PEDRO PASCAL As JAVIER PEÑA Narcos | 1.04: The Palace In Flames

THE LAST OF US 1.01 “When You’re Lost in the Darkness”

The last of us (2023) + References

Pedro Pascal to THR:

“I don’t have kids. I’ve only learned through these characters how painfully vulnerable one becomes and how much your life depends on their life being OK. It’s a fun fantasy to fulfill, and I’ll play as many dads as I can get.”

Passing Ships #1

Chapter One: Lifeless Frame

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word count: 1.7k Summary: You live next door to Joel. Your older brother knew him and had smuggled with him in the past. You make your rations by taking bodies from trucks and burning them. However, the body of a 15 year old girl catches you off guard causing you to have a panic attack and Joel attempts to comfort you. Warnings: mention of bodies, fluff, panic attack, anxiety, sleepy Joel. AN; This is the first fic ive ever written but im making a series out of this. im 20 and i have no idea what im doing i just thought this would be fun to write and it was. Please give me some feedback I would love to hear what people think ❤️

Harsh sunlight peaks through the dusty shades of your so-called room and you toss and turn in your bed as you try to fight the sun's gaze. Sleep never comes easy to you. It never really did as your older brother Jake playfully recalled to you every time you complain.  

“Can never get any fucking sleep with you around. Too much wriggling” he’d say before he ran to Portland. You close your eyes and you’re met with that pursed smirk you know all too well.

It was just meant to be a ‘quick trip’ as your Mum said on the plane to New York from Liverpool, where Jake recalled being completely content. There was nothing quick about it though. The outbreak prevented you from going home. You couldn’t remember much and it left you with an empty calling, like you knew you didn’t belong here. You have always longed for more and you always will. You and Jake don’t talk about her much anymore. You can feel it though just like he can, there’s no need to talk about it and you’re both comfortable with that. Your accent hangs loosely from your lips whilst your brothers remains, despite the years being surrounded by Americans.

You languidly roll yourself off the stained mattress, even when it longs for you to crawl back in and shield yourself from the world. You take one more glance at the imprint your body left behind before sighing and stretching yourself awake. You sniff your tank top, deciding on whether or not it's ready to wear for another day or two. It's not like anyone cares besides you anyway and no one's got the time to worry about whether they smell or not. They're too busy struggling out every breath they can, whilst they still have breath.

You nod with satisfaction that you don’t smell like hot garbage. Your jeans hang just below your stomach and are rough as they rip your thighs to shreds as you walk to the bathroom. The standard toothpaste rationed out to you every month tastes bitter and bland on your tongue. Your brothers' hands-offs, shirts, jeans and jackets are all you have as a reminder of how much he used to take care of you. Everything he had to give. It all went to you.

You brace yourself on the sink as you push out all the breath out of your lungs in an attempt to shake the thundering against the side of your head. Once your shoes are secure for their large size against your smaller foot, you aggressively open the door. Frustrated as to what job you will have to be doing today in exchange for mediocre ration cards for food that catches in your throat as you swallow down the bitter aftertastes.

You grimace at the job card given to you yesterday: ‘Waste removal’, meaning taking poor souls from trucks and burning their bodies to a crisp. The thought makes you pause before you see the scruffy broad shoulders out of the corner of your eye make their way towards the door next to yours. You acknowledge his presence with a nod, and he stares blankly through his eyebrows. A passive remark that hes not going to offer you the same consideration, despite knowing your brother before he made his way to Portland. You scoff, irritation bubbling in your chest. Before you can dig yourself a grave, you lock the door to your room and watch as he opens the door to his before slamming it shut behind him, making the door frame creek due to the force. Fuck you then.

You carry endless bodies to the fire pit from the truck. your eyes watering due to the fumes from the fire which licks at the air. It grows as people continue to chuck the bodies in. You dont think about the time passing. Your mind is set on the outcome for this shit job. You all do the work that they cant be bothered doing. They dont want to take responsability for the bdies so they leave it to the lot of you. Its easier to forget they were people once if you throw them in trucks and send them away I suppose.

You’re coming to the end of your 6-hour shift and pushing yourself through the grueling process of removing the lifeless frames from the truck that came in 3 times a week. Frames that were once filled with people. Up until now you have been rather good at keeping the wall in your mind solid. Not thinking too much about what they were. You couldn’t let yourself realize what you were doing. You turn and your eyes don’t open but you can see it plain as day. The air escaped your lungs momentarily as you saw the last limp body of what you presumed to be a young girl in the truck. They couldn’t have been more than 15 based on their height and weight. Their face was wrapped tight, but you couldn’t help but picture their presence in your mind. What they sounded like. The thoughts and pictures were swirling in your brain, washing away all your other senses. You could feel your chest constrict as you throw her into the flames. You hold the emotions that want to roll down your face at bay. Holding that feeling of the weight in your throat and stomach.  

You make quick work of collecting your ration cards for your work that day. The icy feeling in your sternum thawing and you know you can't hold it for long. Night is casting shadows over the decrepit buildings, and you can feel the atmosphere swiftly change dark as you quicken your pace towards your room. You don’t even make it 3 feet in front of your door before the feeling in your chest breaks loose and shatters through you. You can physically feel the lump in your throat grow and harden. The tears sting your eyes, and you slid down the wall clasping at your mouth and neck. 

No sounds escape. You won't let them. The tears lick at your face, and you can taste them as they slip onto your lips. You sit in silence and breathe deeply, your face grimacing. A child. Shot and killed. You rip the gloves off your hands that had touched her.  

Just as the breath in your lungs returns and your vision clears enough to see the moldy wall in front of you, you take one final moment to collect your remaining thoughts and lock them away. The door to your right creaks open and out comes a dark figure. You don’t have to guess as to who it is.  

“I heard your brother made his way into Portland”. The low, hoarse voice startles you for a second despite knowing he was there. You hadnt expected him to make any attempt to talk to you. He had no reason to after all and Joel isn’t the kind of man to make conversation with anyone let alone you. It wasnt that he didnt like you. You knew that it was pure disinterest. You didnt have anything he wanted and you were content with that knowledge for some reason as wherever he and Tess went someone always ended up bloody and you happened to like your face the way it was. You cast your eyes over him, hed obviously been asleep from the look of his hair, the way it sticks up and out.

“Yeah. He...Uh...got out of this shithole”. You chuckle dryly and sniff back the emotions laid bare on your face. Even with the veil of darkness on your faces, you could tell he was reading your face like a book or trying to. It's certainly not hard to tell what was reeling in your head. He understands. You know he does. He just doesn’t wear his thoughts on his face or anywhere else for that matter. They're hidden. They don’t breach the surface. Not for you anyway and you don’t want them too. You don’t need anyone besides Jake. You’ve been just fine with him. Your brother can read you like no one else and you love that. The unspoken trust and dedication towards each other are something you must have in this world. Almost like a father and daughter considering hes closer to Joels age than yours.

“Always a good one. Never sold me short, even when he could” Joels face is stern but there is a sleepy softness to it like he hasn’t finished putting his mask on yet and the menacing aura you and everyone else is familiar with is just ebbing under his skin. Waiting for a reason. You drag your limbs upward from your place on the floor. He steps back and gives you a nod similar to the one you gave him earlier.  

“I’ll see ya, Joel” You groan as you stand and make the rest of the way over to your room but before you have a chance to put your key in the door, Joel moves calmly but swiftly to stop you by taking your arm. You snap your face to him and watch as he tries to come up with words like he wasn’t expecting this of himself, and neither were you.  

“Dont think. Its better that way” he says lowly as if he doesn’t want anyone else but you to hear. His gaze lingers on your lip as you nod and accept his words. He doesn't even know your name and yet he exudes such familiarity and softness even though you’ve never spoken to him. He loosens the light grip on your arm, and you lick your lips, the taste of your salty tears still lingers on them, a reminder of why you were so exhausted. You quickly wriggle out of his grasp, overwhelmed. Turning the key and moving through your apartment, closing the door behind you with a light force. You don’t hear Joel move; you only hear the soft sound of his breathing on the other side of the door before the sound of his is closing once again

What the actual fuck.

You are left breathless as before. Although, the delightful fire in your lower belly causes your legs to press together. Ah. You hadnt expected Joel Miller to coax the screams from your head and lash them at the wall but you werent complaining. 

No.

Your focus was finding safe passage to Jake. This was fucking stupid, you dont have time for this. You kick off everything besides your underwear and curl yourself up under the covers. Your skin burns on your arm, where he touched you. His skin lingers on yours and with that knowledge you somehow find sleep that night. 

Pedro Pascal is Joel Miller

THESE PICTURES OF JOEL OMFG, THE MONSTROSITIES ID LET THIS MAN DO TO ME OMD

The Last of Us showrunner Craig Mazin explains why they removed the spores from the series

“In the world we are creating, if we put spores in the air, it would mean they would spread everywhere and everyone would have to wear a mask at all times.”

"Not all men..."

Yeah your right José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal would never treat me like this

I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.

I used the photomode mod to take a look at Astarion's love confession scene. Normally, the camera is focused on Tav when choosing what to say.

These are the expressions Astarion is making off-screen while you are hovering over dialogue options.