomen.

He groans and clenches his jaw the instant he feels the sharp tip of your weapon inside him.

You tighten your grip on him even more until you hear a car engine starting up very close to where you were.

You pull your gun out of him, making him gasp as you turn around to see where the sound is coming from. The parking lot was almost empty, with only a few cars in sight.

The car began to purr with a low, repetitive sound, and suddenly turned on powerful lights that forced you to squint, leaving you blinded for an instant.

You cursed yourself internally as you realized the vehicle was parked just a few steps away from you.

The car's engine roared louder, vibrating in the air as the driver prepared to accelerate. A chill ran down your spine as you realized he was determined to run over you and Ethan.

In an instant, the car let out a deafening scream as you stepped on the accelerator, its wheels screeching. With an almost instinctive impulse, you let go of Ethan and jumped back as the car lunged forward, violently crashing into a nearby pillar.

Your breathing quickened as your gaze moved from the car to Ethan on the ground who, despite his condition, had done the same.

You huff in frustration and look back at the car, realizing there was no one inside. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what that means.

She’s here.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. You didn’t want her to steal another victim from you, so you decide to approach Ethan with quick movements.

You were a few inches away from him when you sharpen your hearing and hear footsteps approaching from behind. Certainty washes over you: it was her.

“How was it possible she was here after how last night ended?” you mutter to yourself, incredulous.

With the knife in hand, you quickly turn around, ready to stab her chest. But she’s faster and catches your wrist with a force, making you gasp in frustration.

In an instant, you feel the cold steel in her other hand; she is already prepared for combat. You know you don't want to fight her, but if you have to, you will.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ethan crawling out of there.

You kick her ankle, causing her to instantly let go of you and limp away. You turn around with quick movements to stab him roughly in the back.

He grunts in pain as he trembles as you place your other palm on the back of the knife handle to push it deeper into him, causing him to instantly collapse with a cry of pain.

You fail to get your knife out of him in time as you are roughly pushed away, causing you to fall straight to the floor.

Your head bounced against the cold cement, feeling the beginnings of dizziness.

You tried to place your hands on her chest to push her back, but she was faster, sitting on top of you with all her weight on you while grabbing you tightly by the wrists, and with a sudden movement, she placed her hands on your head, immobilizing you.

At that moment, the mask covering your face slid up revealing your face.

You turn your head to look away from her, trying not to let her recognize you.

“Y/n?” You hear her deep voice of amazement at the modifier. You curse yourself internally for getting her to recognize you.

She tries to look at you while you move hard trying to get out of her grip until you feel her hand soften on your wrists.

You take the opportunity to get out of her grip and with quick movements, grab her wrist with which she had a knife pointing at your stomach, and her shoulder to push yourself forward and move her roughly, causing her to be under you now.

She didn’t seem to protest or defend herself from your movements, which seemed strange to you.

Now you were the one straddling her as you snatched her knife from her hand and pointed it at her neck. Your messy hair falling over your shoulders.

You didn’t want to do this, but your impulses and adrenaline told you to do it. You were trying to convince yourself that you were doing it out of self-defense.

The tip touched her neck and her hands desperately climbed up to your forearm.

You found it strange that her grip wasn’t to push you away from her, but to keep you in place, so that you wouldn’t keep moving it.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” She begs with hurried and desperate words as her grip tightens “Don’t do it, it’s me!”

For some reason you feel like you have to let her vent.

One of her hands lets go of you and slowly makes its way to her mask which she carefully removed knowing that any wrong move would get you attacked.

You were ready to push all your strength against her neck until you froze and shocked to see that the person who made your life impossible, who left you in a bad mood by not being able to kill your victims at will, who had received many blows from her, was the same one with whom you had spent many intimate moments.

“Sam?…” your voice was almost audible as you loosened your grip making the knife fall gently on her neck.

Sam hissed softly as the knife made a slight wound, making a small, not so serious line of blood as she nodded.

You were paralyzed as you tried to process this whole revelation. Even though you had her in front of you, it was still impossible to believe.

You parted your lips trying to speak, but the only thing that came out were incoherent stutters. You didn't know what to say or do at this moment, your mind was racing and the only thing you knew for sure was that she looked very pretty.

“It was you all along…” You said in a breathless whisper, breaking the deafening silence.

She nods and puts her hands on your thighs softly. “I didn’t know it was you either” she chuckles lightly.

Even through those leather gloves, you felt her warm gesture. “why did you…”

“if I had known, I wouldn’t have done it” she interrupts you. She didn’t want to have a long talk with you about why she does it. “I swear”

You could feel that her words were pure truth, but given the conditions, it was hard for you to accept it.

You stayed silent for a moment. Thousands of things were going through your mind. Every moment of fighting you had had without knowing it was her, every grudge and anger you had felt.

Suddenly a smile appeared on your face that soon turned into a soft laugh. “Oh man” you bring a hand to your temple.

She smiles back at you “You sure know how to kick hard” she teases a little to relieve the little tension there was.

You nod as you get up from her hips to shake her hand.

“Yes, I know” a smile still lingering on your face as she took your hand and you helped her stand up “How did you manage to get out?”

“I'll just tell you that there was more blood than before and a window next to her bed” she said playfully as you watched her fix her robe.

The adrenaline of the moment had left you completely assumed that you had left her locked up with all those policemen that you hadn't thought of that option, which made you laugh.

“Well, I'm really sorry”

She shook “it's okay, neither of you knew the other was ghostface”

You nod seeing her beautiful smile at your shared jokes even though there were many times when you were about to kill the other.

You missed her.

You looked into each other's eyes with a smile. You recognized that typical look of hers that with its brightness said how much she loved you.

“I should go” She breaks the silence giving you a soft goodbye smile before turning around to leave.

She's not far from you when you take a few steps, you firmly grab her wrist to turn her around and pull her towards you and join your lips.

She sighs against your lips, taking her by surprise this act, but she immediately reciprocates the kiss by putting a hand on your cheek to bring you closer to her.

Your lips parted as a reflex, letting her tongue slide past you, gasping instantly as both of your tongues met.

Your mind went cloudy and all you could think about was how much you wanted to have her in your bed like last time.

You brought a hand to her lower back to join your bodies making her gasp and smile against your lips.

The kiss quickly became more and more intense, as if your lives depended on it.

She walked forward forcing you to back up until you felt the side of the car's hood hit it, causing a thud.

You chuckled at the feel of it on your butt, but didn't break away from the kiss.

Your hand moved down the lines of her butt to move to the side and firmly touch her thigh.

She pulled away slightly to give a sharp gasp that you interpreted as pain rather than pleasure.

You felt something wet above the fabric when you touched her there but the heat of the moment made you not take it too seriously.

You took in every detail for a few seconds, every corner of her face flushed as if you wanted to memorize it, until she leaned down to kiss your jaw.

You leaned back, bracing your hands on the car as her kisses trailed down your neck.

Your gasps intensify as her moist, slightly parted lips are on your skin. They felt like heaven.

Her hand moves to rest on top of yours as you tangle your fingers in her hair as you feel her tongue dart out to lick the kiss marks she left behind.

Her breathing was just as fast as yours as you dropped your head down to reveal more of your neck to her.

As if in the blink of an eye, her leg found its way to your crotch, pressing her knee against your core which made you moan softly and tighten your grip on her hair.

I hope Sam lovers (like me) like this fic and if there is any badly written part let me know because the translator is really shitty 😸

#scream #scream 2022 #scream 2023 #scream x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #fem reader #f!reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sesbian lex #lesbian #sapphic #lesbeans #ghostface

38 notes · View notes