Main hub thread with the full 131 rankings
The year was 1976. Nevada, coming off a 3-8 year in Division II, hired a little known assistant from UNLV to be their football coach. He had returned to his alma mater where he played QB just 8 years prior. Chris Ault. Ault oversaw 2 transitions: From Division II to Division 1-AA in 1978, then again to Division 1-A in 1992. Ault was a wild success, running his patented pistol offense, making the Division 1-AA playoffs 7 times in 14 years, with an overall record of 122-47-1. Their final year in 1-AA, 1991, they overcame a 35 point 2nd half deficit against Weber State to win 55-49. Backup QB Chris Vargas led the comeback, and would become known as “The Comeback Kid”. He also donated part of his lungs to his brother-in-law in 2000. Be like Chris Vargas.

Best Seasons and Highlights

1. 2010: 12. Nevada: 13-1 (32.831) 2. 1996: 31. Nevada: 9-3 (8.179) 3. 1995: 33. Nevada: 9-3 (7.733) 4. 2020: 34. Nevada: 7-2 (7.056) 5. 1994: 34. Nevada: 9-2 (6.337) 6. 2005: 29. Nevada: 9-3 (5.411) 7. 2009: 52. Nevada: 8-5 (-1.018) 8. 2021: 55. Nevada: 8-5 (-2.971) 9. 2006: 51. Nevada: 8-5 (-3.695) 10. 2018: 66. Nevada: 8-5 (-7.539) 11. 1993: 49. Nevada: 7-4 (-8.115) 12. 2008: 60. Nevada: 7-6 (-8.404) 13. 2014: 68. Nevada: 7-6 (-10.285) 14. 2011: 69. Nevada: 7-6 (-10.406) 15. 2003: 67. Nevada: 6-6 (-12.153) 16. 1992: 61. Nevada: 7-5 (-12.975) 17. 1998: 60. Nevada: 6-5 (-13.089) 18. 2012: 74. Nevada: 7-6 (-15.548) 19. 2015: 75. Nevada: 7-6 (-16.831) 20. 1997: 72. Nevada: 5-6 (-19.971) 21. 2019: 85. Nevada: 7-6 (-20.016) 22. 2007: 81. Nevada: 6-7 (-21.387) 23. 2002: 73. Nevada: 5-7 (-22.812) 24. 2013: 93. Nevada: 4-8 (-31.474) 25. 2016: 96. Nevada: 5-7 (-32.042) 26. 2004: 96. Nevada: 5-7 (-35.568) 27. 2017: 109. Nevada: 3-9 (-36.450) 28. 1999: 98. Nevada: 3-8 (-37.940) 29. 2001: 95. Nevada: 3-8 (-38.935) 30. 2022: 128. Nevada: 2-10 (-54.907) 31. 2000: 111. Nevada: 2-10 (-59.726) Overall Score: 8991 (87th) 

• 199-177 record
• 7 conference titles
• 6-11 bowl record
• 0 consensus All-Americans
• 26 NFL players drafted

Nevada’s been in the FBS since 1992, so 31 seasons played since 1983. They were previously in the FBS (Division 1) from 1946-50, but that doesn’t fall under the 40 year timeline here. In their 31 seasons, they’ve made 17 bowls, which is 55% of the time. 7 titles means they win their conference 23% of the time. 5 titles came under Ault, the College Football Hall of Famer and easily the greatest coach in school history. Top NFL players include QB Colin Kaepernick, WR Nate Burleson, and OT Joel Bitonio.

Top 5 Seasons

Worst Season: 2000 (2-10 overall, 1-7 WAC)
New conference, new coach, new lows. Nevada moved from the Big West to the WAC with Chris Tormey, who previously went 32-23 at Idaho. There were early struggles, with a 7-36 loss to Oregon, 10-41 to #22 TCU, and 14-45 to Colorado State. They did get a 35-28 win over Wyoming. The season quickly got away from them though, after a 7-38 loss to rival UNLV. Cormey would go 0-4 against UNLV in his 4 years, which was inexcusable. Nevada got a late season win over Rice, but finished off with a brutal 3-38 performance vs Tulsa. Nevada finished last place in their new conference. Sophomore WR Nate Burleson was a breakout player though, with 921 receiving yards. Burleson went on to be an All-American in 2002, leading the nation in catches with 138, for 1629 yards and 12 TD. He was drafted in the 3rd round in 2003 and went on to have a solid NFL career and is an even better media personality than football player.
5. 1994 (9-2 overall, 5-1 Big West)
Chris Ault was in his 18th season at the time, with 1st year offensive coordinator Bobby Petrino. The two made magic happen, ranking 3rd in the nation with 37.6 PPG. Nevada started 9-1, with the only loss to Boise State, who was in Division 1-AA at the time. Boise would join Division 1-A in 2 years, but in 1994, was a division below and went 13-2 and made the title game. Nevada had rolled through the rest of the Big West, mostly beating teams that finished with losing records, but did beat 6-5 Pacific 38-26. Heading into the final week, Nevada had already won a share of the Big West title, but faced rival UNLV, who was 5-4 (4-1 Big West) and looking to get a share themselves. In the most hyped game between the two ever, UNLV pulled off the upset, winning 32-27 in a game now known as the “Red Defection”, which I talked about in UNLV’s post. Nevada still finished the year 9-2, with a share of the Big West title. QB Mike Maxwell led the NCAA in passing TDs, throwing for 3537 yards 29 TD 15 INT. RB Marcellus Chrishon ran for 1000+ yards in just 9 games, and WR Alex Van Dyke, a future 2nd round pick, caught 98 balls for 1246 yards and 9 TD.
4. 2020 (7-2 overall, 6-2 Mountain West)
Nevada was expected to be a solid team in 2020, returning talented young QB Carson Strong. Because of covid weirdness, their schedule was anything but regular, and ended up playing all 8 regular season games against Mountain West opponents. Because of this, there was little room for error. They did as well as they could, starting 4-0, set to face 3-1 San Diego State, who was the division favorite. There were no divisions this year because of covid, but SDSU was still a favorite to qualify for the title game. A 26-21 lead heading into the 4th for Nevada held for the final 15 minutes, and they improved to 5-0 with a conference championship appearance in sight. At 6-1, they’d unfortunately lose 20-30 to an upstart 5-0 San Jose State team that would go on to win the Mountain West. Nevada still made a bowl, beating 6-5 Tulane 38-27 to finish 7-2, and 34th in my rankings. QB Carson Strong won Mountain West OPOTY, completing 70% of passes for 2858 yards, 27 TD, and just 4 INT. Many were talking about him as a future 1st round pick heading into 2021. RB Toa Taua, brother of legendary Nevada RB Vai, had a solid year with 675 rushing yards in 8 games, earning 2nd Team All-MWC. Toa went on to have a consistent 5-year career in which he amassed 3997 rushing yards, 4th in school history only to his brother, Chris Lemon, and Colin Kaepernick. Strong formed a strong connection with WR Romeo Doubs, now on the Green Bay Packers, who had 1000+ receiving yards and 9 TD in just 9 games. Overall, 10 players made 1st/2nd team all-conference.
3. 1995 (9-3 overall, 7-0 Big West)
This was right after the 1994 season, where Nevada went 9-2 but lost on the final day to rival UNLV, forced to share the conference title. They left no doubt in ‘95, outpacing UNLV 55-32 en route to a 7-0 Big West season and sole owners of the title. In week 3, 2-0 Nevada hosted Gary Pinkel’s Toledo, losing 35-49 in what previewed the bowl game later on. After then dropping a game to SDSU to fall to 2-2, Nevada averaged a whopping 48.4(!) PPG in their last 7 regular season games, going 7-0 with wins over 2nd placed Southwestern Louisiana and 3rd placed Utah State. That set up a rematch with Toledo in the bowl, who was now #25 and 9-0-1. In the first overtime game in college football history, Toledo won again, this time closer at 40-37. Gary Pinkel completed an undefeated season with the Rockets, while Nevada finished 9-3. The offensive numbers were again staggering, even better than 1994. Nevada ranked 3rd in the nation in PPG with 43.4. QB Mike Maxwell led the NCAA in passing yards with 3611 (in just 9 games!) and 33 TD to 17 INT. WR Alex Van Dyke had an unbelievable year, with 129 catches for 1854 yards and 16 TD. In just 11 games! If he played a 13 game season like teams do today, his stats would extrapolate to 152 catches for 2191 yards and 19 TD.
2. 1996 (9-3 overall, 4-1 Big West)
As you can tell, Nevada was balling from 1994-96. New head coach Jeff Tisdale, a former All-American QB for Nevada in the 70’s, took over for Ault, who continued in his role as Athletic Director, which he had been in since 1986. There was no drop off offensively, averaging 42.9 PPG (2nd in the nation), but the defense gave up 8 less PPG, going from 31.2 allowed in 1995 → 23.8 in 1996. QBs John Dutton and Eric Bennett alternated throughout the year, coaches trying to decide who was the right fit to take over for Mike Maxwell. Both were solid, and combined for 3907 passing yards 34 TD 11 INT. Nevada started 1-2 with losses to Pac-10 opponents Oregon and Cal, but then started to wipe through the schedule. Nevada went 7-1 the rest of the way in the regular season, with 25+ point wins over UNLV, Boise State, North Texas, New Mexico State, Utah State, and Arkansas State. The only Big West loss was 15-24 to Idaho, who finished 3rd in the conference. Nevada tied with Utah State at 4-1, sharing the conference title, but got the better of them in a 54-27 win. An 18-15 win over 8-3 Ball State in the bowl clinched Nevada’s first ever bowl win, and they now have 5 more since. LB Mike Crawford nabbed the game-sealing interception, and was the game’s MVP, logging 14 tackles and a forced fumble to go with the INT.
1. 2010 (13-1 overall, 7-1 WAC)
I said that Kansas might be the team with the most obvious “best” season, but Nevada’s up there too. This was a dream season, almost like a Hollywood script. Nevada was a very good team entering 2010, picked to finish 2nd in the WAC, but EVERYONE was picking Boise to win the conference. Not just the conference, but to possibly contend for a national title. That’s what the Broncos did, starting 10-0 and #3 in the nation, getting as high as #2 at one point. Back in Reno, Nevada expectedly started 2-0, setting up a Friday night game hosting Cal. I remember watching it, a Cal fan at the time, hoping the Bears would improve to 3-0, but Colin Kaepernick and RB Vai Taua ran all over our defense, posting 299 rushing yards between the two of them in a 52-31 win. A 27-13 win at BYU the next week put Nevada in the AP Top 25 at 4-0. They’d beat up on bottomfeeders UNLV and San Jose State before heading to Hawaii, but lose a trap game to the upstart Rainbow Warriors, who won 27-21 with almost no one watching the 11:30 PM EST start time game. Nevada kept their focus though, and won 2 more to get to 8-1 and back up to #21. A win over 6-2 Fresno State, a traditional WAC power, was huge, with the Wolfpack taking a 35-34 lead with 5 minutes remaining. After a 52-6 win over New Mexico State, the Wolfpack were 10-1, and #19 in the nation, having one of the best seasons in school history.
Then came the Boise State game. Nevada had finished 2nd in the WAC for 2 straight years, unable to get over the Bosie hump. Boise State was the class not just of the WAC, but of all the non-AQ schools in the BCS era. They were the team that finally had a chance to break not into just a BCS bowl, but the national title game. Nevada was the home team and wasn’t going to just lie down, but this Boise team was, at the time, the best non-Power 6 team we’d ever seen. Boise didn’t disappoint, galloping out to a 17-0 lead early. Taua cut it to a 10 point deficit in the 2nd quarter, but Boise RB Doug Martin immediately responded with a 51 yard TD run to send it into halftime at 24-7. With the offense stalling, Kaepernick finally broke off an 18 yard TD run on 3rd and 6 with 1:30 left in the 3rd quarter to make it 24-14. Following a defensive stop, Nevada got the ball back to start the 4th. Receiving an end-around lateral 12 yards behind the LOS, with 3 tacklers to beat, WR Rishard Matthews evaded them all and took it 44 yards to the house. 24-21. With 5 minutes to go, Nevada made it 24 all. Boise, who hadn’t scored all half, put the ball in Doug Martin’s hands and let him do the work, taking a screen pass 79 yards for the go-ahead TD. In response, Kaepernick drove the length of the field, 15 seconds to go…Touchdown, Nevada! With 13 seconds left! Will they go for 2…? No.
Boise State ball with 9 seconds to go, both teams preparing for OT. Kellen Moore throws up a PRAYER for Titus Young, nearly 60 yards in the air…and Young LAYS out for the catch, down to the Nevada 10. 1 second left, 26 yard FG, Boise with one of the best kickers in school history, game over. Except it wasn’t. Kyle Brotzman hit it wide right. OVERTIME. The stadium was shaking. 3rd & goal in overtime for Boise, incomplete. Brotzman comes back out, this time from 29. WIDE LEFT. As Joe Tessitore put it, “this is turning into a disaster”. On the other side, Nevada kicker Anthony Martinez lined up for a 34 yard FG for the biggest win in school history. Right down the middle. Nevada wins it 34-31 in OT, pulling off one of the biggest upsets of the 2010s and winning a share of the WAC title, against all odds. Nevada won their last regular season game against Louisiana Tech and the bowl against Boston College to finish 13-1 and #11 in the AP Poll.
The offense averaged 41.0 PPG while the defense gave up just 21.4. Kaepernick won WAC OPOTY, throwing for 3022 yards 21 TD 8 INT with 1206 rushing yards and 20 TD on 7.0 YPC. Taua was 1st Team All-WAC with 1610 rushing yards and 19 TD, finishing his career as Nevada’s all-time leading rusher with 4588 yards. DE Dontay Moch was in contention for WAC DPOTY, with 8.5 sacks and 13.5 TFL. Overall, this turned out to be a loaded Wolfpack team, with 9 players drafted over the next 3 years, including Kaepernick, who led the San Francisco 49ers to a Super Bowl appearance.

5th Quarter

Do you remember that insane 2010 game vs Boise, and that Nevada team with Kaepernick/Taua? What do you think about Nevada in general, with the success they’ve had running the pistol and Chris Ault’s legacy?
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Blessed be Jesus and Mary, brothers and sisters. So with all posts on this subreddit about traditional Latin mass, I found out that in my city every week they actually hold such mass and I'm beginning to grow big interest in it. I even thought of starting to pray in Latin, especially since there's a bilingual prayer book for my mother tongue - but I have an issue a bit with it. I feel like, despite it holding some depth and mysticism to it, how much is the prayer worth if I don't actually understand word for word what I'm saying. I understand Our Father, but in Latin I wouldn't be sure what I said exactly and I feel as if that would be just babbling and I wouldn't be so confident in prayer as with mother tongue.
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Would anyone still recommend me go with it or should I just stick with my language? I really want to do it, but I have these doubts. Any advice will help and I'd like to hear other's beginnings. Thanks.

I’ve been struggling with PMO quite alot recently. The first time I was exposed to it was when I was like 6 years of age. Obviously at that time nothing could happen except me physically viewing it but it destroyed my perception of women. I also didnt keep watching because I was only a child and didn't know how. Then last year, I was watching some YouTube video and it had a lot of provocatively dressed women. I randomly, probably from the whispers of Shaytan, had an urge to go on google and search further. After I watched it, like everyone else, told myself thats it and that i am no longer going to watch that again.
I searched for it again. And Again. And again. I never masturbated because I didnt know how to and I didnt want to search it up. Then I did it. And then a large weight of regret fell upon me . I felt disgusting. I told myself that was it.
It wasn’t. I kept doing it but luckily at that point I knew you had to do ghusl in order to pray etc. It messed up my Iman and i felt lost. It kept happening and I know it feels feminine to say this but I had a breakdown. It felt like my chest exploded and there was no longer any mental control. I wanted my life to end. (The s word) . For that whole night I basically became unhinged and thought of different ways to do so. But then I got tired from these crazy emotions and before I slept I asked Allah. “Ya Allah please help me. Please help me” and then I slept. I had a dream about all the beauty in life and the beauty of Allahs creation. I woke up and I felt deeply sad that I was so lost and I got up to pray fajr. I did my ghusl and then went to pray. I stood in prayer as my tears ran all the way down my face. Allah saved me.
I then made dua to Allah that I will keep making an effort to stop this sin and to this day I am still battling this struggle but every time I fail i go back in repentance and reflect on what made me fail. I keep in mind the fact that as soon as I stop repenting for this sin, the moment the Shaytan has distanced me from Allah and taken me away from the light. Brothers and sisters if you’re reading this, please repent. Please remain steadfast. Please remain strong. Allah is the modt merciful, the Most Compassionate.
Please dua that I have ease in this battle with the fitnah of this world and that we all collectively are given rightful spouses and children in the rightful means. Ameen

I can’t take this anymore, I’m failing civics, history, math, and my shop teacher stared right at me while saying that if anyone fails they will have to re-take the course next year, and stated that doing bad on our main project could make us re-take it, and I know I did bad on it, the majority of my cuts were off, I forgot to sand down the dowel, the wood split, the angles were wrong, and the table wobbled.
My mom says if I fail any classes I get kicked out, and with a month of school left my chances of being kicked out are almost guaranteed now.
I can’t take this and it’s not helping that I have no hope in the future from price increases, overpopulation, and global warming, not to mention at this rate I won’t be able to get a job, at all since I have no skills and can’t interact with people because my social anxiety is so bad that simply saying hello sends me into full blown panic mode.
I have a bottle of adhd meds and fluoxetine at home which could probably get the job done, I just don’t know if I should do it.
Not to mention every day the things that haunt me are slowly killing me and I can’t take it anymore.
The worst part is, I dared to hope, I dared to dream, I thought that maybe all hope wasn’t lost, that the spell I did and the prayer had worked, but they didn’t.
It’s funny how life works like that, it shows you love and happiness, peace and joy, yet when you finally dare to hope, life hits you harder.
I tried looking into chemical imbalances, but that was false information spread around the internet, adhd only causes depression as a result of not meeting societal standards.
Born with a chemical imbalance some say… my earliest memory is having a fucking rottweiler latching onto me, my second youngest is cops showing up in my room at night and telling me my dad was taken. After that was my brother showing me vidoes of him beating people up, and telling me of how he bashed my dads head in with a fucking metal baseball bat, all this below the age of fucking five.
And when I tried to talk to people I was told to grow up, that I was faking, man up, men don’t cry, that my life wasn’t bad because I live in Canada.
I can’t even fucking remember all the words, just that they fucking hurt.
YOU WANT MEN TO NOT FUCKING CRY? WELL YOU GOT YOUR FUCKING WISH, I HAVEN’T CRIED IN YEARS, INSTEAD I LASH OUT AND BREAK SHIT.
These words have been louder than any fucking actions, they’ve literally fucking broke me.
I can’t fucking function as a human now because every time I do I have the voices of these assholes speaking in my head about how I’m not good enough, I’m ugly, that I’m stupid, that I’m fat, that men don’t fucking cry.
And I can’t fucking take it anymore, all I fucking understand is pain to the point that when I finally felt happy I sought pain because happiness was foreign.
I can’t take this fucking life anymore, I’ve pushed the nice people away and now I have nobody, all I fucking have is reddit, and what the fuck does that do.

Hi, just wanted to say hi and that im new here. I am a 45 y/o diabled vet who likes to cook, long walks on the beac.....oh sorry wrong website. Who am i kidding, i cant go on long walks or cook anymore. Anyways now the funny is out of the way, i have chronic crps in my left leg. I have had a total of 8 knee surgeries on that knee from the first being a meniscus repair to the last being a rotating hinged joint.
For three or so years i have complained to my PCP about the pain, the redness, the bald spots on my leg, the tingling, the stabbing, the beads of sweat in small areas ect and nothing. I finally got the outside ortho they sent me to to recognize what it is and he sent me to a pain specialist. They have tried almost everything to help the pain but nothing works anymore. Ive tried opioids, different injections, kratom dosing, weed and others and well no relief. So come the 1st of June i get my trial stimulator in. I pray it helps as any relief is better than the current none i get. I have a high pain tolerance and its hard for me to tell people that i am at an 8 which would be most peoples 11 or 12 out of the 0-10 pain scale.
Thanks to the creators of this subreddit and hopefully i will get to know or chat with some of you all.

[TALK] Hope—God’s Unbreakable Lifeline: Ali Landry & Carley Summers (SFW)
Welcome to the Jesus Calling podcast. We’ve all experienced situations that might seem hopeless—and the overwhelming feeling of not knowing where to turn when things look bleak. Our guests this week have experienced traumatic situations that found them at the ends of their own means, when all they could do was breathe a prayer to God in desperation—searching for a glimmer of hope to cling to.
Our guests this week vulnerably share about finding that grain of hope as they faced seemingly hopeless situations. Author and TV host Ali Landry shares her moving story of overcoming a heartbreaking betrayal in her marriage, and on top of that, finding herself facing health issues that made her feel like she was living half a life. Interior designer Carley Summers battled addiction for several years in her young adult life, and at her darkest moment, felt the presence of God guiding her to ask for one more chance—opening the door to a brand-new world.
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I see so much negativity online when someone has made it, where they just say it’s luck and/or rich parents. As someone with not rich parents and has struggled with depression I still 100% believe in the American dream. I just think it’s harder to get there (especially with real estate currently).
I still think I can achieve a level of success in my job, relationship, health, and finances with enough grit and prayers. Who here has started at the bottom or in the middle and made it? Any tips? How do you handle or ignore all the negativity online that thinks anyone who has made it has something they can never acquire?

Sorry if this doesn't deserve a new thread, but I had this thought after a re-watch of the finale and it kind of blew my mind.
"I will be able to sit next to You in my rightful place in the Kingdom of Heaven for all of eternity"
First pass ... we've seen Barry's visions of the afterlife on the beach with all of the people he'd killed. We heard Moss tell him that he doesn't get to change where he goes after dies. We heard his prayer in the car before going into Hank's office building. Barry has a very clear picture of what the afterlife is, and is obviously very concerned about heaven or hell.
Then, in the obvious nod to The Sopranos, we get to see that his life just ends in Gene's house. No sounds, no sights, nothing but blackness. Initially I thought that was really cool commentary on the afterlife being nothingness. BUT ...
Rewatch ... Barry ends up taking his place in the "kingdom of heaven" for all of eternity by way of The Mask Collector which portrays him as a hero to his son. What if THAT'S the commentary. That the afterlife isn't nothingness, it's eternal life in how you're remembered, or even more cynical, eternal life in how you're portrayed by media.
If that's the case, he WASN'T wrong that God had a different plan for him than turning himself in. And if that's the case, he did change where he was going in the afterlife by not doing the one thing that all of us saw as being the right thing to do in turning himself in.

assalamalaikum brothers and sisters,
i have (very recently) converted to Islam and im struggling very hard on praying.
i just have no clue how to, i know all the positions and what a rakat is, but i dont know Arabic. I saw that there is a few verses i have to recite but i also saw a video that says you can pray by doing all the positions and saying Subhanallah for 20 seconds when standing, X3 when bowing, and X3 when prostrating, then when standing back up again you recite Al Faatihah. also saying Allahu Akbar when changing positions. this is the video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIHuXzvZC-M
now, does this count as a 2 rakat prayer? when reciting Al Faatihah am i permitted to read from a paper?
So with all of this in mind, how can i do my first prayer? i feel very overwhelmed with all the things i have to memorize to pray. Thank you For reading

I'm 20 and share a small room with my 18 year old brother (I'll call him Xavier). Xavier's been working in the same restaurant since he was 16. Anyone whose ever worked in food knows that over time the uniforms smell absolutely terrible and that's been the case for Xavier for a WHILE now. The smell stinks up our room and makes me feel disgusted. He bought himself a laundry hamper with a lid but that did very little to help.
Xavier is the sick kid in the family so my parents are way overprotective of him. I don't know what all his illnesses are but there's a lot and I think he uses this to his advantage. I asked him to start using scented fabric softener and the laundry beads to cover the sick food smell but his excuse is it irritates his skin and breathing issues, which is why he uses his own unscented stuff which does absolutely nothing. I even bought him some damn laundry beads out of my own pocket.
He washed his clothes and left them in his hamper over the weekend and I hosed them down with febreze this morning. I thought the Febreze scent would go away before he came back for the clothes but he went to get a uniform and smelled it. He whined to our parents and now they're on my case saying I was out of line. They're making me wash his clothes now which is fine because they need extra washing anyway. Xavier is still pissed and I think the parents are just siding with him like they always do.
AITA?

I've been seeing a lot more of it here. A lot more. And I know that this is going to garner me a lot of ill-will. But I can't sit back and watch disinformation overrun a community as important as this one. So here goes nothing.
First, I have a question for the vaccine injured. Why can’t any of you point me to a single shred of evidence other than your lived experiences? Ever wonder why not a single immunologist has come out to champion your hypothesis? (Which, btw, more often reads like received fact than theory when you bring it up. You know, do you? Interesting, cause there is a lot we still don't know about SARS CoV-2. Interesting that this should be suddenly official, even in the absence of any scientific corroboration).
For years, people swore that ulcers were caused by stress. It made sense. It always seemed to be worse when they were stressed. They were wrong.
For decades, people swore that miasma - bad air - caused cholera. It often happened when the air was thick. It made a lot of sense. They were wrong.
For centuries, people swore that impiety was behind their illnesses. In Europe, they relied on prayer to get better. In the Americas, ritual sacrifices. It seemed to help. They were wrong.
Might you be wrong?
nO tHiS hAs tO bE vAcCiNe rELaTeD
Why?
Why must it be vaccine related? Why can’t it be due to an unbelievably infectious, often asymptomatic, bat-borne, immune-depleting and metabolism-dysregulating novel SARS coronavirus that 90% of everyone caught as of the onset of Omicron?
bEcAuSe mY sYmpToMs sHoWeD uP aFtEr gEtTiNg tHe jAb!!1!
Yes, that may very well be. And if you catch a common cold now, it will likely knock you clean out - that’s what SARS CoV-2 does. It hay-wires our immune system and causes mad inflammation.
aNd sO dOeS tHe vAcCinE!
Evidence or STFU. I mean it. What part of mRNA vaccines could even do that? Do you even know? I ask again: Any immunologists in the house to back you up? No. Wanna know why? Because it makes no physiological goddam sense!!!!
yOu’Re jUsT gAsLigHtiNg mE!
Sure, just like I gaslight Goop, Dr Oz, Dr Phil and bloodletting. This is not gaslighting, friend. This is calling out bullshit. There is a BIG difference.
I am not CLAIMING you aren’t sick. I’m not claiming your symptoms didn’t appear after your jab. If COVID messed up your immune system as much as it did mine, it isn't impossible that the vaccine might have triggered some dormant sequelae. We do not know. We do know that arteries stiffen and the brain is impaired after even mild COVID infections. You might not notice that immediately, if at all. So no, I'm not claiming the vaccine didn't put you in a bad spot. But I AM claiming that your need for your Long COVID to be entirely vaccine-induced is highly fucking suspect.
NOTHING in the medical literature even HINTS at the possibility of these vaccines being able to trigger LC - not without COVID first doing the very heavy lifting.
If I’m wrong? I'd be stunned, because it would mean we discovered some entirely new and unheard of pathway. It'd be revolutionary, tragic, counter to everything we know. Impossible? No. Highly unlikely? Uh, yeah. If I'm wrong, I'll owe you a sincere apology. But if you’re wrong? You’ve been contributing to the paranoid anti-science populism that’s been leading us off a cliff since Andrew Wakefield's fabrication about Autism.
Here's an article of interest for you, published a little over a month ago in that same tabloid rag Wakefield published his lies in, the Lancet: Confronting the evolution and expansion of anti-vaccine activism in the USA in the COVID-19 era00136-8/fulltext). It's important reading. Cause yeah, the Lancet published Wakefield's original sin. But they also retracted it. That last part is kind of important. It's called science. Half the world simply never got the memo.
The truth matters. I mean the ACTUAL truth. Not RFK Jr's ill-informed, uneducated gut feeling.
I get it, you’re angry. I’m angry too. WTF is this life I’ve been left with? This isn’t living! So yeah, if I thought some unscrupulous megacorps had willfully maimed me, I’d be on the warpath too. The US is broken in more ways than one. I get that too. I don't live there, but I can see how it's messing with you. You can't trust anyone anymore it seems. Especially not for-profit healthcare, for-profit politics, for-profit prisons - hell even your biggest Churches are for-profit. (But ooooooooh socialism. That's the real evil, right? I digress.)
I'd be angry too if I thought Bill Gates and Purdue Pharma had done this to me. But I’d need proof. Cause that’s how I roll. Not circumstantial evidence, not just a series of coincidences, not a plethora of official looking threads from "the ethical doctor" or that retired British nurse who passes himself off as an MD (because of his PhD in education) and speaks so well with his underlining of bullet-point print-outs while going off on unsubstantiated tangents (Ivermectin, anyone?)
No, I'd want Proof. With a capital P. Cause them be some mighty big claims with some mighty big implications you been making at every fucking chance you get.
Give me more than old wives tales. Give me mechanisms underlying your injury. Cause we're getting a pretty good idea of the mechanisms underlying mine, and the vaccine simply can't do that. Even at the best of times, these vaccines' efficiency wanes in a matter of weeks. But they crippled you? Damaged your endothelium? Really?! Really.
Give me some molecular biology. So far, all I see is your personal story, an army of Twitter trolls, a popular and well-orchestrated right-wing narrative, and a few rogue MDs who can’t point to a single shred of hard evidence. I see tarot cards. Not good enough.
We are at war. COVID is the enemy, NOT Moderna and Pfizer, slimy as they may be.
I got jabbed and boosted. I also got COVID. Guess which one fucked me up? Wait - don’t tell me. I already know what you’re going to say.
And it’s really starting to piss me off.
We are all Long haulers here. How we got here should matter less than how we get out. We can lynch the Wuhan lab techs and Moderna miscreants if and when it comes to light that there was an international conspiracy. But we have nothing to gain from that sort of conjecture now. Those doctors, researchers and pharmaceutical companies you so love to hate on? We’re gonna need their help if we’re to beat this thing. And I don't know about you, but getting healthy again supersedes everything else in my book.
It also requires trusting the science. It’s evolving, it’s imperfect, but it’s better than trusting in your horoscope to tell you what to expect. You're being played, friend. And not by tHe mEdiCaL eStAbLiShmEnT. They are late to the game and have been far too dogmatic regarding Long COVID, but there is a quantum leap between that and thinking that they know the vaccines are dangerous and are pushing them nonetheless. My partner outranks all of us, medically. She got jabbed, boosted. She's never had COVID. She's fine. Oh, and she also understands how vaccines work. Fundamentally. Deeply. Intimately. So yeah, I trust her 30 years and 50 000 hours of training more than your "dO yOuR oWn rEseArCh".
Oh and for the record? She's as pissed off as anyone by the "vax and relax" shift in public health policy (pushed by McKinsey Consulting, no less), because the vaccines were not good enough. Masking, ventilation, testing and isolating the sick was the only safe approach. But it wasn't convenient. So vax and relax it was and here we all are. Still in the grips of a disabling disease but with a society in deep denial about the risks of getting infected. As always, humans going the easy route instead of the right one. We are not super-fans of how COVID has been handled. Quite the opposite. But again, there is a leap between that and the utter disregard for all evidence on any given subject.
Do I also need to explain to you how the earth is not flat? Or do you still trust experts' take on that? Cause this is the same. Damn. Thing. This is like asking how climate change is a thing if it still snows in January. You're just indicating how out of your depth you are and making logical-sounding conclusions based on a faulty understanding of the underlying science. And more and more people are buying into it. To succeed, liars don't need to convince you of their lie, they only have to make you doubt the truth. FoxNews, Facebook and now Twitter broke America by profiting off of that business model. "Engagement", they call it. And nobody is pushing back.
You're being played alright, but it's by the same charlatans that feed the Q-Anon pedophile myth and Great Replacement dog whistle. They don't trust anybody, cause everybody's in on it. Right? Wrong. They're just pining for attention, cash, influence, petty power. At the expense of their hapless followers.
It's unfortunate that you find the timing of your onset suspect. I’ve been looking - hard - for credible evidence about what you claim. It's just not there. Educated guesses are welcome: there's a lot we still don't understand about this disease. But educated guesses require a minimum of education. You can’t just throw around the words “spike protein” and call it a day. There is no run-away replication from a vaccine. That’s not how they work.
bUt eVeN dR VaUngH sAiD
Was that before or after he charged you 1000$ for a treatment that's costing me 45$ based on readily available and entirely generic anticoagulant drugs? Before or after he said masks were crippling kids? I'm grateful he's making TT available to people. I'm not impressed by his ethics, lack of rigour, and sales pitch. No more than by IncellDX for that matter. Great business model. Important service. Highly questionable ethic$.
I'm on TT because of the science underlying it. It's still just a hunch, but a good one. So we're trying it. Vaccine injury though? That's not based on a hunch - it's based on rumour. Fear. Distrust. Lies.
That echo chamber is no different than any other hysteria - in the absence of understanding, we revert to superstition. And vaccine hesitancy is based on one incredibly damaging myth that is spinning out of control. Even here. And that worries me for the future. Vaccines are likely going to be our only way out of this pandemic. If it's sterilizing and not everyone needs to be jabbed for me and my loved ones to be safe? I'll care not at all that your paranoia made you put your life at risk. hermaincainaward will simply get an uptick in nominees. But if it's one that requires a minimum amount of adoption to work, collectively? We're all going to have to have a serious sit-down. I'm tired of other people's ignorance putting my loved ones at risk. *Insert obligatory reference to the Climate Crisis*. If everyone knew the science of what's coming (soon), they'd be a lot more motivated in acting, aggressively, immediately, collectively. The truth matters.
So yeah, this post is going to make a lot of suffering people angry. And that sucks. But it's a helluva lot better than just letting anti-science disinformation keep gaining ground, post by post, comment by comment. Someone has to fight back and scientists are always too incredulous to react: "do people actually believe this nonsense?" They do, Doc. They really do. And every one else has become too scared of the backlash to speak out.
Mods, you’re going to have to take a stand at some point. There are enough haunts for conspiracy nuts on Facebook, Twitter, Discord and Reddit. I came here for help. For moral support, for potential treatments, for peer review. By peers that have better judgement than to just assume a vaccine they don't understand is what plunged them into hell and then agitate against hard facts.
That misguided agitation does not bring me comfort. It makes me despair. Science is our only hope and here we have a growing segment of our community dismissing the science in the name of anecdote and political bias. You think the vaccine did this to you? You're entitled to your opinion. You're not entitled to spreading lies as though they were hard fact. At least have enough humility to qualify your broad statements with "I worry that" or "is this even possible".
To those activists who insist on doubling down, give me some valid authoritative medical evidence or STFU. I can be swayed, but not by rants and baseless supposition.
We’ve got some serious work to do and your misdirected rage is not helping.

CABIN ROAD is the gateway to paradise. But why does this feel like a path to hell? I smash into a tall pine tree that stands in the middle of the otherwise straight gravel road. I've gone around it hundreds of times before. But now, my fingers are firmly gripped on the steering wheel, disregarding all my commands. Have I become paralyzed? A potato is wobbling on the dashboard, having obviously leaped out of the potato crates in the back seat. Jack gets out and strides to the front bumper. His lips press into a thin line as he appraises the destruction and cost of fixing it. Nothing should hold him back from swearing. But he maintains his composure, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The memory of thirty years of marriage fills my mind. I question whether this man has drugged me. A fleeting thought that he might have crashed the car surfaces, but it seems too much of a stretch. I take a deep breath and try to clear my head. In the rear-view mirror, Jack gets an axe from the trunk. He comes and gazes at me from my window, his eyes looking heavy and weary—like two precious pearls inside their oyster-like shells. I straighten and open the window: “Thank goodness it wasn't worse.” “I'll chop it down.” “That’s a pretty big tree, Jack.” Jack blinks several times. “I do have a chainsaw...” “Yes.” I wonder what stories this tree has witnessed during its lifetime. Will we see the marks of our journey on its rings? There’s always something that gets squeezed in tighter, begging to be unraveled. “I'll drive you to the cabin and grab the chainsaw,” Jack says. “Prepare some coffee while I'm gone.” Our short passage to the cabin around the bend is like shifting through the fog of memory. I'm in the kitchen. My fingers clench around the coffee tin can and spoon. Bewilderment engulfs my brain. I spot Jack with his saw. He slips around the corner, the curve of his bottom visible through his tight work trousers. I feel anxious about the crash. Did I deliberately hit the tree? The measuring spoon slips from my hand. It drops onto the floor along with the tin can. I clean up the mess. Could someone drive into a tree on purpose? Accidents do happen after all. It's fascinating to see him take on this role of being so chivalrous. Far away from his academic duties. As the chainsaw outside whines, I scroll through social media on my phone. People arguing about something or other makes me tired. I pick up a copy of Science magazine from the coffee table and scan through an article titled “Quantum Communication Across Interstellar Space,” authored by Jack. As usual, the details go right over my head. I like to amuse myself with the idea that it speaks about communicating with individuals who have passed away. Billy's message pops up. He asks for money for a fishing trip with his buddies somewhere in Lapland. I am more than happy to support him since he’s enlisting in the army soon in July. My big boy. I tell him about the car crash, and he gives me advice about a car repair store. Jack comes back earlier than expected. He plops into his seat, sweat beading on his forehead and the smell of resin emanating from him. He seems disappointed. I pour coffee to the brim. “Did the saw get stuck?” Jack shakes his head and adds sugar to his mug. “It got shattered under the tree. I stumbled...” Silence descends slowly, like dust. “My helmet cracked.” “Do you want me to buy new parts when I go to the store?” “No need.” “But there's pruning and cutting to do first.” Jack takes a bite out of a cinnamon bun. “I can sharpen the axe.” “Ask the neighbors for help, that's what they're for. You can also mow the lawn while I'm away.” “The grass is already short— it'll die off.” “You don't want ticks taking over! Think about your mother's joint pain. She would roll in her grave if—” “Cremated?’ “Yes!” My answer is like a flyswatter, leaving no room for further discussion or quantum physics. Jack is busy chewing on the bun. His regular coffee breaks, which have become part of his daily routine in his sixties, have honed impressive jowls. We enjoy our coffee and stare at the lake. Calm as a mirror. I have a feeling Jack will soon suggest fishing. As I gather my things to leave, I call to him: “Don't hurt yourself. Should I bring more buns?” “I was thinking of skipping the sugar and wheat...” I simply smile in reply. “Can you refuel the car?” Jack asks. I'm already off. The door slams shut in the middle of his sentence, but Jack knows better than to expect a response. I jump into the driver's seat and immediately notice forgotten potato baskets in the back seat, but my mind drifts away before I can do anything about it. As I pass by our old well, I remember that we need to discuss connecting the cabin to a new water source. No matter what it costs, it needs to be done. Why should I agree to be responsible for our running water anymore? I collide with something hard. Airbags abruptly inflate around me, disorienting me as my vision blurs. Struggling to escape from the tangled mess of seatbelts and inflatable bags, it feels like I'm an old person trying to climb out of a bouncy castle. My gaze rests on the scene before me, but my thoughts can't understand it. I have plowed into a tree stump. The tree stretches over the ditch. Nearby the chainsaw lies crushed. The cutting chain is nowhere to be found. I get back in the car. Should I phone Jack for an urgent call? Inhaling slowly helps me stay calm. Why didn’t he mention the tree stump? Someone taps on my window I jump and my neck stiffens up. I reach for the window switch. “I should have told you about...” Jack says. “The stump?” “Didn't you see the tree on the ground?” “I'm sorry. I was daydreaming.” “Great galaxy, Hazel! You're burning through our last savings as if money grew on trees!” Jack is being truly authentic with me. I stare back at him like some big-eyed exotic species from Madagascar that I can't identify in all this chaos. Jack opens the door and starts to put the cushion back in its place. We turn on the engine, giving the accelerator a test ride. “Let's go to a repair shop. I'm sure our insurance will cover this,” Jack suggests. “We can say that we had an accident with a reindeer.” “You're supposed to report it to the police or game warden if you hit an animal,” I reply. Jack pauses for a moment. He then reverses and drives forward again, but when he looks into the rear-view mirror, he slams on the brakes. “I have a better plan.” He retrieves an orange towing strap from the trunk, a burst of determination on his face. He connects the stump and the tow hook. “Get ready. We’re going to take a quantum leap here.” We buckle our seat belts with a single click as we prepare for the inevitable disaster. We had already made so many mistakes together, starting with raising our children—though sometimes failing was just part of parenting. Jack revs up the engine. A sudden lurch forward, then Jack howls in pain as the stump smashes through the rear window, clambering through the seats and lodging itself onto the gearbox, trapping Jack's hand. He veers off toward the ditch. The Milky Way spins around us, potatoes fly in the air and suddenly, all is quiet. We find ourselves upside down—surrounded by earthy potatoes and broken glass. I try to break the silence: “I just remembered: Billy's friend can repair cars at the vocational school much cheaper.” Jack looks so pale, his face almost white. I guess he’s contemplating the next step. Through the cracked windshield, I see the chainsaw chain lying in the ditch. How did it come to be rusting away? Maybe everything will go back to normal if we sit here and wait. It feels almost as if we are flying in outer space, my nerves slowly calming down. But then a sudden stillness strikes that is anything but soothing. “Jack, I’m feeling a bit dizzy…” No answer. “Jack...” I snap open my eyes and the scene in front of me has changed drastically. It’s like I’ve been sucked into some kind of surreal void. I hear a tapping noise on the window. An apology and then a loud thud; a huge rock has been hurled through the glass. A stench of strong aftershave ferments around me. A burly arm reaches across to release the seatbelt. An elderly man growls something crude, nothing like Jack's usual scout-like words. My eyes close as I'm being cradled away, and visions of Jack's mathematics and symbols flicker around in my mind. Is the soul truly free when there is no force of gravity to pull us down? I don't know who my savior is, but I can sense his worry as his face reddens. He is in military garb. I come to as I feel my head thudding against the rubble. Instantly, I yearn to run away, contemplating that perhaps this experience is only a dream, and I'm back in the cabin chamber, tucked securely underneath a cosy blanket. A blanket that grants me the power to perform heroic acts like disappearing in a puff of smoke. “Are you okay?” he speaks in a familiar voice. Fingers brush over my clothes, picking out pieces of glass. My pocket contains an odd bulge—a potato? Suddenly, everything clicks: an aged Billy, wearing a major's rank insignia. How could he have achieved that rank so fast? “Son, what are you doing on this tree ring?” Billy peers at me from across the way, accompanied by a mysterious female figure. “We came to check on how you're doing,” Billy says. “Do you remember what happened?” I raise my head and look around. There's nobody in the driver's seat of the car. “Where is Jack?” I manage. Billy furrows his brows like a detective would when weighing evidence. An image of the classic TV show Columbo flashes through my mind—he could lull suspects into a false sense of security before dropping the hammer of his sharp intellect on their inconsistencies. But I'm not hiding anything here. Though why are modern shows so bad? That's another mystery entirely. “Mom, what were you doing out here? The road is an absolute disaster zone, with the car smashed up in the ditch.” My thoughts swim haphazardly as Billy reads something from my expression, then casts his eyes towards his new girlfriend for assistance. I try to get up but it hurts too much. Instead, I reach into my pocket and feel a sandy-sharp potato there. Maybe I can still wash it off. “I’m fine,” I reply. “I need to get back to plowing the field... baking buns for Jack... buying a chainsaw...” The darkness returns and I feel my body shiver. I'm in the car, traveling down bumps I've known for quite some time. Soon, I’m settled inside the cabin's living room on the couch. The coffee maker is gurgling in the corner of the room. Billy is on a call with a doctor about how to deal with grief and coping alone; it seems someone had died while cutting down a tree last year. He gets furious and threatens to take away the keys from the person he's talking to. It might be a good idea; many people have too many keys that they don't use anyway. My head is spinning with thoughts about Jack's absence. Where did he go? Someone runs water over potatoes while a pot clatters on the stovetop. My temper rises as I wait for Jack's return. I won't stay here by myself without an explanation from him. I call out for Jack until there's no sound left but my coughing voice. I crave sausage soup, and I know I must go to the store. As I try to move forward, I am wading through tar. They guide me to the coffee table. According to Jack, time runs faster the more hunched your back becomes. Let it be and let us sit here, motionless, gazing at the tips of our shoes. Surely, time has slowed down in this moment. Billy reaches out and takes my hand. A handsome, greying gentleman. His girlfriend also places her hand on top of the pile. Her name is Ewa. A beautiful name, something familiar about her. But did I hear her calling me mother? In the yard, a squirrel hops with a cone in its mouth. It freezes and stares at me. I avert my gaze. My hands suddenly look wrinkled. I summon the inner strength that I've been striving to find for an eternity: “Do we have to leave now?” Billy exchanges glances with Ewa and then looks outside. “You don't have to walk this path alone, Mother.” We finish our coffee without saying another word. The wind sweeps across the lake. A pair of swans take flight, and a duet of gentle honks echo across the water. A shivering cold envelops me. Billy and Ewa take me to the car. The potatoes can wait. The sun blazes brightly above us as we travel the cabin road; shapeless clouds dot the horizon and suddenly I sense a presence—as if someone is waving to me. I surrender. I believe I will be warmly welcomed.

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Hey there ReddX gang, it looks like I finally got a bit of time to write, so let’s not delay any longer and get into another story about Chris.
Who is Chris? Chris is a very fat and sweaty man surrounded by an impenetrable aura of poopycum stinkystank. He is a grotesque goblin content to dwell in his own personal dark triad of meth, anime, and lot lizards. Chris and I both used to work for a trucking company – a major one – and him and I would take turns driving our big rig down the road. Things were usually okay when Chris was driving, but when Chris’s shift would come to an end, or worse yet, when we would pull over for the night, Chris would find himself free to do Chris things. You know the things. Then, despite my best efforts to make him bathe and behave, it was all in vain, and we would descend just a little bit further into madness. Thankfully, I no longer have to ride with Chris.
Last installment we were introduced to Christina. Do you not know who Christina is? Well, maybe you should go and look up that last post, or better yet, go and listen to the narration of it as done by our good pal ReddX. Christina really was the feminine counterpart to the poopycum man. Well, after some sly maneuvering, I managed to escape the clutches of this wily bovine.
Now, I woke up the following morning to find both truck doors still locked and I thanked myself that my comfortable sanctuary had not been breached in the night by the poopycum people. I looked at my clock and realized that we were getting a bit late in the morning and that we needed to get on the road. Begrudgingly, I got out of bed, put on my shoes, and went out into the travel plaza to locate the gruesome twosome. I didn’t have to go far. I found Chris and his sister outside of the convenience store, wolfing down microwaved carbs, grease, and high fructose corn syrup like they a couple pigs in a trough. I came up, Chris dismissively remarking hey, and Christina replying with a sultry “good morning honker donkers” which I ignored. I turned to Chris, pretending his sister didn’t exist, and said, “we gotta get on the road, dude. Are you ready?” He shoved half a hot dog down into his mouth as if to deep throat the thing and said, “yeah, let’s go. Come on Christina.”
We all got back to the truck and I jumped in the passenger seat first that morning, taking us out of our parking space and further down the road. I figured I’d get my drive time out of the way first so that I could make my money without having to fight with Chris, and alternatively, if Christina drove the afternoon, I could spend it in relative peace without fear of molestation. Of course, that first shift was hell. Christina was still in heat – swampy, musky heat – and kept trying to coo her way into giving me road head. Thankfully, Chris was still the same scum that he was from yesterday and made things too awkward even for the beast beside me for her to make her moves. Every time she got a little too close to me, I’d find some way to rouse Chris’s attention and he would fluster her with his incestuous masturbatory desires.
When my shift finally came to an end, I got up and headed to the back to relax in my bunk while Chris and Christina fought over the driver’s seat. Chris shouted, “dude! I haven’t drove at all this whole trip! I need to make money so I can get some new figures for my army. Get up Christina,” to which Christina replied, “shove it. Just ask dad for some money. I wanna drive the truck.” Well, Chris wasn’t having it. I guess dad had been cutting him off as of late and gave the landwhale a hard shove, sending her careening into the side of the truck, causing the whole rig to rock back and forth. She came back and lunged at Chris and they started throwing blows at each other. I didn’t intervene, of course. I sincerely doubted either of them had the required upper body strength to actually injure the other. No, I let them get tired. Christina gave up first and said, “fine! Drive the damn truck! I’ll just go hang out with honker donkers.” At this, my ears perked up, I got up from my bunk, and plopped down in the passenger seat – a place only big enough for one person mind you – and Christina cast me a sour look. She knew I didn’t want to be anywhere near her, but that didn’t seem to stop her from still trying to put on the moves. With a dejected sigh, she waddled towards the back, and I screamed, “you better not lay down on my bunk,” and she said, “fuck you, I’m not going to lay in your bed.” Chris did his pre-drive checklist before casting a glance over to me, mumbling, “women, am I right or what, bro,” before putting his phone on the dongle and pressing play. We pulled onto the road to the throaty cries of “nani? Baka!”
As we drove, I did my best to ignore the people about me, grateful that I was safe with Chris driving the truck. I descended into my book as best I could while the poopycum man took us down the road. I was doing a good job pretending I wasn’t there, of course, but it certainly didn’t last forever. Somewhere around the hour mark, however, a symphony of squeaking bedsprings arrested my attention. Chris even looked away from his podcast for a minute and locked eyes with me, and we exchanged a what the fuck moment. Cautiously, I looked over my shoulder towards the back of the cab.
The ham planet had made herself comfortable in my bed, alright. Too comfortable. Her languid, throaty breaths punctuated the awkward scene before me. Her swollen red ass was firmly planted on my bed and she sat there, one hand lifting up her sagging belly, the other fondling her yawning crevasse. She smiled coyly as she saw that I had turned around and motioned for me to approach, but I did not dare to do so. I recoiled in absolute disgust, letting out a “what the Hell are you doing?” Chris swerved a bit at my outburst but managed to stay on the road. My disgust only elevated exponentially when I saw that the hand that touched her rancid cooch held something in it. “What the fuck is that?”
She smiled wryly as she held up a dirty old sock, and I practically gagged. She replied, “Even if you don’t come here inside me, I’ve got your come inside me.” I dry-heaved for a moment as Chris said, “what the Hell is going on back there?” Pale as a ghost, I mumbled, “dude, she’s masturbating with an old sock.” Chris swerved again. “Oh fuck. Christina, where did you get that sock?”
Things got real quiet real fast. Christina mumbled, “I got it off of honker donker’s laundry hamper. I can tell he must have been thinking about me when he used it.” I shuddered. I don’t beat off into socks in the back of the truck cab, and even if I had done it, I certainly hadn’t done it today. Whatever hypothetical cum sock she had found would have been long dried up from the night before if I had made one. No, somebody else’s cum was on that sock. She smiled wryly as she lifted it up and played with a sticky strand of goo that adhered to the fabric before pulling her fingers down to her snatch and I gagged.
“Christina,” I said slowly, “that isn’t my sock.” She retorted, “don’t lie, it was on your hamper,” and I practically yelled at Chris “why are you throwing your cum socks in my laundry basket, bro?” Chris said, “I didn’t throw a cum sock in your laundry basket honker donkers, for fuck’s sake. What the Hell is Christina doing back there?” I described the scene to Chris, telling him, “well, she must have found a cumsock of yours from today and she’s rubbing it into her ax wound.” Christina paused for a minute, a strand of that goopy jizz hanging from her lips to the sock and I practically threw up. I rolled down the window and heaved for a minute as the gravity of the situation was dawning on me. Christina had grabbed one of Chris’s cumsocks, thinking that somehow it was mine and still had a trace of viable seed on it, and began rubbing it into her vagoo.
Christina cooed, “what’s wrong, honker donkers? I’m sure you taste even better when you’re fresh,” and I practically shouted, “That’s Chris’s sock!” Things got real quiet as the gravitas of the situation kicked in for both Chris and Christina. Christina instantly flew into a rage, throwing down the cumsock and waddling up behind the driver’s seat and began to beat Chris on the back of the head. The truck swerved left and right, and I started yelling, “Chris! Brakes!” I pressed the hazards and grabbed the wheel while he tried to shield his head and slowly decelerate us to a stop while Christina screeched about how Chris had just raped her. The whole deceleration, Chris was pummeled by his sister’s hamfists, until we finally made it to the shoulder of the road with the hazards on. The whole time, Christina, half-naked and shrieking, accused Chris of having tricked her into inseminating herself with his poopysplooge.
Chris got up from where he sat and started to throw blows against his sister, the useless and ineffectual impacts of each combatant wailing upon each other’s heads with little to no actually damage inflicted. I figured they would tire themselves out eventually, and when things finally did settle down, Christina collapsed into a sobbing, half-naked mess, still clutching the gnarly sock that contained her brother’s fetid ejaculate. She lifted up a corner of it and used to wipe a tear that trickled down her cheek. Across from her, Chris stared ahead for a thousand miles, comatose and catatonic.
I didn’t break the silence. I just listened to the wails in meditative silence. Finally a choked sob came from Christina. “You’re… you’re just messing with me, right?” I came back hard and unapologetic. “At what time between then and now did you think I went into the back and rubbed one out? In the two minutes you guys were fighting over the driver’s seat, did you think I whipped it out and spanked it? I’m not gross like either of you two.” The wails intensified. Chris continued to gaze into the abyss, wondering just what in the Hell had led to this culmination of events. When things started to calm down, Christina whined and sniveled and said, “well, what happens now?”
I remarked that she should probably go head to a hospital and get checked for STDs. I mentioned Chris’s long history of having unprotected sex with truck stop tutes, which he fervently denied in the moment, calling me a liar, but I persisted and said that that was the best course of action for her. She should probably go get checked out. She curled into a ball in the back while Chris looked at me with a scowl and said, “dude, I can’t believe you’re telling lies about me like that. Why would I ever sleep with a prostitute bro? I’m an alpha pussy magnet.” I said, “whatever, fat boy, get back in the driver’s seat and get your sister to the hospital so they can take a look at her.”
Begrudgingly, he got up from where he sat and got to the driver’s seat, starting the truck up again and taking us off the shoulder in a tense and awkward silence. Not even the cries of “nani? Baka!” serenaded us as we went down the road, the gravitas of such a situation apparent to even one poopycum man who was otherwise oblivious about everything. We rode for about an hour before we finally came off the interstate on the of Amarillo, and Chris drove us into a hospital. Christina got up from the back and sullenly walked towards the hospital entrance while Chris and I sat there in quiet.
We exchanged a look between each other, a silent, “so what do we do now,” before Chris mumbled, “I guess I’ll call in to dispatch and let them know what’s going on.” I replied that that would be the best, and so Chris picked up the radio receiver and Chris told dispatch, verbatim, “hey, uh, dispatch, this is Chris, and we’ve had to stop at a hospital. I guess my sister found one of my cum socks and used it to masturbate and now she needs to get checked out because she’s worried about STDs or something.” The line crackled in awkward silence. I tried not to cackle with laughter. He could have stopped at “I had to drop my sister off at the hospital” and that was that. Well, it took about a minute to get a response. I’m sure dispatch was wondering just what the Hell Chris was even talking about, and trying to come to terms with that awkward sentence he had given them. Eventually, dispatch got back to us. They wanted to know how long we would be. Chris said there was no current ETA at the moment.
Eventually, we were told to sit tight, and Chris and I sat back in the truck, letting the hours whittle away while we waited for Christina to get checked out. He was a man of few words then, just repeating to himself, “I can’t believe this happened,” and “god, my sister is such a stupid slut.” I couldn’t disagree on either of those points, of course, and so I held my tongue too. We must have sat in that lot for several hours, before Chris shot upright and yelled, “it’s not fair!”
I didn’t reply. Something was bothering the big guy, obviously, and I wasn’t about to invite it out of him because I didn’t give a damn. He launched into a rant about how he never wanted to take his stupid sister out on the road anyway because women don’t know how to drive trucks and she was a disgusting beast who shouldn’t have masturbated with his laundry and now he was gonna be late for the drop off which was eating into his time for roaming the lots looking for drugs and lizards. All these things were true, but like I said, the last thing I wanted to do was encourage him. When finally he tuckered himself out with all his whining and complaining, he collapsed into the driver’s seat once again in sullen silence. I have anticipated for him to start up, again. Quietly, he mumbled, “so, do you think she’s gonna keep it?”
I was mortified at the thought. Another hour passed in awkward silence before we could see Christina come barreling down the parking lot towards the truck. When she hoisted herself into the cab, the truck lurched under her weight and she came in, sullen faced and more disturbed than ever. I didn’t ask her what happened, but Chris was eager to know. The short summary is that the hospital gave her something called prep, which is basically a medicine to guard against HIV infection, and a morning after pill for her to take on her own time. When Chris heard the mention of the morning after pill, he started up, “so you’re just gonna kill our baby like that?” Christina loudly voiced what everyone was thinking. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Chris? Ugh, god forbid if anything even took root, of course I’m going to kill it.”
This precipitated a long argument as Chris pulled us out of the lot, shouting over his shoulder that his sister was a disgusting infanticidal sow and that it was morally repugnant for her to terminate the life of a small child, even, yes, if it was forged in the poopycum passion of a serial molester’s mistake. I let this get more and more heated, of course. I wanted it to end, don’t get me wrong, but at this point, I was banking on them becoming so antagonistic to each other that either Chris or Christina quiet and I could continue the night in relative peace. The good lord must have been listening to my prayer that evening, because eventually Christina shouted, “screw you! I’m calling daddy!” and she whipped out her phone to call her father.
She ranted into the mouthpiece that Chris was a disgusting subhuman troglodyte (accurate) and that he was also a gross pervert (also a fact) and that she didn’t think she could hack the trucking lifestyle if she had to copilot with Chris. Her father, doting on daddy’s girl, I can only assume, responded something, and she continued, “fine, I’ll be there in an hour.” She turned to Chris in a huff and told him to take her to the airport. My reprieve had come. Chris didn’t do that, though. He pulled over the truck, told her to go screw herself with a used splooge sock, and that she could walk home. Christina did get out of the truck, presumably to call a cab.
I never did encounter Christina again, but according to Chris’s reckoning, their dad placed her in another truck to learn under someone else, and my heart went out for that poor soul who inevitably was sexually assaulted by her discolored nipnops and yeasty odor. Thankfully, no poopycum child was ever forged by Christina’s spoiled eggs and Chris’s stagnant seed, either, because that, my friends, would have truly been an abomination against all that is holy. I don’t know if Christina got the clap or the herp or any of that, but my best is safely on, yes, it happened.
After she left, Chris and I were surprisingly sympatico for the next two days. I almost felt a debt to the poopycum man for saving me from his sister’s sexual wiles by way of his own disgusting degenerate nature, but I never expressed it. The last thing I wanted him to think was that I was approving of him jacking off in the truck again and giving him carte blanche to do so. We never spoke of her again, though from time to time, when I would walk through the yard office back in California, I would catch the odd wafting fragrance of curdling yeast and wondered if Christina actually did manage to get herself into a company truck. I would not be surprised.
And that, my friends, concludes today’s installment, but don’t you guys a worry, because even though the real world is calling my name, I’ll be back in the not too distant future with yet another story about everyone’s favorite opprobrious little cumstain, Chris.

Whats everyones favorite bead build when fighting bosses? I’m on NG+ Penitence of a Bleeding heart and what i have below has been melting bosses (Isidor and Sierpes on the first go):
Prayer: Tiento to your Thorned Hairs

1. Cloistered Ruby
2. Pelican Effigy
3. Bead of Red Wax
4. Bead of Blue Wax
5. Embers of a Broken Star
6. Crown of Gnawed Iron
7. Fourth Toe Made of Limestone
8. The Young Masons Wheel

This whole month when I wasn’t looking at my screen working I was looking at my screen finalizing wedding details. The result was that I have been looking at a screen during all waking hours. I have one more motion to get out today, but my eyes are literally to the point where I am squinting from irritation from the dryness every time I look at a screen. I don’t know what I’m looking for here, maybe emotional support? Maybe medical advice or suggestions? Prayers? How do you deal?
Edit: I have tried five different types of eyedrops, two different blue light glasses, and gone to an optometrist 😅

Pt. 1 here
Pt. 2 here
Pt. 3 (chapter 1) here
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(Script masterlist here)
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Author’s note: Another part of Val to celebrate another milestone! I haven’t even been here for 4 months yet, and I already got to enjoy over 150 fantastic fills of my scripts! I recently hit 500 Karma as well, and as of right now have about 70 people following me on reddit- You guys are insane! I genuinely appreciate every single person who reads my scripts, and I still get incredibly excited over every upvote and every video that has my name in the description. It feels so surreal to know that people not only enjoy my writing, but like it enough to give it their voice and time…
I know less people might see this note here, but Val has been such a huge part of my existence as a script writer. It’d feel wrong to celebrate with anything else!
Tldr; You are absolutely amazing!
​
Now to the script:
~1.500 words/ 10-17 mins Audio
For the girls: The names will have to be adapted. ‘Lucian’ mentioned in this script becomes ‘Lucia’, unless you plan on collabing with somebody or don’t want to use the additional chapters in part 3!
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Usage: Everything goes, as long as you give credit! Adjust wording, change stuff, improvise, add or remove scenes, make it nsfw if you want. For any questions, feel free to ask! Have fun! :D
Monetization/paywall is ok, but I’d appreciate being sent a free copy!
Sfx optional but it enhances the experience, if you have access.
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Setting: lush castle gardens, later: vast ballroom
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sometimes I use … for very short pauses (easier to read)
[these are for sfx, vocal cues, actions or other remarks]
italics are for emphasising a word
— — —
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There you are!
I was getting worried about you…
Are you feeling well? You look a bit pale, my Dear…
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[short pause]
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Oh my, you seem as though you are shaking!
I suppose the air has cooled down quite a bit.
Let us get back inside to warm you up again, Dear.
I apologise for leaving you out here, all alone…
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[sfx: continuous gentle footsteps on grass, as the characters walk back towards the ballroom. Music is getting slightly closer as they walk]
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I owe you an apology for storming off earlier.
I did not mean for it to happen in this way, but Lucian is not one who enjoys waiting.
Had I been late, I would have gotten lectured again.
And I did not want you to wait even longer out here, all by yourself.
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[short pause]
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I did not get to tell you earlier.
But this event is, in reality, an annual birthday celebration.
…
I suppose, by now, it has become more of a vampire meet-up, to talk to old friends and make new connections.
Since, for vampires, befriending humans is usually not a good idea, as their life spans differ so much.
And most vampires would not want to pressure a human they like, into giving up their mortality.
Here, such decisions do not have to be made anymore.
But in and of itself, the original purpose of this festivity was to celebrate Lucian’s birthday.
Therefore, it is expected to pay a visit to the host, if you attend.
This tradition has been taking place for nearly a whole millenia.
…
The first guests in this castle must have worn elaborately embroidered, beaded and jewelled robes. While the guards must have been in shining suits of armour…
A time before even gas lamps were invented and all light must have come from candles and wooden torches, scattered throughout the rooms.
To think that these very walls once contained fantastic kings and queens, elegant lords and ladies, formidable knights and rulers of the lands… And Lucian among them.
Even for a vampire as myself, it is near impossible to imagine just how long Lucian has been roaming this earth for.
My life has merely been the tiniest fraction of it.
…
How many human lifetimes it would take to get even close to it… How many generations of people must have risen and fallen in this time… All those wars that have been fought…
[small sigh]
That is why I wished for you to stay away, my Dear.
Elder vampires may have better control over their urges, but it is all too easy to lose sight of one's humanity, after having been alive for such a long time.
A human lifespan turns into that of a pet mouse by comparison. Less, even.
Lucian may seem like one of the better behaved guests here.
Especially with such a charming face, but it has been carefully crafted. A mask, shaped by centuries of manipulation and deception…
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[short pause]
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You see, I do not visit this festivity very often. But I wanted to show you what it means to be a vampire. Since that is still a part of who I am.
…
Lucian has been my mentor for a whole century, and the only reason I am here now, to begin with.
Even if that was a time I would rather forget…
It shaped me, made the person you see before you now.
These very gardens used to be my home, after I was turned. Their beauty has always inspired me.
Just as yours does now, my Dear.
…
Maybe this means it is finally time for me to move on…
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[sfx: footsteps on grass stop as they enter the ballroom again. Music is now at a constant level, not too loud]
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Here we are again. Take a moment to get your eyes used to the lights.
It may not be too bright, but it still is a somewhat sudden change in scenery, my Dear.
…
Once you have warmed up a little, how would you feel about dancing?
This is a ball, after all. And it would be a great pleasure, to get to enjoy such an opportunity with you.
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[short pause]
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[pleased, smiling:] Thank you, my Dear. You do not know how happy this makes me.
Your presence alone is a gift to me.
In the entirety of my lifetime, I never expected a person as kind and warm as you, to ever cross my path.
You bring me more joy and comfort than anything else has ever been able to.
If you ever feel as though you are not enough, my Dear, simply remember; to me, you are a miracle.
You are more than I could ever have hoped for.
…
And if I had to wait another two hundred years for the mere possibility of meeting you again, I would.
In a heartbeat, I would devote my life to waiting, every single day, so I could see you again. Even for just the briefest of moments…
I would wait for a millenia, if you asked me to.
It would be worth it, to hear even a single word from your lovely mouth again.
…
You, my Dear, have enchanted me in a way I have never felt before.
I cannot say whether it is ‘love’ quite yet. Only how much I wish for it to be.
But it is with honesty that I can say, your presence means more to me, than merely your blood, my Dear…
…
But oh… I am rambling again-
Before I met you, I would have considered myself to be rather quiet.
But somehow… despite your presence leaving me breathless, I cannot stop myself from talking. [small chuckle]
…
I am glad to see you do not seem to mind it.
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[short pause]
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Ah, do you feel ready to dance?
You look less pale than before. I hope it is because you feel better, rather than my words leaving you flustered, my Dear.
May I reach for your hand?
…
Oh my, it is so soft and gentle.
You have very nice hands, my Dear. I never noticed.
Perhaps I was too captivated by the rest of you.
Your eyes, especially.
I have never seen such a beautiful pair before. The colour of them is utterly fascinating.
I try not to get lost in them too often, since I would not want you to think I am staring.
But they are quite entrancing… Relaxing, almost. As is the rest of you…
I feel quite comfortable with you, my Dear.
Warm. Hopeful, even…
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[short pause]
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We have not been this close very often, have we, my Dear?
To simply be enveloped by your scent like this… I must admit, it is quite nice.
Feeling your warm body against mine.
Each heartbeat of yours, against my chest…
I find it quite comforting.
I hope you enjoy it as well.
And your dancing is quite exquisite, too.
Such graceful steps.
It almost feels as though we are simply floating through the ballroom.
As though everyone else is merely an illusion…
I wish this moment could last forever, my Dear.
Only you and me, with nothing else to worry about.
Would it not just be peaceful?
…
Well… forever would truly be a long time.
Perhaps you would get bored after a while.
Or begin to miss the smell of grass, the taste of baked goods, the feeling of warm rain on your skin…
But if you asked me to, I could organise such dances, as well.
Only the two of us.
Or we could invite friends - even strangers, if you preferred.
We could also simply stay at home and watch movies, or dance to the sound of our favourite music in the living room.
Whatever you wish, my Dear.
…
If you would rather keep living in your own home and simply meet me once a month, I would also not mind.
I will treasure any amount of time I get to spend with you.
However much or little that may be.
I would spare no expense to get you a new apartment, house, or personal villa if you requested. Nothing is off-limits for me.
Anything you ask for shall be yours.
And please, do not shy away from making requests.
Money is no factor for me. The only thing I truly care about is your utmost happiness.
I deeply care for you, my Dear.
And a person as wonderful as you deserves to be happy.
Whatever that happiness may look like for you.
…
Of course, I would prefer, if I were a part of this happiness. But even if I am not, I will do what I can, for you.
Whatever you wish for me to do.
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[sfx: small thump of character being pulled into a hug? Cloth shuffling? Hug noises, optional: slow and quiet heartbeat if the character is meant to be taller]
[voice is slightly muffled, because of hug]
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Oh? Do you need to sit down for a moment, my Dear?
Surely, you must be feeling dizzy-
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[short pause]
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A hug…?
What is it you are embracing me for?
I did not say anything wrong, did I?
Are you certain you feel alright, my Dear…?
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[short pause]
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[soft sigh, giving in to the hug]
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I must admit, this does feel quite reassuring…
Thank you, my Dear.
You are always so kind to me.
I do not remember the last time a person has held me like this…
Would it be okay if we were to stay in this position a little longer…?
​
[sfx continue for a little, then fadeout]