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factorialsotherfandoms · 5 months

Text

TW: panic attack, non-graphic self harm, reckless behaviour, fear of drowning

This is like... a bit 5K of Pac and Philza actually bonding for once...

Fear claws into Pac's heart just as easily as his fingernails dig into his palms. There's nothing wrong, objectively there's nothing wrong, but he's been alone all day. It's not at all like working with Mike; he's been trying to decorate the Favela, but his breath keeps catching and his thoughts keep stopping.

He can hear the fountain beneath the warpstone, and he wants it to /stop/.

He knows anxiety now, he knows it, he knows this is what it is, and when Fit found the blood in Chume Labs and the empty graves he made him promise to call him if it happened again. It's happening now, Pac can feel it building, but there's nobody awake. He checks it again, and still it's only him.

So he does the thing he does next best. He holds his breath and he thinks of nothing and he builds. More trees, more ponds, more fountains - anything and everything he can think of. Give the Redeemer a sombrero, then think better of it half way through and take it down. Start returfing the football field, only to decide to put it back because making the goals muddy is just ugly. Hang up more banners, pull them down, add a bit to the fences, swap them for iron, then concrete.

Breathe in, breathe out, there's nothing wrong it's just anxiety.

(But it is wrong, everything is wrong, the back of his brain where Mike sits is empty, not just asleep but empty, torn away and - )

Mike's in the Order hospital, Pac reminds himself, and begins to walk that way.

( - and there are eyes at his back, ready to take him again and - )

Pac forgets to breathe. He drops to his knees in the middle of the street, and scrabbled his hands in the dirt.

Pac checks the communicator again. There's a few more people awake, but... No Fit, no Tubbo, no Mike, no Bagi or Forever... Of the handful of people, the one he knows best if Philza - and while he's happily looked after the man's children, and he's been quite happy to chat or fight together in the past... Philza Minecraft is a legend, and he's never really spoken much without Fit there as a buffer.

But the other option is staying here alone, and he promised Fit that if he started feeling like this again he'd ask someone for company.

He takes a deep breath, and sends a message.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I visit?

As soon as he hits send, Pac slams it shut. He pushes it against his head, shuddering while curled up in a ball. He clings to the communicator, his link to the outside, so hard it leaves indents in his skin.

"It's okay," he whispers to himself. "It's okay, you're okay, there's nobody here to watch you."

It doesn't help; he tries it anyway.

The seconds drag on into minutes, and Pac's fears overwhelm even his attempts to comfort himself.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're safe," he promises himself, even as he claws at his knees, at his face, at his hair and at the floor - anything he can reach to force himself to remember his place.

He hums songs he loves, shuts his eyes and tries to dance along.

He slams hands over his mouth and freezes when he tries.

Too loud, too loud, they'll find you - quiet, quiet, quiet as a mouse and quieter still. Hide amongst the rats, and hope nobody spots you curled up there...

The communicator pings.

In a scramble Pac pulls the lid open, shaking fingers quickly clicking him through to the correct screen.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: sorry m8, missed the message

Ph1LzA whispers to you: still need something or you get it sorted?

What does Pac say? The loneliness is getting to him and the walls are caving in and he can feel something watching from inside his spine? That Mike is gone and he's remembering a /before/ he wants to forget, He can't say that, he really can't.

But what sounds like a normal response which might get him a conversation...

With shaking hands he types whatever comes to mind.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: I am just missing Fit

... Not that. That absolutely does not sound like a request for company.

This time Philza's reply does not take nearly as long, though still longer than anyone else Pac ever messages.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: yeah?

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you want some company? I can put down a sharestone

Pac's heart settles back into place - maybe slightly too high still, but far closer. He didn't mess it up too badly - maybe English is just like that - he didn't even have to ask again.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: please.

It's another minute or two for Pac's anxiety to build and him to cling to the communicator before he recieves a reply.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: red sharestone, name should be obvious

You whisper to Ph1LzA: obrigado

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you're good

There's definitely some emotion to reading those words; Pac pushes it aside, and grabs his warpstone. Moving to the main warpstone for the warehouse seems like too much, so he simply sends himself to spawn.

Only there does he pick himself up, activating the red sharestone. It takes a few scrolls to find the new option, but once he does it earns a small laugh. He selects it, and lets his body be pulled through space.

Where he arrives is cold, deep snow all around, and an icy ocean before him. Pac tugs his sleeves down over his hands, and looks around.

Whereever Philza is, he isn't immediately obvious.

"Philza?" he calls. "Felipe?"

There's a splash as Philza trident-jumps out of the ocean, his paraglider flipping open at the zenith and allowing him to drift safely down to the ice. Pac watches him drift down, the water dripping off him freezing as it falls.

"Hey," Philza calls, once back in voice range, arm moving as though to wave before suddenly remembering he needs to hold the paraglider. "Sorry about that; spotted another jelly and had to get it before it ran off."

Pac waves him off, "it's okay, it's okay, do you need any help?"

Philza squints at Pac a moment, and Pac squirms beneath it. After a moment, though, he just shrugs, "just hunting for rainbow jelly."

"Rainbow jelly?"

"Like the French use to make themselves all rainbow," Philza grins a bit. "You can use it to make glass like that, too. Chayanne wanted some, so..."

Pac thinks of the children, hurting and asleep and under the Federation's "care", the only guarantees of their safety the ability to visit, and the knowledge the Federation knows what is coming if harm comes for their children.

"For Chayanne?" He asks. "I'll help."

"Feel free to hang onto it - if you don't use it, he'll appreciate the gift when he wakes up."

When, not if, even if Pac can see Philza hesitates too.

With that confidence and the thought of their children, Pac doesn't even consider before throwing himself into the water. Behind him he hears the somewhat distorted sound of Philza laughing, and the man throwing himself in after.

Pac spots a couple of the comb jellies, and kicks off towards them. Philza seems to see another group, as he takes another route.

Hunting animals for their innards is one of the few times that sweeping edge is worth it on this island, and so Pac takes out his sword. It only takes a hit to take out the jellies, small as they are, and then Pac just has to scoop up their remains. From there he spots another - deeper - and swims after it. And another, and another - Pac loses himself to the chore, simply collecting jelly for the happiness of a child.

He thinks he's finally calmed down, when he spots another in a cave. Pac doesn't even think about it as he dives in after - but very quickly, it gets very dark.

Too dark.

He tries to ignore it, to push through and find the jelly even as memories start to loom and the dark closes in.

Breathe in, breathe out, remind yourself your helmet is in place and with that much Aqua Affinity you're fine.

It's not the underwater prison again, it's not, it's not.

Just find the jelly and get out...

On instinct he reaches out for Mike, and finds nothing.

Nothing.

Mike? What happened to Mike?

The most frustrating thing is always that he knows, he remembers, but in the dark and the wet and the unnatural silence it doesn't matter. His breathing picks up, and he twists and he turns, looking - screaming - for Mike.

Rationally, he knows he's lightheaded because hes hyperventilating. But in his heart, in his fear, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything because he's alone in the wet and the dark and he /can't do this anyone/.

He wants Mike, he wants Mike, he wants Fit and he wants Mike.

Where is Mike, why can't he reach him, where is he where is he why can't he feel him in his mind?!

He's screaming for them, he thinks, even as tears stream down his face and he twists in the water. By now he's helplessly lost, not even able to find the exit he cane in by. Whatever light there was is gone, and he doesn't even quite remember why he's here.

He twists and he fights, trying to fend off hands that aren't there - only to get his leg twisted up in the seaweed and somehow everything is even worse and worse and worse. He tugs and tugs, but the seaweed grasps tighter - he sees dark prison walls overlaying dark, broken caves, and he sobs as he realises he is going to die here.

He screams again and wonders how he still has air; something responds this time, and he begs it for bitter, screaming help.

A small light he cannot focus on, and hands find their way to his leg. In a panic he twists, kicks, fights - nothing, nothing, nothing can touch him - it's worse than the seaweed, to be grabbed by a hand.

"Shit, Pac," a familiar voice calls, an odd quality to it. "Fuck, I'm just cutting you out, Jesus mate no need to break my nose."

The words don't make sense, not entirely, but seconds later Pac finds his leg free - still entangled, but the seaweed cut from the floor, and he does his best to swim away.

Right from the seaweed and slamming into the cave wall.

Hands grab him again, and say something, and he fights them all the same. Seconds later he's being dragged and pulled and - oh, god, this is how he's going to die.

He goes to fight before remembering, actually, dieing might not be so bad actually... At worst he'll respawns, at best he'll be with Mike again.

It's just as that thought crosses his mind that his head breaks the surface of the ocean. Pac gasps for air and, by the time he's processed that, he's being hoisted and yanked up onto the ice.

He's frozen, he's freezing, but he shakes off the worst of the water and shudders as sunlight presses into his skin.

He's crying - sobbing even - on his hands and his knees, blind terror all about him as he struggles to breathe.

"Aw, mate, you could have said no if it was gonna fuck you up."

There's someone else here; Pac's eyes glance around, only to find Philza there. He can't tell if the man is a friend or a foe or just an acquaintance to be embarrassed around, but the man shrugs off his bag and opens his arms in a familiar gesture.

Pac falls into them, and hides. A hand finds his hair, and another his back, and something very dark curls around to protect him from icy wind. He does not cling back, just cries to the sound of slightly awkward comfort, sucking it in.

"You're okay," the words sound so much more believable coming from someone else. "You got out, I've got you, you're safe, you're okay."

The words are whispered into his skin, and they're not quite a balm but they are a promise and a kindness none the less; he is promised safety, and he knows the man around him can provide.

He just... Did not expect that provision to include himself, only friends of friends as they are.

Pac breathes, and it comes easier now - the air is cold, but between the darkness and Philza's chest he is safe. Slowly, slowly, as he remembers what limbs are Pac reaches out a shaking hand to the void.

It finds feathers; the darkness tenses, and then relaxes to his touch.

Pac, in turn, relaxes with it.

"You good?" Philza eventually asks from above.

"Sim," Pac replies, gathering himself a little more, hiding himself in a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, that was embarrassing."

"We've all been there mate," Fit's friend says.

The wings peel away, and Pac can see them properly - tattered edges and all. Sees how they droop, and the strain in Philza's shoulders as he uses his hands to fold them, and his backpack to keep them in pace.

"Shall we get somewhere warmer?" he asks, before Pac can comment. "I've got a treasure map to somewhere near that mesa you and Fit showed me, if you've still got the warp?"

"Are you sure?" Pac's hands shake as he checks his things.

"Eh, I'm pretty sure it's an iron dungeon," Philza replies, pulling out a map and squinting at it. "I was saving it to troll Etoiles with, but I could actually do with more iron. And someone to deal with mobs while I mine it. You, me, and some skellies - sound good?"

Pac isn't sure; he doesn't want to think, though, he does know that. Dungeons are supposed to be his and Fit's /thing/, one half the time someone intrudes on. The offer almost feels insulting, but...

But when Philza felt bad, they offered him a dungeon - he so clearly means to offer the same. Like for like, not pity but a trade.

"I want the tracks and redstone," Pac tries to sound steady, and knows he fails. "I'll save it for Mike when he returns."

"Sure, I don't even know where to start with that shit," Philza takes Pac's hand, and leads him along a safe route over the ice. "If we go back to that haunted rock area, then glide back towards the mesa? I should be able to find us on the map from there."

Pac nods, placing his hand on the warpstone in advance. Philza's joins it, and together they warp away.

---

Thankfully it is dawn, and any monsters are gone this time - there's just the beautiful sunrise over the haunted sea. The sun is rising, not setting, but Pac waves to it anyway and hopes that, somewhere, Bobby can see.

Philza makes half a laugh as he finds his glider. Pac searches for his own, and tries not to remember the night on the cliff - him and Fit, him and Fit, but also Philza, laughing about cannons and resting in one another's arms, only for Philza to pull away first and let him and Fit be.

Pac instead thinks about friendship, and how Fit would abandon everything for Philza just as Pac would give it up for Mike, and how it seems that isn't limited to just them. Because Philza didn't send him home, just as Fit also kept close to an oddly behaving Mike. How it doesn't really matter, because in the end they both agree with where the other stands.

Pac instead thinks of nothing, and throws himself off a cliff after Philza.

For one glorious second he lets himself fall, before pulling out his own paraglider and following Philza down.

He lands on Philza's boat, and they drive it back to the mesa. It's filled with the sort of talk that means nothing, and with Philza humming tunes to the air. For a man who claims to be musically dead, he manages it well.

It's also noise, white noise to blur the absence in his mind.

"Here we are," Philza gets out first, and offers Pac a hand out. "We should be pretty close. These things are a bit of a nightmare to find, being underground, but I'm sure we'll manage."

To his surprise, Pac is passed the map while Philza puts away the boat. He has to turn it around to orientate himself, but once he has Philza gestures for him to lead the way. Philza puts himself on Pac's left - the side he holds the map, whilst his other has his scythe, shield turned out against the wild.

Pac tries to think of something to say, and what comes out is, "so did you go looking for a big cannon, or did you just stumble into it?"

The comment draws startled laughter from his companion as they walk, having to stop a moment to let him gather himself. "We knew we were going to see one, but we're exactly looking. You find them all over the coast in the UK, and I think some along the Thames too? A lot have been removed, but we like our old crap, so a couple of the old forts are still open."

"So you're saying you come from a land of many large cannons."

"Yes, Pac," Philza laughs again. "Yes, I do; don't you?"

"We have other large things instead," Pac tries to smile, but he knows it looks off. "Like diamonds."

"Diamonds?"

Pac can see Philza looking for the sex joke, and suddenly realises he doesn't actually want to explain what he meant. So instead he says, "quality over size. Even a big diamond is small."

That draws more laughter, "yeah okay mate; Fit's a lucky boy then."

That almost has Pac dropping the map he's holding as he chokes. Philza grabs him, holds him steady, gives him something to cling to with Mike and Fit and Richarlyson and Walter Bob all gone. Something there, some support, something to stop him choking on himself.

"Too much?" Philza's voice is gentler this time.

Pac nods, hiding his blush in his hands even as he leans on Philza.

"Alright," Philza says, handing him a bottle. "Drink some water, king, and we'll get this dungeon cleared. And no more dick jokes until Fit's also here to suffer. Maybe we could even come up with some new ones, just to tease him next time we all meet up."

Pac takes the bottle, hiding in his hood as he does as he's told. Philza takes the map and they continue to walk as he sips at it, hiding himself and his face in the bottle. Philza makes sure to stay in sight, keeping idle commentry going.

At this point, Pac is reasonably sure Philza knows something continues to be wrong - but then so did Fit and Pac when Philza had that strange... Maybe hallucination? Fit says it probably wasn't, and Pac trusts Fit, but whatever it was it was unsettling and strange.

Philza seems fine now, though; maybe one day Pac will be fine too.

It is about ten or fifteen minutes walk to the dungeon. There's nothing on the surface to mark it, just Philza squinting at the map, and passing it to Pac to check.

Once they agree, they dig; Philza calls 'race you!' and begins a staircase.

Pac lives for adrenaline; he starts digging straight down.

Somehow he doesn't hit lava.

He does end up falling from the top of the dungeon into a crevasse, fails to find either a water bucket or his paraglider, and breaks his leg. It's terrifying, and he's alone as he sees his death message flash up in chat but - maybe - it's okay. There's Aypierre laughing and Baghera offering help, and Philza on his black paraglider swooping in from the ceiling to assist.

"You good?" Philza asks as he pours a potion out over the wounds, his eyes almost glowing in the low light as Pac's bones knit together.

Pac leans forwards to check his prosthetic while his body heals, twitching only a little with the pain. The fall knocked a few screws loose and bent some of the metal out of shape, but it's an easy enough fix with a hammer and screwdriver. He'll check it over properly later, or maybe swap it for his spare until he has energy for it, but it'll hold for the day.

"All good," Pac confirms, as he pulls his jeans back down.

He can see Philza side-eyeing the prosthetic, and shifts; the man says nothing, however, just helps Pac up and types out an 'all good we're just dungeoning' to calm the global chat.

And then he looks at his map.

"You've got us near a corner," Philza turns his communicator to show Pac. "If we just start here and work around to the left, we shouldn't miss anything."

Pac nods, and pulls out his grapple. Together they pull themselves up and onto the ledge, and the dungeon begins.

It starts simple - Philza takes out a spawner, while Pac works on the skeletons, then they swap so Pac can loot the minetracks. Trading the mobs on and off, Pac cannot help but notice how Philza even when on mob duty prioritises looting, catching the attention of a swamp of skeletons and sending them on a chase over barrels as he smashes them open and grabs the contents. Only when he can carry no more does he start fighting, laughing as he does.

It's a nice laugh, that one.

He laughs too when Pac fights, hacking away at the iron blocks he claims to want. With every other hit there is a call of "good hit!" "nice one!" "you're doing good, Pac!", and Pac can feel himself starting to grin as well.

Together they dance in a dungeon much easier than the one Phil joined Pac and Fit for, able to let loose without worrying for the giant magma cube around the corner. They keep an eye on each other, and watch their backs, and Fit's deep voice is so clearly missing between them without feeling like a void.

By the time it is finished, they are both laughing, bone-dust covering their clothes and their tools and the world in their hands. Philza gives Pac some of the iron, and they take his staircase - not Pac's hole - out.

They don't talk about what comes next, but neither of them reach for their warpstones. Instead Pac picks a direction and walks. Philza follows.

They find a hill a little way out, surrounded by flower fields but empty of them itself. Philza lights it up with his slingshot, despite it still being around midday, and Pac makes hot chocolate for them both. Pulls out chairs, too - blue and green - and places a coffee table between them.

He sits on the blue and Philza looks at the green and says, "are you sure I'm okay to sit there? I don't wanna intrude."

Pac looks at the chair - it was just habit, just what he carries - and curls up his toes. "It's fine," he can hear the sadness in his own voice. "Mike isn't here, he wouldn't mind."

"Do you mind?"

"I got it out for you."

"Alright, king," Philza finally takes the seat and the hot chocolate, leaning back into the cushions. After a bit he adds, "these are good chairs. Maybe I should invest in something better than mine."

"They're not expensive," Pac replies. "And they're comfy! I have one instead of a bed."

He wonders if he should have admitted that - he knows people worry - but in the crash of the panic attack and the fighting it's hard to keep his mouth shut.

Philza just laughs though, "yeah? I've been using one of those wooden ones. You know? Basic ones, just in a fancy wood."

"How do you not have splinters?!"

"I'm good with my hands - what else can I say?"

They both laugh at that one, a joke which actually lands. There's something comfortable and comforting about it. The laughter drifts into giggles, drifts into sips of hot chocolate - quiet and together. Pac makes a point of not watching as Philza gets himself comfortable, untangling his wings and stretching them... Not to full width, but wide.

It's only when one brushes his arm that Pac dares to ask "what happened?"

"Hm?" Philza looks up.

"To your wings?"

"Feds fucked them up when I arrived," Philza says it like its nothing, but there's bitter pain in his words. "By purgatory they'd healed up just enough to fly, but then carrying Tubbo through meteor strikes and radiation... I can't regret it, I /won't/ regret it, but they're fucked again. I can hold them up so it seems better, but they hurt worse than before."

Pac wants to say he's sorry, but he doesn't think it would be appreciated. Instead he says "thank you for saving Tubbo."

"I couldn't just leave him," Philza says. "He's my friend too, you know?"

"I know," Pac fiddles with his cup. "You're a good man, Felipe Minecraft. I'm not sure I'd do it."

"I think you would," Philza says, with more faith in Pac than he's ever had in himself. "If it came to it. You're also a good man, Pac - if you weren't, I wouldn't let you have Fit."

It's an admission neither of them acknowledge. Instead Pac flops, exhausted, against his chair. "I'd do it for Mike. I miss him."

"I can't imagine," Philza's wings stretch a little further, stroking against Pac's cheek. "But, I'm sure he'll heal. And once he does hold him close, okay? Because you never know when you'll loose him."

It's obvious, of course Pac will try to, but there's pain in Philza's voice, and Pac thinks of a memorial on a wall and a child living in the footsteps of a ghost, and maybe Philza can imagine better than he thinks he can.

Or maybe Philza means he can't imagine, because he knows.

"Did you love him?" Pac asks instead.

"He was my best friend."

Philza's voice breaks on the word, and Pac knows both that he has to stop, and that Philza knows just what it is Pac fears. Even if he calls it different, even if they didn't share one mind... Pac should not have asked.

"I'm sorry."

"You did nothing wrong; it hurts, but in hurting I remember him, you know?"

There's a long silence, in which Pac tries to know what to say, and Philza stares absently at soft clouds on the horizon. Even in Portuguese he would struggle, and Philza is certainly not looking to his translator.

Maybe Philza and Fit are not as Pac and Mike; Philza has already lost his Mike. Or, perhaps, both are true, and even if Pac looses his best friend, someone will be there to keep him whole.

It's a nice fantasy; he knows Philza's wound bleeds open even now.

"I have never been without Mike before this island," Pac eventually admits. "At least... I was seven when we met, he was five. I've heard his thoughts since I was ten, and the first time he ever fell silent was when I was put in that water prison."

"Shit," Philza closes his eyes as he swears, leaning back. "Earlier, with the water... You should have said something, Pac, I wouldn't have judged you. Fuck knows there's shit I can't do anymore."

"I didn't know it'd be that bad," Pac hesitates after those words. "It hasn't been before. Today is just... bad? I already felt bad."

"And you came to me for company, and I made it worse," Philza says. "I am so, so sorry mate - I didn't mean to, I just- It was for Chayanne."

"It was still better than being alone," Pac replies. "The second time our connection broke was when he was taken - I haven't heard him since. Even asleep, even unconscious, even when I was in a coma... We could still feel each other. Not now. It's lonely no, and it's been so long..."

"Pac..." Philza's voice catches. "You shouldn't have to make those choices... You shouldn't have to put up with my whims just not to be alone, mate, you should have just said; we could have gone to the dungeon, or the favela, worked on the train tracks... You didn't have to swim."

"Fit is gone, Mike is gone, Richas is gone," Pac twists his hands. "You were helping me. I wanted to help you - I wanted to do something for Chayanne too! He is a good egg."

"He is," Philza smiles softly, taking the distraction for what it is. "The best. But, king, are you going to be okay?"

"When am I not?" Pac asks, as he thinks of happy pills and his own blood trailing the floors of Chume Labs.

Philza gives him a distinctly unimpressed expression and, yeah, fair, "I'm serious, Pac; I don't have plans today if you just wanna chill somewhere. Here, my place, your place, the Favela... if the karaoke's working, we could steal a room? Hell, we can just keep heading outwards and find some more dungeons if you fancy violence instead."

"... Are you sure?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" Philza asks. "We don't get to hang out as often as we should - if you'd rather get some rest, I won't stop you. Just thought I'd offer."

"Karaoke then?" Pac suggests, if only for some structure to keep the anxiety from seeping back in.

"Sure. No promises I won't fall asleep on the couch, though."

Pac laughs. It is weaker, but it is more real. "No promises, no promises here either."

In time they do, of course, fall asleep on the couch - and that is where Fit will find them in the morning.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp pac #mike and techno haunt the narrative #what is that conversation at the end idk they ran away from me #it was supposed to be about the shitty prison system #it very much is not #god this was a long one #I wanted to write it so bad #but christ 5k of continuous narrative is a lot #I've put scene breaks where they teleport #and summarised the fighting more than I meant to #but its still all one continuous scene really #and oh god was it hard to stitch together #multiple scenes so much easier for longer >.<#okay enough complaining about writing hope you enjoyed #I'll get it to ao3 when I can #but that means at least spellchecking #but oh god I'm tired after this #I've been writing it for... eight hours #on and off but without doing anything thinky between #just replying to occassional email or watching a video about a snake while I have lunch

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mishapen-dear · 8 months

Text

(ao3)

The worst thing, Bad knows, is the way that nothing changes.

The clouds move slow across the sky, gentle giants on an eternal trek. The waters dance with fish; the brooks burble and sing. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows.

On, and on, and on, and on.

Bad breathes in, slow, and holds it.

It’s enough to go mad over. To become enraged for. To rip everything down just so that everything can match the- the keening lack in his heart. Grass grows. Grass has always grown. There is nothing that could ever stop grass from growing.

His hands are curled into the ground at his sides. He clutches handfuls of the wretched plant and pulls, almost gently, and doesn’t snap a single blade.

He exhales, slow, and doesn’t inhale again. What point is there? He’s alone. No one will know whether or not he needs to breathe. He’s been alone before- days that Dapper doesn’t wake up, days where the other eggs are with their other parents. Days where he falls asleep in his chair and the ghosts are left to amuse themselves. He’s been alone before.

He’s lost before.

There is a sob in his throat. He refuses to let it out. It chokes him, and he takes another deep breath to try to settle it.

There’s always- he misses Skeppy. Of course he misses Skeppy. He can’t lose Skeppy, but Skeppy isn’t here.

Dapper isn’t here. Pomme isn’t here. Richarlyson. Leo. Ramon. Chayanne. Tallulah. They’re-

Bad tears the grass out of the ground. He stares at his hands, dark claws curled around torn green plant. He tries to imagine the grass is white fur instead, but he can’t find the enthusiasm. That’s okay. The anger will be back later.

He just- he can’t feel much beyond the loss, right now. The lack. The empty, quiet island where sheep eat grass and clouds keep moving and no eggs place any signs at all. That’s not okay, but he knows that, at least, will change. That’s how grief works. The world ends, and you end with it, and while you claw yourself up from the rubble the world ends again and sends you back under, and then again, and then again, but by the third go around you know what the tremors look like. You start to predict where it hurts the most. Then the world keeps ending but the ending just becomes a part of your world, and sometimes everything shakes but you shake with it and it’s not okay but it’s better. You get so used to the shaking that sometimes you forget that your world ever ended at all.

How long will it take for him to forget them?

Bad leans forwards, slowly, until he slumps into a miserable little puddle of limbs. He presses his cheek into the cool grass and when the sob rises up again he bites it back with teeth. The sun is blocked by a sombrero, now fallen awkwardly over his face, that Foolish had cheerfully placed on his head hours before. Bad doesn’t know why Foolish had put it there- except he does, and he’d seen it in the in the slightest tremor of Foolish’s smile, and so he’d kept it on.

He can’t see them, but he can hear them laughing. Mouse, Jaiden, and Foolish, just around the corner. There have been so many people ‘just around the corner’ today. They’re so loud. They’re not the right type of loud. He feels guilty for the way that they’re comforting him, that he’s taking up their time, and then he feels angry that he feels guilty because he remembers the cage, and he knows what he really means to them, and-

They’re still here. The eggs are gone, and they’re still here.

Forever isn’t here.

Forever hasn’t given him a gift basket yet.

…

…It doesn’t work. It’s a close thing, though- there’s a flicker of irritation at the thought of Forever’s awful, handsome face. Not anger, not nearly enough emotion to fill the void that is Bad’s heart, but maybe it could be. He’ll try again tomorrow. Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that something? There’s so much emotion he can’t feel any of it at all.

Maybe it’s a bad dream. There were no remains. There was just Dapper’s top hat, and Pomme’s beret. No shell, no dead eggs. No eggs. It’s driving him mad, the maybe-yes maybe-no nature of his children’s fate.

He thinks, maybe, that tomorrow he will build a drill.

Today, the world is dark beneath the sombrero, and the grass is scratchy and full of small twigs. Foolish laughs once, too loud. Automatically, Bad pushes himself up, because he knows Foolish, and knows how long he’s been away from the group, and he feels sick. He fumbles for his warpstone and- Foolish’s head pops around the corner- Bad freezes. Too late.

Foolish looks at him, grin bright and neverending. Bad looks back. He can’t bring himself to say anything- he drops the sombrero at their feet.

Foolish’s smile fades. Bad activates his warpstone again and, though the particles, he sees Foolish give him a sharp, left-handed salute. Bad can’t bite back his little laugh; Foolish knows him, too.

And then Foolish is gone. The world is purple. Then the world ends, once again, in Bad’s home. All of Dapper’s machines have stopped. Echoing noise to almost-echoing silence. Ah. Right. None of the island’s machines are working correctly. Bad will have to make a smaller drill. But he will build his drill, and he will dig, and he will find his son.

“Dapper?” he calls, his voice cracking. The sound echoes. Only the animals answer back- they’re the only thing that stops the base from being completely silent. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. There’s so many animals here. What good company. It occurs to Bad, suddenly, that they’re good company. Dapper is gone, and his animals are still here, and Bad-

He won’t kill Dapper’s pets. He is suddenly holding his scythe and he won’t hurt his son’s pets because he can’t trade them for his son and there’s a special sort of heartache to the fact that his son left behind instructions to machines that don’t work and so many animals that can’t keep Bad company the way Dapper kept him company and Bad-

He’s holding his scythe. He’s holding the Sunshine Protector. He tries to take a breath but it comes out stuttery and he bites his tongue and. Dapper was-is always so sweet. He made Bonnie to keep Bad company, and Bad is always haunted by little ghosts but now most of all he is haunted by the love of his son.

“Where are you?” His voice cracks on the third word. He stumbles to Dapper’s room and doesn’t think about the fact that they never got to build one for Pomme.

The hole in his heart could swallow an island.

Please don’t take-

The scythe gets left outside. Bad can’t bear to look at it. Protector. There is a secure door in front of him that keeps nothing secure because now there is nothing to protect and Bad-

-my sunshine away.

He falls to his knees next to the empty bed. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Dapper.”

When the sob rises again, he lets it.

#qsmp #mishapen words #qsmp badboyhalo #first qsmp fic YIPPEEE #and its about #child death #and #angst #YIPPEEE #or child-missing lmao #i dont think the eggs are dead but i do think this is an uh oh #fun fact i started this a few weeks ago and then picked it up again after the uh. you know #VERY pleased with myself with my bbh read and predicting he'd be p quiet i love it when i can understand these weirdass cubes #the contradictions throughout weren't intentional until i realized they were happening and i leaned into it #i bet bad chose 'you are my sunshine' as a song for dapper SPECIFICALLY because then he could sing and cry about the second verse #after he lost his very fragile egg #which. i hope he never has to do that again that broke my fucking heart #he's just... qbad is an immortal who has grieved before but then he found skeppy and didnt have to keep grieving and now skeppy is gone and #his kids are gone and all he has left are his friends who he feels very betrayed by but who are all so. fucking kind about the loss #and they all lost their children but just like jaiden said he's like a third parent to all the eggs #he lost his kids and his bonus kids and he once sunk a city but what is the grief of thousands of strangers compared to the grief of #seven little eggs he loved so dearly #one little egg he would protect over skeppy #just....... idk its v late im gonna schedule this post i dont know if im making sense but the EGGS #the BADBOYHALO #the grief :c

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usertransducks · 4 months

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i’m frothing at the mouth the only duckverse stuff down here i can find is in blind bags

Michael Mouse please I ain’t risking getting a bunch of you in different outfits to maybe get Donald, Panchito, or maybe Josè (one of the mysteries was also wearing a sombrero so I think its him?) or risk other Disney Afternoon for Scrooge or Darkwing

————

edit: me after yet another store without my favorite birds:

#i got like… a tiny silver Donald at Michaels #Donald’s friend Mickey is everywhere though /hj #i’m tired of getting all my stuff people in europe selling on ebay #ducks txt

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afranciscomiradiezblr-blog · 13 days

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¿Anécdotas? Noticias ancianas...

En 1900, la vestimenta usada por los hombres holandeses estuvo muy influenciada por las condiciones climáticas predominantes en los Países Bajos.

El traje típico de los hombres incluía pantalones hechos de lana, con botones plateados en solapas cuadradas en la parte delantera (que se asemeja al atuendo de Mickey Mouse), junto con zuecos de madera, camisa, chaqueta y sombrero. El diseño y las dimensiones del sombrero variarán según la región en particular.

#Esta es la imagen y algunos datos (O no) la “Historia” la pones tú ¡La tuya! ¿Lo harás

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doodlewash · 3 months

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Taco Tuesday

For our prompt of “Taco” today, I sketched one with a little mouse wearing a sombrero. I love tacos, but tend to only eat them in spring and summer, usually with a cold beer or margarita. Though, Philippe and I never eat at restaurants during the weekdays, opting for only a Saturday lunch out each week. So, we’ve never really enjoyed those popular Taco Tuesday deals. One of our favorite Mexican…

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#WorldWatercolorGroup #doodlewash #drawing #food illustration #illustration #illustrator #mice #mouse #sketching #storybook #taco #watercolor #watercolour

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100yearoldcomics · 2 years

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July 2, 1922 Krazy Kat by George Herriman

[ID: Ignatz, hands on his hips, talks down to Bum Bill Bee, who walks past, shouldering a hobo's bindle. /end] Ignatz: And whither goest thou, Mr. Bum Bill Bee, is it hither, or yon, or either, or neither? It would please me to know. Bum Bill Bee: I go to meet my good friend "Krazy Kat," to render him a boon. Now that you know, what?

[ID: Ignatz looks on as Bill walks past. /end] Ignatz: Huh. Dern sassy "Bee," I'd say. I wish I knew a way to keep him from meeting that "Kat." It would be doing them both an injury. Which would be very soothing to me.

[ID: Ignatz bends over to look into the blossom of a bell-shaped flower. /end] Ignatz: Ah-h, little flower, maybe you can help me.

[ID: Ignatz throws his hands up into the air and waves them wildly, yelling out to Bum Bill Bee. /end] Ignatz: Ho, "Bee," come back!!! I crave a word with you!!!

[ID: Ignatz bends over to introduce Bum Bill Bee to the flower. /end] Ignatz: There is yet ample time in which you can keep your date with "Krazy," hence, might I not suggest that you tarry a while, and cull from this bonny blossom a bit of the sweet honey which lies within it's chalice. So generous a gift would please "Krazy" much, for he hath indeed a sweet tooth. Bill: Hm-m.

[ID: Bill flies up into the blossom, dropping his bindle on the grass as an eager Ignatz watches. /end] Bill: It is a pretty notion, Mr. Mouse, and I'll be dawgoned if I don't take thee at thy word. If I be a bit late, that dear "Kat" will no doubt forgive me, seeing as how I bear so sweet a gift. Ignatz: Yeh-h.

[ID: Ignatz peers inside the bell of the flower. /end] Ignatz: Y'in? Bill: Yeh.

[ID: A large clock tower in the background chimes four o'clock. Ignatz jumps up with glee as the flower clamps shut on Bum Bill Bee. /end] Ignatz: Ha-haa-aa, fool "Bee," you didn't know that flower was a "Four O'Clock," did you? Well, it's closed for the night. Good bye, "Bee." SFX: BONG BONG BONG BONG, SNAP Bill: Lemme out!

Caption: Night comes, and under the red tape tree, a villain slumbers while a moral moon unwillingly blankets him with a mantle of purity. [ID: Ignatz sleeps soundly, leaning back on the trunk of a tree in the middle of a field. /end]

Caption: In the meanwhile, "Officer Pupp" keeps his vigil of the night. [ID: Pupp, elsewhere, also leans back (standing) on a tree, sleeping upright with his baton in his arms. /end] Pupp: All's well.

Caption: And just before dawn... [ID: Pupp, a sunrise brightening the sky behind him, bends over to admire the Four O'Clock flower. /end] Pupp: Ah, a flower still folded in sleep, I shall pluck it, and lay it on the bosom of someone who also slumbers.

[ID: Pupp lays the plucked flower next to Krazy, who sleeps underneath a tree with ornaments hanging around the rim of its branches like a sombrero's brim. Krazy dreams of an angelic Ignatz in a heart-shaped thought balloon. /end] Pupp: Sweets to the sweet, say I. Two fair flowers enwrapped in dream.

Caption: Sin, no more than virtue, can slumber forever. So,... Well, it awakes, that's all. [ID: Ignatz sits up from the rock he was sleeping on and stretches blearily. /end] Ignatz: Ho hmm. T'is another day, and I must begin it right. By tossing a "brick" on "Krazy's" noodle.

Caption: Just at sunrise (fate finishes her knitting.) [ID: Ignatz walks up to the sleeping Krazy with a brick, just as the Four O'Clock flower opens up to let Bum Bill Bee out. They lock eyes. Krazy, unawares, dreams about kissing Ignatz. /end] Ignatz: ? Bill: Well.

[ID: Ignatz sprints down the road, pursued by Bill, who flies above him. /end] Ignatz: But Mr. Bee, I ask you. How long is this going to keep up, huh?? Bill: Oh, how about... say, until "Four O'Clock" this afternoon. And then...

[ID: Krazy awakens and sticks his head into the bell of the flower, sniffing its scent in deeply. Pupp, flushed with romantic nerves, looks on from behind him. /end] Pupp: All's well. Krazy: L'il ainjil. While I slepp, he koyishly gave me a pritty, pritty posy.

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #krazy kat #transcript available #1920s #subterfuge

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averys-happy-space · 1 year

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club penguin rambles

there are a LOT of images bc the post is abt cp outfits. but also a ton of text bc i talk way too much. also I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG ACC. I POSTED IT ON MY THEME TESTING BLOG BY ACCIDENT SO I HAD TO REPOST THIS. its the 11pm brain fog getting to me

okay so club penguin released a new clothing catalogue for november and here's my hippie fall outfit i came up with. it's designed around the sweater bc i thought the sweater was super cute but there wasn't any other hand item except guitar that really matched with the outfit. and like yes i could have it without the guitar (which i did do to take the 2nd pic) but i wanna equip a hand item!!! which sounds really stupid bc it is stupid but i'm picky and idc. the sweater IS adorable tho like look at it, its got little puffles on it and shit!!!! fucking adorable!!! and the colour is so pretty and nice too :3c i would buy that sweater if it existed irl. also look at the cool ass ghost puffle!!! their name is goober LMAO i dont rmb why i named them that. i think i was thinking like goofy goober but i already have an orange puffle named goofy ah so i guess thats why i just named this ghost puffle goober? genuinely i have no fucking clue. but i'm gonna keep them around cuz they look dope as fuck and also they match my penguins purple skin colour which i think is neat.

other outfits

since i am making a post abt cp outfits i also decided to add my previous outfits (that i have screenshots of) to this post too just to archive them so i can come back in 10 yrs and be like wow 16 yr old me had horrible fashion taste. (i hope tumblr is still around in 10 yrs. i mean, its lasted 15 yrs, so like whats another 10 right?)

for context:

the first one is one of my earliest outfits which i made with help & advice from moose bc i suck at fashion (thank u moose). i think it looks cool, tho there wasnt like a theme or anything that i was going for. i just liked the hair + jacket and wanted to make an outfit with it lol

the pizza one is from the pizza party event. do not ask me why they had a pizza party event. i have no idea. anyway it was really stupid but fun and i suck at the pizzatron 3000 minigame. i wanted to use a mouse for it but my mom took my mouse when she took my gaming pc so i had to use mac trackpad to play and boy it was Not good. also i gave my puffle jellybean a sombrero which i know is mexican and pizzas are from italy but i didnt know what else to give him!!! plus he looks really stupid cuz the sombrero is massive which i think is cute. oh yea, also i met rookie during the pizza party and i wanted to equip his background but my penguin covers half of rookies body and it didnt look good so i ended up going for this bg instead. its kinda lame but whatever, i still got to meet rookie and thats all that matters <3 (btw, for context, theres lots of npc mascots in the game and every so often they "come online" (its just a bot walking around really) and if u join the same area as them, u get a stamp + bg gift. i met rookie & jetpack guy during the pizza party and got their stamps and gifts but i love rookie more lol, hence why i wanted to use his bg. its too sad it didnt fit nicely bc i think its a p cool bg but oh well)

the bottom two are just variations of each other. basically for the sept or oct catalogue (i forgot which), the cp team added a bunch of punk stuff and i bought all of it bc it actually looked dope as hell. the one on the left came first but i didnt rlly vibe w the hair which is why i ended up changing it. also, the wings are a neck item which is why the first outfit doesn't have the dog tags even tho i wanted them. couldn't have both ): anyway, the second one came about after i got to meet cadence during the music party and i LOVE cadence (i had a massive crush on her when i was younger. like literally shes so pretty?!!) so i got rid of the raven wings so u can see her face in the bg. i can't lie i do think the bg is a bit lame bc its completely empty on the right which makes it feel kinda unbalanced, also u can see i have the cadence signature pin equipped. u can't change the positioning of the pin which sucks bc i would've put it on the right if i could but oh well. and yea i added the dog tags since no more wings. i accidentally clicked jellybean before taking this pic so it sent him home LMAOOO and i couldnt be bothered to get him back at the time so thats why hes missing from the pic. overall i think this outfit is def my favourite, the vibes are just so good. i love punk. oh and also the vampire teeth are bc the catalogue was mainly a halloween theme and well, they looked cool lol

for the record, jellybean is my favourite puffle hence why hes in all these pics. idk why but i just love white puffles, theyre so adorable and smiley despite being shy. also white puffles are slightly smaller than all other puffles which makes them 10x cuter. but i'm gonna keep goober around for a while just cuz they look cool as fuck. but i'll prob switch over back to jellybean when its closer to xmas. anyway its now 1120pm (i spent like half an hour writing this) so im going to sleep. goodnight

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tayarthur · 5 months

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Stereotypes in American Media

While my classmates presentation on Stereotypes in American Media touches on this point too, the origins of stereotypes in the US stems from systemic racism. In the article, Blackface: The Birth of An American Stereotypefrom the Nation Museum of African American History and Culture, the author discusses how poor white working Americans in the beginning of our country used skin color and the 'other' as a way to scape goat their struggle and misery. By minimizing the "other" they were able escape the realities of their situations on a surface level. "The whole idea of a stereotype is to simplify," stated Chinua Achebe in the article.

Graphics, photographs and illustrations have been used across generations to cement stereotypes in the brains of the masses. Some of the best ways this has been implemented is in entertainment. One clear example that comes to mind is Mr. Yunioshi from the classic "Breakfast at Tiffany's" film staring mega actress Audry Hepburn. In theFar Out magazine article published in October of 2022, the allegations that Yunioshi's character was racist was debated soon after the films release, but it was lauded by movie professionals as a necessary character, despite the foundation of the character having no character arc, depicted in traditional dress and spoken down to by Hepburn in the now famous line, "Don’t be angry you dear little man. I promise not to do it again."

Depictions in media that focus on someones class, race, physical features, gender etc... reinforce stereotypes, which serve to place human beings into singular boxes. These stereotypes tell us "I am better than him/she/they." This mindset plays perfectly into the "American Idealism" that is historic to our culture. For example, the cartoon my classmates cited, "Speedy Gonzales," had both of these characteristics. The character of Speedy Gonzales in the clip we watched was always steeling his friends women, despite not having 'worked' for the attention. The mouse characters were depicted as fat, short brown beings with large sombreros. The female characters were depicted as helpless, meek, and also fiery at times. By providing something perceivably entertaining to watch, these concepts get unconsciously swept into the audiences brains.

My classmates argued that to dispel these stereotypes, we must just stop allowing them to occur. Or, if that is not achievable - be educated enough to spot them, call them out for what they are, and ultimately accept our fellow human beings as they are. This means, not putting them into a preconceived box to belittle them or ignore them.

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magicalshipment · 8 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Disney Parks - The Three Caballeros Ear Headband for Adults – Disney100.

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tengomilpalabrasparati · 11 months

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Hoy homenajeamos a un personaje muy especial y ampliamente conocido en todo el mundo. El 9 de junio se celebra el Día Mundial del Pato Donald.

Esta merecida distinción se hizo en honor a la primera aparición de este singular personaje de dibujos animados de Walt Disney, creado por Dick Landy el 9 de junio de 1934 en el cortometraje "The Wise Little Hen". Es por ello que se escogió esta fecha para la creación de la efeméride.

¿Quién es el Pato Donald?

Su aspecto físico ha ido modificándose progresivamente, reflejado en su pico, patas y abdomen. Eso sí, conserva su traje y gorra azul de estilo marinero que lo caracteriza, así como su ira incontenible, mal humor y mala suerte ¡Siempre ocurría algo que arruinaba su día irremediablemente!

Sin embargo, nunca intentaba lastimar a nadie. Era algo presumido y perezoso, con un temperamento de mil demonios.

Tenía innumerables trabajos y no lograba mantener ninguno. Podía ser un pescador frustrado o un jugador de hockey con poco talento, pero siempre estaba dispuesto –o indispuesto- a todos los retos que se le presentaban.

Ha sido protagonista de innumerables cortometrajes, historietas y películas animadas infantiles, con su singular manera de saltar sobre uno de sus pies cuando se enfadaba por algún motivo.

De acuerdo a la revista TV Guide, ocupa el quinto puesto entre los mejores personajes de dibujos animados de todos los tiempos.

La familia del Pato Donald

Su grupo familiar es muy peculiar, e igualmente querido y apreciado por grandes y chicos: Su novia la Pata Daisy, ha sido su fiel compañera de aventuras y desventuras. Sus amados sobrinos los trillizos Hugo, Paco y Luis, son muy traviesos y ocurrentes. Y el tío tacaño Rico Mc Pato (conocido también como Tío Gilito en España), con su inseparable sombrero de copa y su bastón.

Curiosidades sobre el Pato Donald

¿Sabías que el Pato Donald ha sido nominado 8 veces para los premios Oscar de la Academia? En el año 1943 ganó una estatuilla dorada por el cortometraje "El rostro del Führer", cuyo film fue objeto de una gran polémica por su temática central.

La voz del Pato Donald fue interpretada durante cincuenta años por Clarence Nash, siendo reemplazado en el año 1985 por Tony Anselmo, luego de su muerte.

Sus inolvidables amigos Mickey Mouse, Minnie, Goofy y Pluto se unen a esta gran celebración ¡Feliz cumpleaños Donald! #patodonald #FelizCumpleDonald

#El 9 de junio se celebra el Día Mundial del Pato Donald.

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jandroitu · 2 years

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Aтом ( 80 x 80 x 5 cm).- Nueva pintura acrílica sobre tablero de madera. Cuadro perteneciente a la serie “ quadrophenia” es un compendio de los personajes de cómic < Mickey Mouse>, < Popeye> y < Mujer con sombrero> pintada por Picasso #atom #mickey #popeye #popart #painting #quadrophenia #colour #artist #artistic https://www.instagram.com/p/CdsR3MLjvMb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#atom #mickey #popeye #popart #painting #quadrophenia #colour #artist #artistic

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abbyofthecosmos · 2 years

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Spanish Vocab - First 600 Words

I came across a list of the first 600 words a language learner should learn in their target language, and thought I should make a Spanish version! This took a while to make so forgive me if there are some mistakes, but hopefully you'll find this helpful. Happy learning!

Animals:

dog el perro

cat el gato

fish el pez

bird el pájaro

cow la vaca

pig el cerdo

mouse el ratón

horse el caballo

wing el ala

animal el animal

Colour:

red el rojo

green el verde

blue el azul

yellow el amarillo

pink el rosado

orange el naranja

purple el morado

brown el marron

black el negro

white el blanco

grey el gris

colour el color

Clothing:

hat el sombrero

dress el vestido

suit el traje

skirt la falda

shirt la camisa

T-shirt la camiseta

trousers los pantalones

shoes los zapatos

pocket el bolsillo

coat el abrigo

stain la mancha

clothing la ropa

jewellery la joyería

Transportation:

train el tren

plane el avión

car el carro

truck el camión

bicycle la bicicleta

bus el autobús

boat el barco

tire el neumático

petrol la gasolina

engine el motor

ticket el boleto

transportation el transporte

Location:

city la cuidad

house la casa

apartment el apartamento

street la calle

airport el aeropuerto

train station la estación de tren

bridge el puente

hotel el hotel

restaurant el restaurante

farm la granja

school la escuela

office la oficina

room la habitación

town el pueblo

university la universidad

club la discoteca

bar el bar

park el parque

camp el campamento

shop la tienda

theatre el teatro

library la biblioteca

hospital el hospital

church la iglesia

market el mercado

country el país

building el edificio

outer space el espacio

bank el banco

location el lugar

People:

son el hijo

daughter la hija

mother la madre

father el padre

parents los padres

baby el/la bebé

man el hombre

woman la mujer

brother el hermano

sister la hermana

family la familia

grandfather el abuelo

grandmother la abuela

husband el esposo

wife la esposa

king el rey

queen la reina

prince el príncipe

princess la princesa

president el presidente

neighbour el vecino

boy el niño

girl la niña

adult el adulto

friend el amigo

person la persona

Job:

teacher el profesor

student el/la estudiante

lawyer el abogado

doctor el médico

nurse el enfermero

patient el paciente

waiter el camarero

secretary el secretario

priest el sacerdote

police officer el policía

soldier el soldado

artist el artista

author el autor

manager el director

boss el jefe

worker el trabajador

employee el empleado

journalist el periodista

actor el actor

job el trabajo

Society:

religion la religión

heaven el cielo

hell el infierno

death la muerte

life la vida

medicine la medicina

money el dinero

bill la cuenta

reservation la reserva

marriage el matrimonio

wedding la boda

team el equipo

race (ethnicity) la raza

sex el sexo

technology la tecnología

energy la energía

war la guerra

peace la paz

magazine la revista

newspaper el periódico

sport el deporte

race (sport) la carrera

exercise el ejercicio

ball la pelota

game (sports) el partido

game (amusement) el juego

price el precio

contract el contrato

science la ciencia

God el dios

Art:

painting la pintura

band la banda

song la canción

instrument el instrumento

music la música

movie la película

art el arte

gallery la galería

poem el poema

museum el museo

statue la estatua

Beverages:

coffee el café

tea el té

wine el vino

beer la cerveza

juice el jugo

water el agua

milk la leche

beverage la bebida

Food:

egg el huevo

cheese el queso

bread el pan

soup la sopa

cake el pastel

chicken el pollo

pork el cerdo

beef la carne de vaca

apple la manzana

banana el plátano

orange la naranja

lemon el limón

corn el maíz

rice el arroz

oil el aceite

knife el cuchillo

spoon la cuchara

fork el tenedor

plate el plato

cup la taza

bowl el bol

breakfast el desayuno

lunch el almuerzo

dinner la cena

sugar el azúcar

salt la sal

bottle la botella

food la comida

snack la merienda

Home:

table la mesa

chair la silla

bed la cama

dream el sueño

window la ventana

door la puerta

bedroom el cuarto

kitchen la cocina

bathroom el baño

pencil el lápiz

pen el bolígrafo

photograph la fotografía

soap el jabón

book el libro

page la página

key la llave

paint la pintura

letter la carta

note la nota

paper el papel

wall la pared

floor el piso

ceiling el techo

pool la piscina

lock la cerradura

telephone el teléfono

garden el jardín

needle la aguja

thread el hilo

wool la lana

bag la bolsa

box la caja

gift el regalo

card la tarjeta

Electronics:

clock el reloj

lampla lámpara

fan el ventilador

mobile phone el teléfono móvil

website el sitio web

network la red

computer la computadora

program (computer) el programa

laptop el portátil

screen la pantalla

camera la cámara

television la televisión

radio el radio

Body:

head la cabeza

neck el cuello

face la cara

beard la barba

moustache el bigote

hair el pelo

eye el ojo

mouth la boca

lip el labio

nose la nariz

tooth el diente

ear la oreja

teardrop la lágrima

tongue la lengua

back la espalda

hand la mano

finger el dedo

foot el pie

toe el dedo del pie

leg la pierna

arm el brazo

shoulder el hombre

elbow el codo

knee la rodilla

heart el corazón

chest el pecho

blood la sangre

brain el cerebro

bone el hueso

voice la voz

skin la piel

body el cuerpo

Nature:

sea el mar

ocean el océano

river el río

lake el lago

mountain la montaña

rain la lluvia

snow la nieve

wind el viento

sun el sol

moon la luna

tree el árbol

grass el césped

world el mundo

earth la tierra

forest el bosque

sky el cielo

plant la planta

flower la flor

valley el valle

hill la colina

leaf la hoja

star la estrella

planet el planeta

space el espacio

air el aire

sand la arena

beach la playa

wave la ola

fire el fuego

ice el hielo

island la isla

heat el calor

nature la naturaleza

Materials:

glass el vidrio

metal el metal

plastic el plástico

wood la madera

stone la piedra

diamond el diamante

dust el polvo

gold el oro

copper el cobre

silver la plata

bronze el bronce

material el material

Maths/Measurements:

metre el metro

centimetre el centímetro

kilogram el kilogramo

inch la pulgada

foot el pie

pound la libra

half la mitad

quarter el cuarto

circle el círculo

square el cuadrado

triangle el triángulo

temperature la temperatura

date la fecha

edge el borde

corner la esquina

weight el peso

width el ancho

height la altura

length el largo

Directions:

top la cima

bottom el fondo

side el lado

outside fuera

inside dentro

up arriba

down abajo

left la izquierda

right la derecha

north el norte

south el sur

east el este

west el oeste

near cerca

far lejos

direction la dirección

Seasons:

spring la primavera

summer el verano

autumn el otoño

winter el invierno

season la estación

Months:

January el enero

February el febrero

March el marzo

April el abril

May el mayo

June el junio

July el julio

August el agosto

September el septiembre

October el octubre

November el noviembre

December el diciembre

month el mes

Days of the week:

Monday el lunes

Tuesday el martes

Wednesday el miércoles

Thursday el jueves

Friday el viernes

Saturday el sábado

Sunday el domingo

day el día

Time:

today hoy

year el año

week la semana

hour la hora

minute el minuto

second el segundo

morning la mañana

afternoon la tarde

night la noche

decade la década

century el siglo

time el tiempo

Misc:

map el mapa

dot el punto

consonant la consonante

vowel la vocal

light la luz

sound el sonido

piece el pedazo

pain el dolor

injury la herida

hole el agujero

image la imagen

noun el sustantivo

verb el verbo

adjective el adjetivo

flag la bandera

birthday el cumpleaños

Christmas la Navidad

passport el pasaporte

holiday las vacaciones

luggage el equipaje

trip el viaje

Numbers

0 cero

1 uno

2 dos

3 tres

4 cuatro

5 cinco

6 seis

7 siete

8 ocho

9 nueve

10 diez

11 once

12 doce

13 trece

14 catorce

15 quince

16 dieciséis

17 diecisiete

18 dieciocho

19 diecinueve

20 veinte

21 veintiuno

22 veintidós

30 treinta

40 cuarenta

50 cincuenta

60 sesenta

70 setenta

80 ochenta

90 noventa

100 cien

1000 mil

million millón

billion mil millones

1st primero

2nd segundo

3rd tercero

4th cuarto

5th quinto

number el número

Verbs:

to have tener

to work trabajar

to play jugar

to make hacer

to walk caminar

to run correr

to drive manejar

to fly volar

to swim nadar

to go ir

to stop parar

to follow seguir

to think pensar

to know saber

to speak hablar

to eat comer

to drink beber

to kill matar

to die morir

to live vivir

to smile sonreír

to laugh reír

to cry llorar

to buy comprar

to pay pagar

to sell vender

to learn aprender

to jump saltar

to smell oler

to hear oír

to listen escuchar

to taste probar

to touch tocar

to see ver

to watch mirar

to kiss besar

to hug abrazar

to sit sentarse

to stand levantarse

to want querer

to love encantar

to hate odiar

to like gustar

to pass by pasar

to cut cortar

to fight pelear

to lie down acostarse

to dance bailar

to sing cantar

to sleep dormir

to wake despertar

to count contar

to marry casar

to pray rezar

to win ganar

to lose perder

to mix mezclar

to bend doblar

to wash lavar

to clean limpiar

to cook cocinar

to open abrir

to close cerrar

to write escribir

to read leer

to call llamar

to turn girar

to build construir

to teach enseñar

to grow crecer

to draw dibujar

to feed alimentar

to catch agarrar

to throw tirar

to search for buscar

to find encontrar

to push empujar

to pull jalar

to carry cargar

to break romper

to wear llevar

to hang colgar

to shake agitar

to lift levanter

Adjectives:

long largo

short (length) corto

tall alto

short (height) bajo

wide ancho

narrow estrecho

big grande

small pequeño

fast rápido

slow lento

hot caliente

cold frío

warm cálido

cool fresco

new nuevo

old viejo

young joven

good bueno

bad malo

wet mojado

dry seco

sick enfermo

healthy saludable

loud ruidoso

quiet tranquilo

happy feliz

sad triste

beautiful hermoso

ugly feo

deaf sordo

blind ciego

nice simpático

rich rico

poor pobre

thick grueso

thin delgado

expensive caro

cheap barato

flat plano

curved curvada

straight recto

tight apretado

loose holgado

soft suave

hard duo

deep profundo

clean limpio

dirty sucio

strong fuerte

weak débil

dead muerto

alive vivo

heavy pesado

light (weight) ligero

dark oscuro

light (colour) claro

famous famoso

Thank you for reading :)

If you have any requests for vocab lists you would like to see please let me know!

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