Wholesome / Soft!abby Learning How To Do Things Simply Because She Loves You. (modern Au) ✿

timebomb !

abby fic- becoming a parent with you

. ݁₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ . ݁₊ ⊹

soft!abby / wholesome!abby / mommy!abby | modern au

this will be pt1 of a short series so bear with me! ᡣ𐭩 pt2 is here

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The apartment is dim, the only light coming from my desk lamp left on low. We were lying on my twin bed, facing each other under a shared blanket that barely fits two. Abby's arm is tucked under my pillow, close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin across the space between us, though neither has reached out yet.

It's quiet-one of those heavy, still silences that doesn't feel awkward. Just full. I’ve been watching Abby's eyes shift softly between me and the ceiling. She's been thinking too much. She always does, when it's this late.

I shift slightly, resting my cheek on her hand, my voice barely more than a breath. "Did you ever want kids?"

Abby blinks. Her brow tightens just slightly— enough for me to worry I’ve overstepped.

But Abby doesn't deflect. She just lets the quiet stretch out longer, like she's really thinking about it.

"I don't know," Abby finally says, voice low and flat in the way it gets when she's feeling something but doesn't want to admit it yet. "I never really let myself think about it." Her eyes shift to meet mine. "It never felt like something I could picture."

I nod, slow. "I don't think I did either," I say. "Still don't, most days. I just... wondered if that's something you ever saw for yourself. Or not."

Abby's mouth twitches at the corner-almost a smile, almost a wince. "I don't think I ever saw anything for myself," she admits, eyes softening. "Not until recently."

She doesn't say it. But I hear it in the pause. In the way Abby's gaze flickers to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

There's a beat of stillness, heavy with something unsaid. My heart thumps, and my hand shifts between us, resting near Abby's wrist. Not touching. Just close enough.

Abby turns toward me a little more. Her voice is softer now. "If I ever did want that... anything close to that... it'd have to be with someone like you."

I swallow around the lump in my throat and give a small nod. My fingers graze Abby's wrist, lingering just enough. "Okay," I whisper, barely audible. "That's good to know."

We don't say anything else. We don't have to.

Abby shifts an inch closer, enough for our foreheads to rest together, and closes her eyes. It's not a declaration. It's just a beginning.

── .✦·········────

The visit had gone well — better than either of us expected, really.

Our friends from college, a couple who had always felt a little older than the rest of the group, had just had their first baby a few months ago.

I squealed the second I saw the tiny thing wrapped in a patterned swaddle, and Abby, who normally looked like she could carry a fridge without breaking a sweat, held the infant with surprisingly practiced gentleness.

Abby had gone a little quiet during the visit, but not in a bad way. Just... watching. Observing. Taking it all in. I had watched her watching — the way she cradled the baby without hesitation, the way she grinned when the baby grabbed her finger in those impossibly small hands, the way she had instinctively swayed when standing, like she'd done it a hundred times before.

On the walk home, my hand slipped into Abby's. It was cold outside, but Abby's palms, as always, ran warm. "She really liked you," I said, nudging her shoulder. "You're a natural."

Abby gave a small shrug, cheeks a little pink from the cold - or maybe something else.

𓂃₊

Back at the apartment, we kicked off our shoes and flopped onto the couch, Miso curling between us in a warm little loaf. For a while, it was just quiet — the kind of silence we didn't need to fill — until I broke it, my voice tentative.

"Did it... feel weird to you?" I asked. "Being there?"

Abby shifted slightly. "Not weird. Just... different. Familiar in a way that kind of caught me off guard."

I nodded, running my fingers gently over Miso's back. "I always thought I wouldn't want that," I said. "I think part of me still feels scared of the idea. Of not being ready. Of messing something up. But when you were holding her, and you smiled like that..." My voice trailed off. "I don't know. It made me think about it. Like, really think about it."

Abby leaned her head back against the couch cushion, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I used to imagine it, sometimes. Just in passing. What it'd be like, if l ever got to have a family. But it always felt distant — something l'd be good at, sure, but not something l'd actually want. I didn’t see it for myself." She turned to face me. "But… then you showed up. And now we have a cat who thinks she owns the world, and I wake up every day wanting to take care of you. So yeah... I think I could want that. With you. You make me want things I didn't think I'd ever want." She exhaled, with the smallest smile.

My chest fluttered - not just from the words, but the way she said them. Carefully. Earnestly.

"I don't need it to be right now. I don't even know how we'd do it. But I realized something. I don't want a kid — I want your kid. I want to build something that's part of you. I want to see you holding them, and think, 'That's my whole world in one room!" She swallowed. "It's terrifying. But it feels right. You feel right."

I didn't say anything for a long moment. My book slid closed in my lap. "You really mean that?" I asked softly. "You're not just saying it?" I blinked at her, my eyes a little shiny now.

Abby nodded, leaning forward, brushing her fingers over my knee. "I mean it."

A small, wobbly breath left my lungs, like something inside me had been waiting a long time to hear those words. I scooted closer, curling into Abby's side, one hand resting over her heart. "I didn't think I wanted it either," I whispered. "But with you... I think l've been wanting it for a while now. I just didn't want to want it, because it felt impossible. And because I didn't want to want it with anyone else but you."

I smiled, and after a moment, leaned in and kissed her softly. Miso meowed indignantly between us, and we both laughed, breaking the tension. Abby tugged me close again, wrapping me up in the warmth she always carried like it belonged to both of us.

"Not now. Not soon. But... someday." I whispered into her shoulder.

"Someday sounds perfect," Abby murmured, kissing the top of my head, her arm wrapped around me tightly. "We've got time. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," I breathed, my face tucked against Abby's shoulder. "We always do."

We sat like that for awhile - just holding each other, letting the idea settle between us. No pressure. No timelines. Just the beginning of a shared future, quiet and full of possibilities. It wasn't a plan yet. It wasn't concrete. But for the first time, we let ourselves imagine it- together.

── .✦·········────

It started one night in the kitchen — not with a serious conversation, not with any grand declaration. Barefoot, sweatpants, standing at the counter flipping through a magazine.

Miso was perched on the windowsill, tail flicking, watching something only she could see. Abby stood at the stove, cooking dinner, sleeves rolled up and brow furrowed in concentration.

"You ever think about how we'd actually do it?" I asked casually, still reading. "If we ever had a kid, I mean."

Abby didn't look away from the pan. "Like logistically?"

"Yeah."

A pause. The sound of sizzling onions. Then Abby turned the burner down and finally looked over, a brow raised. "Is this hypothetical curiosity, or are you saying we should start looking into it?"

I shrugged, cheeks pink. "Maybe a little of both."

Abby set the spatula down and leaned back against the counter beside me. "Alright," she said slowly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Let’s say it’s not hypothetical.”

I looked up at her with wide eyes, so much gentleness held in the question I hadn't fully asked yet. "I want to know our options," I said. "If or when we get there."

Abby nodded. "Okay. So we research. See what feels right."

We spent the next week here and there reading articles and bookmarking sites, curled up on the couch in the evenings with one laptop balanced between us and Miso tucked between our knees. Some of it was confusing- charts and acronyms, costs and success rates- but some of it felt surprisingly grounding. Like planning a life, piece by piece.

But there were quieter, sweeter moments too. Abby's hand resting on my thigh as we read. Me gently brushing Abby’s hair behind her ear. The soft wonder in our eyes when we talked about what a child might be like.

We didn't make any decisions right away. It wasn't that kind of conversation. It was just the beginning of a path being cleared- slowly, thoughtfully. Something we could return to again and again, shaping it over time.

Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, I stood by the sink, brushing my teeth. Abby came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.

"You'd be a really good mom," Abby said softly, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

My eyes flicked to her reflection, surprised at first — then softening into something deep, something fond. I turned slightly to rest my forehead against Abby's. "You too."

Abby smiled, that shy, earnest one I loved. "Guess we'll figure it out together."

"Yeah," I whispered. "We will."

── .✦·········────── .✦·········────

pt2 is now here :)

"How can you like Abby after-"

After???? After what??? How can I like her?!?Like ain't even the right word.

I'd commit the most heinous crimes that they'd have to write a new chapter in the bible for my gay ass specifically just to have my pussy on her face and vice versa before cooking her a warm soup and running her a bath, don't get me fucking started lil guy. If there's one video game character I don't play around for and would defend with every fibre of my body, it's her.

That's my woman right there.

This is for those who claim Abby couldn't achieve such muscle definition without steroids. Have you actually played the game? The WLF stadium features a large gym equipped with a variety of training equipment, along with ample access to protein. It's absolutely possible for her to attain that level of fitness! 💪🏻

I’ll be posting more photo modes soon!

manny setting you and abby up on a blind date, even though you’re “just friends” 𓂃⊹ ࣪ ˖

──────

“You owe me,” Manny said, tossing a towel at Abby as she finished a set.

“For what?” She chuckled, catching it midair. She was trying to drown him out and finish her workout, but he was making it damn near impossible.

“That patrol I covered for you last week? Come on. One drink. One dinner. I set you up with someone cool. Trust me.” Manny grinned, leaning up against the barbell rack.

“I hate when you say that,” she muttered, wiping her face, rolling her eyes as she glared back up at him.

Manny clutched a hand over his heart. “She’s smart, funny, not annoying. You’ll actually like her.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He held up his hands. “Just… be at the mess hall tonight. Eighteen hundred. I promise you’ll be glad you went.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s gonna suck. I don’t wanna waste my time.”

“Come on, hermana. If it’s awful, I owe you a week of patrol coverage.” Manny replied, unfazed as he reached out to shake Abby’s shoulders.

Abby sighed, pressing the towel against the back of her neck, trying not to smile. “Manny. You say that like your word means anything. If it’s awful, I’ll lock you in the supply closet myself.”

“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, finally walking away and leaving Abby to finish her routine.

── .✦

I sat on the edge of my bed, unlacing my boots, when a knock hit the door. I opened it to find Manny already leaning on the doorframe with a ridiculous grin.

“No,” I said immediately.

“Oh yes. You’re going out tonight.”

I squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘out’?”

“Blind date,” he said. “Before you say no—they’re solid. Bit serious, but big heart. Strong as hell.” He shrugged. “I figured that’d be your type.”

I hesitated, wary. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. Just dinner in the mess at eighteen hundred. You need to get out more.” He smiled, poking me in the ribs.

“Is this some kind of prank or something…?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

“Do I look like a man who plays pranks?”

“Yes, actually you do. Because you are.” I respond smugly, pushing him out of the doorway.

He snorted, turning away. “Just go. Please.”

── .✦

The mess hall space within the stadium had once been a cafeteria, now dressed up with mismatched linens and strings of warm lights that someone (Manny) had hung with care. It wasn’t fancy, but he tried. Like everything else we’d built here.

I sat at the table first, my knee bouncing restlessly with barely contained anxiety. I hadn’t asked for this. Manny had cornered me this morning, and then again during rounds, spun something about “someone thoughtful, serious, into books,” and I’d caved out of equal parts curiosity and peer pressure.

Abby walked in two minutes late, her hair swept back into a quick braid, and a clean shirt on. I did a double take, standing up from the table. She immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw me. We both stood there for a second. Confused. Suspicious.

“…Hey,” I said slowly, stepping closer, a bit cautious.

“Hey,” Abby echoed, her brow furrowing.

“Wait. Are you here for…?” I looked around the room slowly.

“No way.” Abby let out a low laugh, running a hand down her face. “Manny?”

“Yeah. Manny said I had a date.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then both broke out into a fit of soft laughter, something easy and fond settling between us.

“Oh my God,” Abby mumbled under her breath, shaking her head. “That bastard.” We both laughed.

“So we’re each other’s blind date… cool.” I sighed, thinking about heading back to my dorm.

A moment passed between us. Abby rubbed the back of her neck. “You wanna just stay? Make it dinner anyway?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “We’re already here. Might as well enjoy it.”

We found a quieter table near the back, away from the louder patrol squads trading stories and jabbing each other over canned chili. The mess hall wasn’t exactly candlelit, but under the dim overheads and faded posters on the wall, the space felt a little more intimate than usual.

“Guess we’re already past the awkward first impressions.” I muttered, gesturing to the chair across from me.

“Guess so,” Abby said, sitting down. “He’s a real piece of work.”

I smiled, a little soft, a little teasing. “I would’ve said yes if you asked me yourself, y’know.”

Abby’s ears turned a little pink. “Maybe I will next time.”

“Next time…” I mumbled to myself, fingers wrapped around my mug. “So, this isn’t a date.”

“Definitely not,” Abby agreed, a little too quickly.

“Just… two friends being tricked by a mutual idiot.”

“Exactly.”

We both smiled, but something hung in the air. Quieter than laughter, a little heavier than coincidence.

“Well, if this was a date, it wouldn’t be the worst.” I said softly.

Abby looked up. “Yeah?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

Abby grinned. “Then maybe I’ll pay next time. Stadium rations and all.”

Dinner was simple. Lentils, rehydrated steak, and overcooked carrots. Whatever passed as a meal these days. Abby glanced down at her plate. “Luxury...”

“Don’t be a snob,” I teased, poking at my own food with a fork. “It’s got… protein?” I shrug.

“And seasoning that tastes like the floor.” Abby mumbled, her lips tightening.

I laughed softly, and Abby looked up at the sound, catching the way my eyes crinkled slightly when I smiled. The awkwardness melted fast. We already knew each other’s tells, each other’s quiet humor. We ate while talking about patrol rotations, about the book I had picked up from the trading post, about how one of the younger recruits had nearly shot their own foot.

“You clean up nice, by the way,” I added, trying to be casual but sincere.

Abby glanced down at her plain black t-shirt and jeans. “This is… me trying.”

“It works.” I answered warmly, taking a bite of my carrots.

Abby watched me for a second longer than she meant to. “You don’t look too terrible either.”

I raised a brow, amused. “Wow, what a charmer.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t usually do the whole date thing.” She responded, her voice going a bit quiet.

“Neither do I,” I said, voice softer now, a bit more honest. “But this doesn’t feel… weird. Not with you.”

Abby was quiet for a minute, her jaw working like she was chewing on a thought. “Yeah. I was kind of relieved when I saw it was you.”

“Same,” I responded, leaning forward and nudging her boot lightly under the table. “Way better than some sweaty patrol guy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Abby huffed a laugh, finally relaxing into the conversation. “He played us. Got you to go, got me to go, and left us here like it’s some romcom setup.”

“Joke’s on him,” I said, softly. “You’re not bad company.”

There was a brief pause, not awkward, but full. Warm. I tilted my head slightly. “Have you ever… thought about it?”

Abby blinked. “Thought about what?”

“Me and you,” I mumbled softly, picking at my food. “Not seriously or anything, of course. It’s silly.”

Abby’s throat bobbed with a quiet swallow. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

I looked down at my plate, smiling into it. Neither of us said anything for a long moment, just the clatter of trays and distant conversation around us filling the space.

Then I said, teasing again, “If I’d known it was you, I might’ve actually brushed my hair.”

Abby gave me a playful glance. “That’s how it always looks.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing again.

Abby grinned. “You look nice. Always do.”

My cheeks flushed at her compliment, and I tried to hide my smile behind my fork.

The “date” label faded, until it didn’t. The air shifted after the shared cookie we agreed to split “because it’d be a waste.” Abby handed me the bigger half without thinking. I paused, looking at the cookie, then at Abby. “You didn’t even fight me on it.”

Abby shrugged. “You like the soft center.”

There was a moment of silence. My brows softened just slightly. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot about you,” Abby said, quiet now, then took a sip from her tea as if to cover it.

I looked down at the cookie, then broke off a piece and passed it to Abby. “Split the soft center, then.”

Our fingers brushed. Abby’s jaw flexed slightly, a muscle twitching.

“This still isn’t a date,” I murmured, my eyes flickering up to hers.

“Nope,” Abby said, eyes on her hand.

── .✦

We slipped out of the mess hall and into the open walkway, the stadium quiet in the way it only ever was after curfew, when most had gone to their bunks and the air was left to echo through the old corridors. The moonlight slanted through the upper windows, casting soft pools of light that guided our way. Abby walked a little slower than usual. The air between us felt different. The denial a little thinner. Glances a little longer.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” I said, hands in my pockets, voice gentle.

Abby shrugged one shoulder. “Figured I should, since I’m such a great date and all.”

I smiled faintly. “Oh, so it was a date?”

Abby smirked but didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

We reached the hallway that led to my room. I paused outside my door, looking up at Abby. Her gaze softened a little in the low light. “I had a good time,” I said quietly.

Abby nodded. “Me too.”

For a second, it felt like neither of us knew whether to linger or say goodnight. My hand hovered over the door handle, but I didn’t turn it yet. Abby glanced down, eyes flicking briefly to my lips, then back up.

I gave a soft, teasing smile. “Goodnight, Abby.”

Abby’s voice was lower than usual when she replied. “’Night.”

But she didn’t go right away. She leaned in, barely brushing her shoulder against mine.

“Meet me in the greenhouse tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

I nodded, just once, eyes soft. Abby’s smile returned, quiet and sure. I slipped into my room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Abby stood there for a few seconds longer than she meant to, hand curling and uncurling at her side. Then she turned and walked away.

Inside my room, I leaned against the back of the door and let out a slow breath. My heart was still thudding. Not hard, just steady, like it was trying to tell me something. I crossed the room to my bed and sat on the edge, absently untying my boots. The bracelet on my wrist— a rough one I’d braided weeks ago, caught the light. I tugged it off and held it loosely in my hands, thinking.

Outside, Abby’s boots echoed softly as she walked. She wasn’t headed straight to her room, not yet. She took a detour, climbing the narrow stairs that led to the rooftop, where the wind hit harder, cleaner. She braced her forearms on the railing and looked out over the dim lights below.

She thought about the way you had smiled tonight, less guarded, more present. She thought about the warmth of your laugh, the way their boots had bumped under the table and neither of them had pulled away. She thought about what you had asked — if she’d ever thought about them. Abby stared out into the dark, muttering to herself. “More than once.”

── .✦

The greenhouse was tucked away on the far end of the stadium, lit by golden strips of late afternoon sun through weathered glass. The scent of damp earth lingered, the soft buzz of insects in the corners barely noticeable over the creak of the old door as I stepped inside.

Abby was already there, crouched near a planter box, inspecting a cluster of overgrown tomatoes. She looked up when I entered, face unreadable at first, then softening in that way I had started to recognize as being just for me.

“You found it,” Abby said, straightening.

I smiled and closed the door behind me. “You’re not as hard to find as you think you are.”

Abby gave a small chuckle and leaned back against the wooden frame of the planter, arms folded. I came to stand beside her, letting the silence settle for a moment. Out here, away from everything, it was easier to breathe. “Didn’t know you liked plants,” I said.

“Yeah, my dad used to have a greenhouse,” Abby replied, glancing at me. “It’s quiet. No one comes out here much.”

I nodded. “Except when they want to disappear.” We stood there for a minute. Then another. And when Abby tilted her head to look at me, something shifted.

“About last night…” Abby started, voice a little rough around the edges.

I shook my head gently. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, I…” Abby paused. “I liked it. More than I thought I would.”

My heart thudded, hard. I took a step closer, close enough that our arms brushed. “You mean the steak or the part where we almost had a date?”

Abby exhaled a laugh through her nose. “Both.”

We turned to face each other more fully now, my gaze lingering on Abby’s mouth, then flicking up to meet her eyes. “I think,” I said slowly, “we might be bad at pretending we’re just friends.”

Abby’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I think you might be right.”

Neither of us moved, but the air between us felt electric. Then, carefully, almost like testing gravity, I reached out and laced my pinky through Abby’s. Not a full handhold. Just a small touch. Abby looked down at our joined fingers, then back at me, and gave a single, subtle nod.

“Okay,” Abby said, her voice softer than I had ever heard it.

“Okay,” I echoed, my thumb brushing lightly over the back of Abby’s hand.

── .✦

We left the greenhouse as the sun dipped behind the far edge of the stadium, casting long shadows and staining the clouds with streaks of orange and violet. The walk back wasn’t long, but we stretched it out without saying so. Steps slow, close, unhurried.

“You’re quiet,” I said eventually, my tone light, coaxing.

“I’m just… thinking,” Abby replied. “Trying not to mess this up.”

I looked over at her. “There’s nothing to mess up yet.”

Abby glanced back, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Yet?”

I grinned. “I mean, unless you’re planning on vanishing into the barracks and avoiding me all week.”

“No,” Abby said quickly, too quickly. She scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not. I liked being with you today.”

My expression softened. “Me too.”

We reached the hallway that split off toward the living quarters, quiet except for the hum of generators and the occasional far off clang. Abby slowed near my door, lingering as if uncertain whether to say goodnight or something else.

I leaned against the wall beside it, looking up at her. “You’re really not gonna kiss me yet?”

Abby blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… didn’t want to rush you.”

“That’s considerate,” I said, voice low and playful. “But next time, don’t overthink it so hard.”

Abby stepped a little closer, close enough that I could smell the faintest trace of pine soap and sweat on her collar. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Next time?”

I reached out and brushed a speck of dirt off her sleeve. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a second, it looked like Abby might lean in. Her gaze lingered, jaw tightening just slightly. But instead, she gave a quiet breath of a laugh and pulled back, eyes warm. “Goodnight.”

I smiled, pushing the door open behind me. “Goodnight, Abby.”

The door clicked softly shut, and I stood still for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.

The quiet hum of the hallway just outside my door buzzed in my ears, my pulse louder than it should’ve been. I stared at the handle, lips parted, heart thudding.

To hell with it.

I yanked the door back open and jogged barefoot into the corridor, scanning until I saw Abby’s back, just a few paces down, slow moving, like maybe she wasn’t quite ready to leave either.

“Abby,” I called softly.

She turned.

She didn’t have time to say anything before I was in front of her, reaching up, fingers curling into the collar of her jacket, eyes searching hers for half a second. Just enough time for hesitation to flicker. Then none at all. I leaned up and kissed her.

It wasn’t polished, but it was warm and certain. The kind of kiss that carried the quiet weight of something that had been building for a long time. Abby froze just for a second, startled, then softened beneath it. Her hands hovered at my waist, then settled there, careful, steady.

We didn’t pull apart quickly. It was slow, a soft press, a breath, then another. I stayed close enough that my forehead nearly rested against Abby’s. “I didn’t want to overthink it either,” I murmured.

Abby looked at me like the world had shifted a little. Like maybe everything would taste different tomorrow. “You didn’t,” she said quietly. “You got it just right.”

I smiled, slow and sheepish. “So… goodnight again?”

Abby nodded, brushing a loose curl from my cheek. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

This time, I didn’t turn away immediately. I lingered a second more, memorizing the feel of Abby’s hands still warm on my waist, before slipping back toward my door.

And this time, Abby didn’t take another step until she heard the door shut again.

this is not my typical post so if you don’t wanna hear complaints just scroll please. these are just my initial thoughts of tlou s2 ep2.

tlou hbo is a fucking mess. neil and craig have lost the fucking plot.

the mischaracterization of abby is insane.

-abby going on a fucking rehearsed monologue is so out of character. abby is a woman of few words. holy fucking exposition dump. what happened to show not tell?

-having abby call joel handsome AGAIN, to his face this time. what does that fucking have to do with anything? she would not be saying that about the man who killed her father and dozens of other people she cared about. let alone stroke his cheek??

-making show abby seem like more of a smug, sadistic villain when in the game we see her being conflicted during the act, realizing hurting joel isn’t satisfying her like she thought it would.

-saying abby’s body doesn’t matter in the show and then making the actress who’s half the size of abby be even stronger than abby is in the game? beating joel to death with her bare hands and breaking golf clubs in half. there’s zero reason they couldn’t give us buff female representation if they were gonna make her do that in the show. it’s actually ridiclous.

-telling mel if she doesn’t knock dina out she’ll “smash her in the fucking head” is not something abby would have said, she’s not mean just for the sake of it. her focus was on joel, not tommy or ellie being there whatsoever. she didn’t give a fuck about them and never ordered her friends to do anything. they handled it in the background themselves.

-no ellie and dina weed den scene???

-no abby waking up and taking a walk with owen scene, are mel and owen even together in the show? is she even pregnant? who fucking knows

-manny kicking ellie??

-oh and then a horde basically destroyed jackson. yay!

"unlikable protagonist" and it's just a woman who's a regular human being with flaws

abby’s such a soft nerd dude the fact that she fell asleep in a library out of roommate courtesy just so that manny could have the room, the fact she’s read city of thieves, count of mont cristo, heart of darkness and plenty of other fictional lit and quote said “all these books…focus Abby” when you clear out Martyr’s gate at the comic shop the fact that she has a hi fi in her room with what appears to be classical music CDs and her weird quirk of collecting coins

I love this giant nerd

Your humpday reminder: Abby could bench press Joel and still have room for more plates.

This woman could drag this snowmobile back to camp if she wanted. Strap some skids to her boots and she becomes the damn snowmobile.

But Abby Anderson would never, ever physically abuse you in an intimate relationship, and frankly, seeing so many fics like that makes my stomach churn. It's one of the reasons I don't scroll the works on here anymore. It's genuinely heartbreaking and triggering, as a survivor of domestic abuse.

Abby sees a painting of dogs playing cards and her neurons ignite like a Molotov cocktail.

If she had a catch phrase, it would literally be, "Will stop for shiny coins."

She'd be the only character in TLOU to leave you love notes in a bottle, floating in the bathroom sink that say adorably corny stuff like, I'm in the gym. Come kiss me at once.

Just because she's powerfully built, doesn't mean she wouldn't be gentle with you.

And I'm not saying that she can't be written into consensual kink play. I'm not talking about silly hyperbole. But I am saying it's not healthy to want Abby to harm you physically and emotionally, and to assume just because she's strong, she would.

You deserve safe love, sweet gays. Please remember that.

I want Abby Anderson to give me the hardest most deep and intimate back shots I'll ever have then I want her to cuddle me afterwards