Cosmic Funnies
RMH
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
Origami Around
shark vs the universe
Mike Driver
Love Begins
Keni
đŞź
No title available
almost home
No title available
if i look back, i am lost
KIROKAZE
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
No title available
occasionally subtle
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from United States
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Belgium
@astilbegremlin
Bread
Hunger is manâs enemy;
A caress on the mind.
To the basement, it came
With it a glutenous rind.
With Jon, it now rests.
To finish it was a task.
Until a fateful sighting
And so Bee must ask:
Why is there bread?
And I heed they give no pets.
Again, why? And I tell a want
To see how crispy it gets.
This may seem normal,
And yet there is more for the mind:
For what is in the bathroom?
That glutenous rind.
Fuck you Iâll reblog it cuz itâs an elephant strawberry I need no other reason
good things will happen đ§ż
things that are meant to be will fall into place đ§ż
THIS ONE FUCKING WORKS. REBLOG IT.
Okay I reblogged and got into the entrepreneurship program I wanted. This WORKS
Reblogging for some added help for the coming months
I need some good energy maybe hope something good will happen this year
If I donât see each and every single one of you reblogging this, I swear to god
This user is very fucking Jewish and hates all fucking Nazis and Anti-Semites! :D
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And yâall better get off this userâs blog if you donât hate all fucking Nazis and Anti-Semites! :DD
this is the strawberry chihuahua of prosperity, reblog to have a bountiful and delicious 2018
a study.
hi im gelldust um call me angel. im a whore. i like hazbin/helluva thats fucking obvious. i make stupid comics with my characters like notoriously moronic hector j. vickers. rbs help a lot
ICONIC
I was gonna put this in my queue but tbh I think itâs more relevant right now.
Yeah.
REBLOG IF YOU LOVE DOGS
9 million people fucking love dogs
Here we come 10.
BREAK THE POST
BREAK THE POST
BREAK THE POST
Iâve finally found it again
the elusive 10 million note post
they say no two people reblog it with the same original text
ITâS BACK
LETâS GET TO 11 FRICKIN MILLION
so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now iâm thinkingâŚ.maybe this is the good luck post
âŚ..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
BecauseâŚ
I need a job
I need this.
Reblogged last year, hoping it comes this year
Irish people; The faeries arenât real
Irish people; No fucking way will I go in that faerie ring
#look#you donât go in a fairy ring and you donât fuck with a stone in the middle of a field#these are just facts#nobody does it#fairies will fuck you up#Ireland#folklore#fairies (Via @false-dawn)
Look, I donât believe in God, but I will not disrespect the Good Gentlemen of the Hills. Thatâs just common sense.
Between this and the Icelanders with their elves I do not understand what is going on above the 50th parallel.
My general rule of thumb: you donât have to believe in everything, but donât fuck with it, just in case.
^^^ that part
This is truer than true. Especially the Irish part.
Let me tell you what I know about this after living here for nearly thirty years.
This is a modern European country, the home of hot net startups, of Internet giants and (in some places, some very few places) the fastest broadband on Earth. People here live in this century, HARD.
Yet they get nervous about walking up that one hill close to their home after dark, because, you know⌠stuff happens there.
I know this because Peter and I live next to One Of Those Hills. There are people in our locality who wouldnât go up our tiny country road on a dark night for love or money. What they make of us being so close to it for so long without harm coming to us, I have no idea. For all I know, itâs ascribed to us being writers (i.e. sort of bards) or mad folk (also in some kind of positive relationship with the Dangerous Side: donât forget that the root word of âsillyâ, which used to be English for âcrazyâ, is the Old English _saelig_, âholyââŚ) or otherwise somehow weirdly exempt.
And you know what? Iâm never going to ask. Because one does not discuss such things. Lest people from outside get the wrong idea about us, about normal modern Irish people living in normal modern Ireland.
You hear about this in whispers, though, in the pub, late at night, when all the tourists have gone to bed or gone away and no one but the locals are around. That hill. That curve in the road. That cold feeling you get in that one place. There is a deep understanding that there is something here older than us, that doesnât care about us particularly, that (when we obtrude on it) is as willing to kick us in the slats as to let us pass by unmolested.
So you greet the magpies, singly or otherwise. You let stones in the middle of fields be. You apologize to the hawthorn bush when youâre pruning it. If you see something peculiar that cannot be otherwise explained, you are polite to it and pass onward about your business without further comment. And you donât go on about it afterwards. Because itâs⌠unwise. Not that you personally know any examples of people whoâve screwed it up, of course. But you donât meddle, and you learn when to look the other way, not to see, not to hear. Some things have just been here (for various values of âhereâ and various values of âbeenâ) a lot longer than you have, and will be here still after youâre gone. Thatâs the way of it. When you hear the story about the idiots who for a prank chainsawed the centuries-old fairy tree a couple of counties over, you say â if asked by a neighbor â exactly what theyâre probably thinking: âPoor fuckers. Theyâre doomed.â And if asked by anybody else you shake your head and say something anodyne about Kids These Days. (While thinking DOOMED all over again, because there are some particularly self-destructive ways to increase entropy.)
Meanwhile, in Iceland: the county council that carelessly knocked a known elf rock off a hillside when repairing a road has had to go dig the rock up from where it got buried during construction, because that road has had the most impossible damn stuff happen to it since that you ever heard of. Doubtless some nice person (maybe theyâll send out for the Priest of Thor or some such) will come along and do a little propitiatory sacrifice of some kind to the alfar, belatedly begging their pardon for the inconvenience.
Theyâre building the alfar a new temple, too.
Atlantic islands. Faerie: we haz it.
The Southwest is like this in some ways. You donât go traveling along the highways at night with an empty car seat. Because an empty car seat is an invitation. You stick your luggage, your laptop bag, whatever you got in that seat. Else something best left undiscussed and unnamed (because to discuss it by name is to go âAY WEâRE TALKING BOUT YA WEâRE HERE AND ALSO IGNORANT OF WHAT YOUâRE CAPABLE OFâ at the top of your damn lungs at them) will jump in to the car, after which youâre gonna have a bad time.
If youâre out in the woods, you keep constant, consistent count of your party and make sure you know everyone well enough that you can ID them by face alone, lest something imitating a person get at you. They like to insert themselves in the party and just observe before they strike. Itâs a game to them. In general you donât fuck with the weird, you ignore the lights in the sky (no, this isnât a god damn night vale reference, yes Iâm serious) and the woods, you lock up at night and you donât answer the door for love or money. Whatever or whoeverâs knocking ainât your buddy.
^ So much good advice in this post right here
I live in the south and⌠you just⌠donât go into the woods or fields at night.
Donât go near big trees in the night
If you live on a farm, donât look outside the windows at night
I have broken all these rules.
Iâve seen some shit.
If it sounds like your mom, but you didnât realize your mom is homeâŚ. itâs not your mom. Promise.
One walked onto the porch once. Wasnât fun. But theyâre not super keen on guns. Typically bolt when they see one.
You think itâs the neighbor kids.
Itâs not the neighbor kids.
Might sound like coyotes but you never really /see/ the coyotes but then wow that one cow was reaaaaaally fucked up this morning. The next night when you hear another one screaming you just turn the tv up a little more. Maybe fire a gun in the air but you donât go after it. If it is coyotes then itâs probably a pack and you seriously donât want to fuck with that and if itâs the other thing you seriously REALLY donât want to fuck with that.
So in the south, especially near the mountains, you just go straight from your car to inside your house, draw your curtains and watch tv.
If you see lights in the fields just fucking leave it alone.
Eyes forward. Donât be fucking stupid. Mind your own business. Call your neighbors and tell them to bring the cats in. Thereâs coyotes out. Some of them know. Most of them donât.
Other than that everythingâs a ghost and they died in the civil war. Literally all of everything else is just the civil war. We used to smell old perfume and pipe tobacco in the weeks leading up to the battle anniversaries.
Shitâs wild and I sound fucking crazy but I swear to god itâs true.
Every time this post comes around, itâs my favorite to open up the notes and read the stories. Probably shouldnât have since Iâm sleeping alone tonight, but you know, itâs fine. đ
Austrian girl here who has lived in Ireland for 5+ years. This shit is LEGIT. Iâve seen it with my own two Catholic eyes.Â
Sure, visit during the day. Thatâs alright as long as youâre respectful. But you couldnât PAY ME ENOUGH to go there at night. These are also the last places where you wanna start littering.Â
I grew up in southwest Pennsylvania which is a weird mixture of American cultures and environments. I was in the heavily forested mountains (northern Appalachia) but had lots and lots of corn fields and cow pastures. Like the Smoky Mountains and fields of Kansas combined. And being so cut off from a lot of the world, we had our fair share of ghost stories.
We had âwitchesâ in the mountains (more like ghost-women who will snatch you up by making you wander in a daze around the forest like the Blair Witch before killing you or letting you back out into society but youâre⌠different). Or devils in springs or abandoned wells (donât look too long into one or something will follow you).Â
But we also had the cornfield demons. Iâve witnessed this many times. Youâll be in the passenger seat looking out the window and see red glowing eyes in the cornfield. No light shining in that direction. Just two red dots a few inches apart faintly glowing in a pitch black cornfield. Theyâre not the glow of deer eyes in the headlights. More like the embers of a dying fire. Sometimes, as you drive away, youâll look out the back window or side mirror and you can see the eyes have moved to the edge of the corn field, still watching you. If you bring it up with the driver, theyâll call you paranoid, but grip the wheel a bit tighter and driver a little faster.
I was walking to a friendâs house one night. It was about 20 minutes down a dirt road with forest on one side and a cornfield on the other. Iâve walked past it many times and wasnât really concerned. My main worry was coming across a skunk or porcupine. I didnât have a flashlight because the moonlight was bright enough and I knew the walk really well. Then I saw the eyes. I immediately averted mine (because for some reason thatâs how to not annoy it) but they kept wandering back. They were still there, watching. I heard rustling and saw the eyes come closer and I took off running. I got to my friends without a scratch, but I was terrified. I mentioned it to my friend and thatâs when I found out it was A Thing. Her parents agreed and shared their stories. I brought it up more and almost everyone knew what I was talking about. It was a phenomenon a lot of folks around town experienced but never mentioned. To this day, I donât linger around poorly light cornfields at night.Â
@thedevilinthealchemy and I are very old friends. I used to live in the same town as her, in Southern California. One night, a few years ago, we were celebrating the end of finals and the start of winter break, and we just hanging out in her car, killing ourselves with late night Taco Bell. Well, we decide we donât want to go home just yet, so we start driving. We drive up a canyon, near her place. Now, we both had made this trip many, many times, in daylight and dark. A local tourist trap is in that canyon, and thereâs a shortcut to a college campus that goes through that canyon. It was a normal winter night in SoCal.Â
Well, about halfway through I start to get scared. For no reason. Within the span of two heartbeats I grew so terrified that my palms were shaking and my mouth was dry and for some reason I couldnât take my eyes off the wood to the driverâs side.Â
âTurn around.â I say, quickly.Â
âDude, already on it.â Kama said, doing a quick three point turn. I look in the mirror as sheâs pealing away and see the creature. It was vaguely humanoid, and hairless, with elongated limbs and pitch black eyes, on all four limbs, loping after us. Now, if youâre in the know, you might be thinking âhey thatâs like the creatures from Until Dawn, I call bullshit on this.â Well, Until Dawn was four years away, and it wasnât even in development yet, so shush.Â
I rip my eyes away from it and hold on tight as she drives. Then, at the same time, both of us get this instinct and we speak.Â
âDonât look in the backseat.â Needless to say, neither of us did. She drove damn near 90 on a dark canyon until we saw the lights of her complex at the mouth of it.Â
I havenât gone back in there since, and that canyon got shut down about a year ago due to a landslide and it hasnât opened back up. Iâm a history major, and research always has been my first love, so I go digging. I visit the local history society, talk about my tale. Turns out the whole valley used to belong to a people called the Tativam. One day, after the Spanish arrived, they vanished. Without a trace. We have a graveyard of theirs that we know of. One of my professors was trying to stop the houses that were being built on it. Spoiler alert: he didnât, and the houses are hella haunted, and nobody wants to live there.Â
Personally I do think the creature is a wendigo. That chain of mountains is park of unbroken chain that leads right up the Serra Nevadas and Donner Pass.Â
THE Donner Pass.Â
You do the math.Â
@carolinemb88
Iâm from Northern California myself, state capitol, and while we donât have much by way of critters (sure, weâve got Bigfoot up in the redwoods, but those guys are mostly harmless).
Most of what weâve got is due to the Gold Rush, and not just the hauntings (though there are plenty of those, a great many of them are theatre ghosts, most of whom are harmless, though some are very particular). What weâve got by way of Things were brought along on the trail from the Old Country to the East Coast and then along thousands of miles of wagon trail.
Weâve got our fair share of phantom hitchhikers and women in white, but mostly what weâve got are the Things That Survived The Flood. There was a flood in the early 1860s, one that caused the state capitol to actually be relocated for a while, and when it was over and the floodwaters receded, there was enough sediment left behind that what had been the second floor of buildings was now the ground floor.
There are a handful of places in Old Town that you Do Not Go after dark (despite being safe during the day). When I worked in Old Town, giving comedic history tours, we started from and returned to a restaurant that had a club downstairs (in what had been the ground floor before The Flood) and there was a storeroom down there that got locked at sunset and no one questioned it, but the door to that storeroom was pretty much right next to the portable shed we changed clothes in, and I know, more than once, I heard knocking and scratching and one of my very last tours I got a facefull of wet-plant rot smell (not quite mildew, but not stinky like rotting meat gets) so bad I couldnât breathe. Itâs one of the reasons I stopped doing the tours, really, because I was starting to get the feeling I was being singled out, and I didnât want to find out what by.
When I was like 17, I lived in the woods on the northwest coast of canada. One day, I decided to go for a walk in a part of the woods I had never been to before. Because sometimes I see weird things out there, I made sure to bring my grandmaâs dog with me, just running free and off-leash. These are wild woods, too, not parkland, so the only clear areas are deer trails. I stuck along to those because, you know, I donât want to get lost, and about an hour in I hear this strange whistling. Just a short call- One long, sharp whistle followed quickly by a short, piping one. Now, Iâm in a good mood and I figure it must be some new kind of bird, so I whistle back: long call, short call. It whistles again. Iâm amused, so I whistle again. Long call, short call, and then just to be fun, I throw in a little trill at the end. It whistles back. It whistles back the exact same pattern. Now, normally that would freak me out, but I was in a REALLY good mood. A really weirdly good mood. So, I whistled again. And when it whistled back to me, I giggled. I⌠Donât giggle. Not alone in the woods over basically nothing. The whistle came again, and there was a rustle in the distance. Seeing a shady outcrop, I ran to hide, feeling like I was playing hide-and-seek with someone. It whistled, I whistled back. Another rustle. Closer. I suddenly realized I hadnât seen the dog in a while. I looked around, and saw him a few feet away, staring point-blank and totally still into the forest. The whistle came again, closer this time, and suddenly my weirdly bubbly feeling was gone. Instant fear. I got the dogâs attention and we absolutely booked it out of there, all the way back to the eight-foot-high gate that marked the start of the wild land. I locked it behind me, and we never went back. I never really had any idea what was whistling with me in the forest. Maybe some kind of mimic bird that had escaped home, or a squatter hiding out there sewhere messing with this kid and their dog. I only just remembered that when I was a kid, we learned about the Tsonoqua woman. The Tsonoqua woman is supposed to be an old woman who lives in the woods. She carries a basket on her back and has long, tangled hair. When children wander away from camp, it is said that she snatches them up in her basket and steals them away forever. But because she has bad sight, she uses her keen ears to hunt, and calls out with a birdlike whistle.
I have lived in southern California for a lifetime. There are things here that even I donât understand. Things I canât describe. If you ever take any advice from my blog, please, please, remember this.
Coyotes donât hunt in packs.
Marvel Studiosâ Black Widow - Official Teaser Trailer
â ď¸ RED ALERT: An unprecedented 17 states filed six-week abortion bans this year... â ď¸
More than *300* abortion restrictions have been introduced since JANUARY.
Tell lawmakers to STOP using six-week abortion bans to make YOUR choices for you â add your name here!
4. If the car pulls up to you run in the opposite direction.
5. Walk with your keys in your hands and keep a key between each finger
6. If they put you in the trunk kick out the headlights
7. If you get lost find a woman with a child. Never ask a man for help (this one was drilled)
That scream fire piece of advice is literally life saving
8. Watch your shadows and reflections, especially if someone is walking behind you. A split second notice is better than none and will help you.
Yes this last one really saves lives y'all I do it all the time
girls have to learn to view the world like international intelligence agents just to be safe walking down the street. smh.
guys pls pls pls reblog and girls pls pls pls be safe out there. terrifying and so sad that we have to worry about this on a daily basis
so women are supposed to grin and bear the books, the comics, the movies, the plays, the tv shows, the stories, the sci-fi, the translated ancient poems, the fucking millennia of men writing about their self inserts torturing women and it being declared as High Art by other men, weâre supposed to read it in our free time, study it in classrooms, include their styles in our own writing, accept their cultural influence as natural, watch it in the cinema, write about it, talk about it, accept it, aspire it, but men canât tolerate three seconds of female wish fulfilment of a woman snapping the wrist of a creep without feeling personally kicked in the balls.
This reminds me of something I observed in college while I was doing my honors thesis on women in modern horror films. I watched a LOT of horror during that time as part of my research, and sometimes that was done with my family around.
And my dad and brothers? Were deeply disturbed by the movie Jenniferâs Body. I was flabbergasted. Itâs not scary! Itâs not even that gory. But they were horrified by it. These men who grew up on 70s slashers were legitimately shook by 90 minutes of Megan Fox eating a few teenage boys, mostly off-screen.
Similarly, my all-male reading panel for my thesis? Were so disturbed by my synopsis of the film Teeth that they couldnât even talk about it. One of them said he couldnât look at his wife for a week after reading it.
Again, grown-ass men who study and teach media for a living. Who definitely watch and enjoy horror movies. One of whom was a huge Tarantino buff. We watched and read worse in his intro to mass media class! But one movie about a girl whose vag could bite was enough to haunt him.
Then of course you have things like the Gone Girl backlashâmen yelling that Amy Dunne is evil and women clamoring to assure everyone that they know she is not someone to emulateâthe backlash against Carol Danvers, and, more recently, the griping from MRAs against the upcoming film Hustlers, which is about strippers scamming their Wall Street clients.
My conclusion? Most menâat least most straight, cisgender men, who are both my sample population and most of the ones whining that Carol is a âvillainââare perfectly fine with, and desensitized to, media where men do violence to women (horror movies), or men do violence to men (horror and action movies). Theyâre even sort of fine when women do violence to women (âooooo cat fight!â).
But they get intensely uncomfortable when women are depicted doing any kind of violence to men, especially in films that tilt the balance of power to the other side of the m/f gender binary beyond a single moment or scene.
So woman as flesh-eating monster with men as her preferred cuisine? Woman who responds to unwanted sexual contact by biting it off? Woman who frames her cheating husband for murder? Woman whose response to harassmentâbehavior that many of the loudest whiners know is both creepy and reflective of their own thoughts/actionsâis to break something?
Too scary. Unacceptable. Disturbing. These men hate being presented with the idea, even in fiction, that their position of power is socially constructed, that it could easily be flipped the other way. It terrifies them.
In feeling that terror, they experience a tiny modicum of what living, existing, moving, being perceived as a woman in the world is like.
And they flinch every time.
Here have a newspaper comic from 1993
ăPLEASE REBLOG AND SPREAD OUT TO THE WORLDă
Hong Kong police = Terrorist.
This is the truth of what happened in Hong Kong last night.
To you who is reading this right now,
We, Hongkongers just experienced a terrorist attack planned and executed by our Hong Kong Police Force. At about 10pm today, our police force rushed into our railway system in Prince Edward station, got in to the carriage and indifferently beat up all the people in it regardless they are protesters or simply passengers. They ignored the weapon guidelines and fired tear gas indoor in the carriage which is in fact lethal. Also, they beat up innocent people causing them seriously wounded. Some passengers kneeled before them asking them to stop but the response they got were beaten ever harder. Meanwhile, the police havenât arrested the passengers after they got beaten up, showing that the only purpose of their brutality was to sort their anger to violence but not dispersing the crowd.
Not only that, they refused to let first aider enter gated station with wounded inside even the first aider was begging and promising to ditch all his gears. He even pleaded that the police could beat him up after he has saved the people inside. The police still wouldn't let the first aid team in.
We, Hongkongers are experiencing a humanitarian crisis and we hope that people all over the world can help us in anyways you can think of. Thank you and we will stay strong.
Hongkongers
https://twitter.com/CriminelleLaw/status/1037511306906099712
Reminds me of my mom getting remarried several years ago, for about a weekend - dude waited until after the wedding to tell her he expected her at waiting at home with dinner waiting when he finished work.
I dunno, like I get that this version of manhood is ânormalâ but goddamn is it the most brittle, contemptable fuckin thing
This is NOT these womenâs fault in any way - these men hide their misogyny until they think youâre hooked. They know what they are doing.
These women are wise and brave. I admire them so much!
Not even touching the fact that he thinks teachers and nurses are lesserâŚhe wants her to be less so that he can be more.
Am i the only one that thinks they could have come back from this? Like please tell me this was just the straw that broke the camels back and not a one off event. He must be an at least somewhat respectable person if she managed to stay with him up til that point. Him feeling lesser is a taught facet of his life pushed upon him by the patriarchy. It obviously damaged the way he viewed his gf, and his relationship, but that doesnt mean it cant be untaught. And of course its not this womans responsibility to be his teacher, but i hope she at least made him aware that this is what happened and why she leftâŚ
Literally how can you come back from someone wanting to have more power over you?
Heâs not a little kid, heâs a grown ass man and if he hasnât learned that 1. Teachers and nurses are smart as fuck and 2. That women arenât and shouldnât be lesser to him then when the hell is he going to learn from that?
Why does it need to be a final straw? Signs that someone is this fucked up are logs, not straws. And being a ârespectableâ person is easy when youâre lying about who you are and what you think.
These guys waited until they thought their women couldnât possibly exist without them and then tried to shut down the things that made them special. Being nurses. Public defenders. Teachers.
These men pointed out what they were so proud of⌠how hard they worked⌠and tried suggesting that they stop. Tried making them feel bad about it. This is a common pathway into emotional and psychological abuse.
It was designed to make them feel bad and give it up. The next step would have been âwhat else can I take awayâ. Those situations where the womanâs confidence is shattered and it takes her years to get free of the asshole⌠9/10 started with comments like this.
Please understand that this wasnât an off the cuff thing. This was something heâs been thinking for a while, but waited to say til he thought he could make her change to suit him.
This is so important. These are not normal or innocuous comments these are red flags and classic behavior of abusers. People like this are insanely manipulative. They hook you in and pick you apart piece by piece. It starts with this, moves on to isolating you from your support system, and then flashforward a few years and youâre convinced that youâll never be good enough and you need them to survive. You end up broken and completely subservient. These women did the right thing and are brave for speaking. Abusers arenât usually the neighbors you hear screaming and shattering dishes like you see in the movies. Theyâre your âfriendly next door neighborsâ and they keep quiet. People are too scared to talk. Again, why her speaking up is so important.
THIS STUFF ALL OF THIS.
People wonder how anyone stays with an abuser - this is how. Because manipulative people donât hit you or insult you on the first date. They wait until youâre invested in them and the relationship, and then they start small, with comments like this.
And they rely on the fact that so many peopleâs reaction will be âokay, that sucked, but we can come back from this.â They bank on their victim thinking that way. They might even apologize and claim they wonât do it again. But they always do, and they escalate slowly, so youâre a frog in a pot of hot water.
Donât wait for the tenth red flag, because by then youâll be starting to think that hey, thatâs actually kind of a nice shade of red, so maybe itâs not so bad to have all these red flags around, maybe if I just decorated with them theyâd be okay.
Also, women are not rehabilitation centers for poorly behaved men.
Ladies, this is how you do it.
Women do not owe anything to men at all and we are not recepticals for their pain or suffering
