#cw abortion

[zorosdimples]

telling a man to nut inside but he pulls out anyway because “abortions are expensive”

[animeomegas]

How would Shikamaru and his alpha react to finding out he’s pregnant again? Like they planned on one or two and already have three and now pregnant with a fourth because their birth control keeps failing. Especially if people think Shikamaru is doing it on purpose because of his obsession.

I have a feeling that this isn't what you had in mind lol, but here we are XD

cw: abortion

"It's positive?" you asked as Shikamaru came out of the bathroom, looking exhausted.

"Yep," he said, collapsing down on the sofa next to you with his eyes closed. You heard the muffled sounds of some sort of children's toy activating as he sat on it, but you both ignored it.

"Again?"

"Yep."

"Damn," you let out a breath and sank back into the couch until you were fully reclining just like your mate.

You both sat in silence for a while as the information sank in. You already had three children, an eight-year-old daughter, and two sons, five and three respectively. Your eldest was the only one you had planned.

"What are we going to do?" you asked finally. "We can afford it money wise, but we're spread thin as it is, another baby would-"

"Stop talking," Shikamaru said firmly, stopping you in your tracks. He opened his eyes and heaved himself upright. "If you speak about it out loud, my obsession instinct might...it might..."

"It might trigger and get weird like last time," you finished in sudden realisation, remembering the way Shikamaru had switched over night from booking an abortion to being distraught at the thought and refusing to follow through. "It hasn't triggered yet?"

"No," Shikamaru said calmly. "So, I'm going to fetch a clan medic right now, just for a 'routine health check', of course. Nothing else."

He was planning to trick himself into denial long enough to have an abortion. You shouldn't be so surprised by how intelligent your mate was after all these years, but you still found yourself impressed by his quick thinking.

"Right," you agreed. "Do you need me to come with?"

"No, it's just a routine health check, there's no need," he said, calmly getting up from the sofa and walking to the door. You followed him out and watched him slip on his shoes.

Everything was moving quickly, but you felt like the quickly forming burden had just been lifted from your shoulders. You simply didn't have the time and energy to give to another pup, it wouldn't be fair on anyone.

"And after my health check," Shikamaru continued, opening the door. "I am booking an appointment to have all my problematic organs removed."

That made a lot of sense. You had already been sterilised once but the surgery had reversed itself, something you only realised when Shikamaru already had the positive test in his hand. If he simply didn't have the necessary requirements for a baby, there would be no more babies. And maybe, just maybe, you'd finally have a form of birth control that actually worked.

"I'll watch the pups, and I'll be here when you get back," you promised, trying to reassure him as best as you could without mentioning anything specific.

Shikamaru nodded, took one final deep breath, and then stepped outside, shutting the door gently to avoid waking the two youngest pups up from their naps.

You stood for a moment, processing everything that had just happened, before a wave of determination washed over you. Your mate was going through something difficult that he had to do alone, so you would do everything in your power to make sure he came home to a clean house, delicious dinner, hot bath, and a massage.

You rolled up your sleeves, energised and ready to make the most of the remaining 20 minutes of nap time. It was time to clean like you'd never cleaned before.

[bunnyreaper]

johnny is a good catholic boy, but a really shitty boyfriend. 

(18+/mdni, f!reader, noncon/dubcon, impregnation, abortion, toxic behaviour, blasphemy... probably)

johnny was quite the manipulative little shit, really. he only decided to mention once you were getting hot and heavy just how catholic he was, how condoms were against god's plan and how they were unnatural. (besides, don't you want it to feel the best for him? don't you want to feel him with nothing between the two of you?)

of course anyone else can see he's fucking lying, but the sparkling look in his eyes has you convinced, and surely johnny would never lie or manipulate you like that, right?

he promised he would pull out before he came, promised he wouldn't get you pregnant just yet because he knows how much you don't want kids. definitely not now, maybe not ever. but your warm depths were just too tempting, breeding you was just so natural, you couldn't even fight him off as he pinned you down with his hard cock and filled you full of rope after rope of cum and groaned praises to you through the whole thing.

and then you found out you were pregnant, and johnny had to do everything in his power to conceal how fucking happy he was at this outcome. his girl, growing his child.

everything about it made him just want to pin you down and fill you again, after all you had nothing to lose now, it was all too late.

when you start to withdraw from him, he blames it on the pregnancy hormones, but then he realises the truth one day when scrolling through your search history. he expects to find you research cribs or baby names, but instead finds a medical website all about termination--you want rid of the baby, his baby.

he finds you in front of the mirror, looking at your growing stomach with misery in your eyes as plain as day. he doesn't see why you're so miserable when you'd be better off at home with your babies instead of out on the field with him. he kisses your shoulder, wraps his arm around your stomach and looks you deep in the eye--pinning you with a knowing gaze. all you see within is the situation he's trapped you in.

keep the pregnancy he forced upon you, or live with the fact that in his eyes, you'll always be the girlfriend that murdered his baby.

[darth-sonny]

[tags originally by @sonic-the-hedgehog-lovesyou]

i spent way too much time on this

[fellshish]

So I somehow found myself at Catholic Mass this Christmas eve because of family connections. I'm an atheist but I like the carols so I figured why not. And it was generally benign until I found an anti abortion pamphlet in the little church pew thing and then I was filled with rage, which made me more mad cause I don't want to have rage on Xmas, I want to have peace and love. BUT THEN I remembered I could just imagine Azircrow having sex on the platform behind the priest and I felt a lot better. So thank you, Fells for saving Christmas 🙏

Omg… the loophole saved christmas… thank you for this ask and fuck the anti abortion lobby

[littlemoondarling]

A critical review of a Wendigoon video, pls read it all if you're interested and pls be civil♡♡

Uhm so we all know wendigoon right? Beloved horror youtuber, for good reasons too, his videos have such a comforting vibe that I rewatch them whenever I'm feeling depressed, but recently I got to thinking about a couple of things and they are making me.... slightly uncomfortable with his videos.

The first and biggest thing comes from this video which is about the game "Faith: the Unholy Trinity" which is a game about demons, possession, baby sacrifice, exorcism, etc. All told from a very Christian pov (as most media tends to be) which is no problem, the problems start when we delve a little deeper into the uncomfortable implications about the main possessed girl Amy and her story.

Tldr, she started volunteering at a what is clearly supposed to be an abortion or neonatal care clinic where a demonic cult uses it as a front to sacrifice babies for the evil causes... which idk if you can start picking up on the very concerning implications of that.

Now Wendigoon spoke with the creator of the game who explained that the (what I will call) corruption route that the mc goes through is to make it clear that someone doesn't just get possessed by demons, that they have to go out of their way to get to that point.

And we know that Amy was a good girl before she volunteered in the abortion clinic, which when u visit it (starts in the video at about 2 hours 12 mins) it is made clear immediately that it is not... great.

You first see a letter from the owner who tells the who I assume is the secretary to notify him before returning any calls from the health department because they don't want another "surprise inspection" (the owner is revealed to be a demon and a cult leader btw :))

When you walk further into the clinic, you are met with a disturbing and grotesque demon (which is usual for a horror game but please try to see how the underlying message is clear) where a cop (who is 100% a good guy and hasn't been indoctrinated into the cult) helps you int defeating it. There are also stretchers covered in the blood of the sacrificed corpses under them. It is also made clear that they are injecting the women who seek treatment there with a substance to make them hallucinate and so they don't wake up during the "procedure".

And if you want to get a secret ending, you have to go back and fight a demonic lady who unleashes demonic babies at you who look a whole lot like fetuses but that is just my opinion.

The whole game revolves around a demon cult leader who made an abortion clinic to use the 'babies' as sacrifices and to experiment on the women. If that isn't the most right-wing reactionary Christian pro-life talking points, idk what is.

The issue is that Wendigoon doesn't address the blatant demonising of neonatal care/abortion clinics and the disgusting pro-life implications that are baked deep into the game's DNA, he just keeps praising it and it's creator without batting an eye at any of this. And the comments don't even acknowledge it!

This isn't to cancel wendigoon or anything, I've just been thinking about this specific video for a while and I want to get my thoughts somewhere bc I personally didn't see much talk ab this.

[the-badger-mole]

How Things Fall Apart

Zuko liked to believe that Mai had loved him once. At least, she had once loved a version of him. When he failed to live up to that image she'd built up in his head, all pretext of affection faded in short order.

It wasn't all Mai's fault, Zuko conceded. He had learned to ask her what exactly she wanted as gifts, but he still managed to disappoint. One year, he hadn't been able to afford to replace the diamond bracelet she'd lost during a vacation to Ember Island, so he'd gotten her what he thought was a lovely bracelet with a cheaper alternative stone (the Fire Nation was weathering an inflation crisis, and Zuko thought it would be gauche to spend so much money on the high quality gems imported from the Earth Kingdom instead of increasing the palace staff's salary). Another year, when the country was in a better place financially, Zuko splurged on a new set of throwing knives crafted by the finest blacksmiths under Master Piando's direction. Mai hadn't wanted more steel blades. She wanted the black blades crafted from the meteorite the Southern Tribe's prince had gifted Piando (Zuko's correction about Sokka not being a prince went unheard). It didn't matter that Piando had already made plans on how to use that stone, Zuko was the Fire Lord, and that should mean something. Zuko could do nothing right by Mai. She had still not forgiven him for getting rid of the stately palanquins.

After the birth of their first, and as it would turn out, only child, Mai became more distant. It was an improvement, Zuko told himself philosophically, over shouting matches and heavy objects being thrown at him (Mai never threw a blade at him, and she always made sure whatever she threw hit the wall and not Zuko. He was, after all, the Fire Lord). As long as Mai had access to the royal coffers, relative peace was kept. Zuko was certain that she had at least one lover, but he was content to ignore it, as long as Mai kept up a reasonable amount of discretion. Instability in the Fire Nation's royal family could have far reaching consequences, after all.

Iroh, ever the optimistic presence in Zuko's life, told his nephew about an art practiced in certain parts of the Fire Nation called kintsugi. Instead of throwing away broken things, the artists would carefully gather the broken parts and using a mixture of gold dust and lacquer, piece the broken things back together. The finished products often looked more beautiful than the original. Zuko thought he understood. Finally, fifteen years after he ascended the throne, eleven years after becoming a husband, and seven years after becoming a father, Zuko and the Fire Nation found a sense of equilibrium. The Fire Nation's economy had begun to right itself; a new curriculum designed to fight the decades of propaganda had been approved and implemented; feasible reparation agreements had been reached with the countries most damaged by the war and colonialism. Zuko and Mai only spoke when necessary for public appearances and state functions, and Izumi was growing into a precocious, inquisitive and imaginative child, to say nothing of her firebending prowess. If Zuko's daughter felt the absence of her mother, she hid it very well. Then one day, the peaceful existence Zuko had carved for himself and his child was shattered.

Mai's death was sudden and jarring. Zuko hadn't known anything was wrong until late that night, when a servant, disheveled and out of breath from sprinting to Zuko's chambers from hers, told him that a physician had been called for the Fire Lady, but the outlook was grim.

Officially, Mai had died after suffering from a hemorrhage caused by the miscarriage of her second child. While a few errant rumors floated around for a few months afterwards, the truth (that the child Mai was carrying wasn't Zuko's, and the miscarriage was intentional) was known to only a handful of Zuko's most trusted friends and family. Zuko grieved, though perhaps not as might be expected of a widower suddenly left alone to raise a child. He mourned what might have been if they hadn't married; mourned the family life he would never be able to give his daughter; mourned the lack of a partner who would stand at his side and help him move the country towards a more progressive, inclusive future. Most of all, he mourned the death of his hope of having anything better for himself.

Zuko didn't wallow, though. As little hope as he had left for his own prospects, he wanted Izumi to retain her own bright outlook for the future. He would have some help there with the expected arrival of Katara and her two children. It would be good, Zuko thought, for his daughter to have friends her age. As it would turn out, it was good for Zuko to have a friend around, too. When she stepped off the boat, clothed in a gauzy gold fabric gifted to her by the queen of Omashu, Zuko felt the weight in his heart lighten for the first time in years.

Follow up to Severing the Tie

Next, How Do You Mend?

[achillestiel]

The French keep on winning

[pronoun-note]

Light definitely entered his heat cycle at least one during yotsuba arc. like imagine he’s fertile and slick and L is trying to stay professional but oh, he is also a selfish bastard alpha and wants to breed Light.. but Light’s father does not approve and he has to get an mpreg abortion……. rip unborn lawlight child.

[diatomaceous-worth]

If Alfred had known that the doctor that would be performing his abortion would have been this hot, he would have tried way harder.

from Five times Alfred got an abortion and one time he almost didn't but still did

[zorosdimples]

i’m pro-choice; if that pisses you off you aren’t welcome on my blog <3

[animeomegas]

Just imagine, the Shikamaru who had three cubs getting back home from his appointment(or the surgery you choice) to find it speckles, children napping in their rooms soundly. His alpha fallen asleep on the kitchen table in front of two steaming plates of his favourite food(children ate earlier so Shikamaru and alpha could get themselves a bit alone time)

Referring to this post.

Shikamaru would feel so grateful and loved in this situation. He knows that it wasn't possible for his alpha to accompany him to his abortion/surgery, but they clearly worked as hard as they could to help from afar. That means a lot to him.

He'll go straight over to wake them up, enjoy the food together, and then he's going to lay down while alpha deals with the pups for the rest of the day.

It would be one of those moments where he knows that his obsession instinct picked the right person <3

[transexualpirate]

this is very interesting actually. i do believe in letting people do whatever they want. but more than that, why would anyone think those two things are mutually exclusive?

"let people do whatever they want" and "pregnancy can be a horribly traumatizing experience that no one should have to go through against their will" can and should coexist. especially because i think that an abortion shouldn't exclusively happen on the basis that it'd be bad for the person. i also wholeheartedly believe that even if a person is physically financially and emotionally able to have a baby, if they're simply not interested in having that baby, they can and should abort freely.

does that mean that i don't empathize or advocate for the rights of whoever is getting that abortion? i don't think so. the fact is, i don't think the reason why someone wants an abortion matters all that much. because one of my fundamental beliefs is in radical bodily autonomy. as long as you're not harming anyone do whatever you want forever. so yeah. shrug. let people do whatever they want i guess.

and no, i don't really get how you can be against abortion and simultaneously against someone getting, for instance, top surgery. why are you cherry picking bodily autonomy? this isn't to say that you can literally do whatever you want all the time (some reading comprehension, please!). of course there are boundaries. examples: you can get any tattoo you want, unless it's a hate symbol, and in that case, it's actively harming people, so you can't. you can do whatever you want with your hair, unless you're white and want to get dreads. in that case, you'd be appropriating something that isn't from your culture and it'd be actively harming people (and also, it'd probably ruin your hair but that's not the reason why). but as long as you're not hurting anyone, you can do whatever you want forever, in my opinion, and the reasons why you're doing it aren't that groundbreakingly important safe a few obvious examples. i don't care what the reasons behind you getting an abortion are, ill fight for your right to get it regardless. i also i don't care what the reasons behind you getting "gender reassignment surgery" are, or you getting a piercing, or an ugly tattoo, or a boob job. of course im allowed to personally think they're stupid, or influenced by things that i fundamentally disagree with, or i think your reasons are just shitty and personally believe you shouldn't get it. but ill still fight for your right to be able to get it anyways. it's your body. you're the one that has to live in it, not me. and i support radical bodily autonomy.

and lastly i think the tags are just objectively stupid. im south american and most of the people i surround myself with have the same belief. ive never even set foot outside of my country. i can promise you the anglos didn't invent bodily autonomy. and of course we believe in boundaries. and "culturally allergic" is kind of an odd expression. weird take, but whatever.

as always this is just my personal opinion and im open to discussion.

EDIT: i realized i forgot to crop out the url, so i edited the post. please reblog this version without the urls and don't send that person hate. this is what they want and it will be used against us after.

[darth-sonny]

What did everyone think when Leo wanted to keep Kirby? Cuz I doubt it's one that everyone else made instead. And did Kirby's birth stagnate his emotional recovery, or had it not been long enough for the healing to truly even begin yet?

well, it was... a surprising decision, to say the least

like, all of them legit thought Leo was going to go the Plan B route. they were all ready to support him if he did, were all waiting for that pin to drop. they know it's a very emotionally stressful and traumatizing decision, and they were all ready to help him work through it

but then Leo said, "I'm keeping it," and now they're trying to work around this unexpected and surprising hurdle

Kirby's birth was both a hindrance and a somewhat big help for Leo's recovery: it was easy to ignore everything when he had a newborn to take care of, he could keep his mind off of everything and just focus on this. but after a couple of weeks, maybe months, it just clicked for Leo what happened. that his hallucinations were real and that everything that he went through actually happened and, and-!....

yeah, he shut himself off after that. cue in Splinter

[ali-r3n]

Together

Eddie Munson x Pregnant!Reader

Eddie is there for his girlfriend when she changes her mind about an abortion

Hurt/Comfort, A little Angst, but mostly Fluff

A/N: No actual abortion is present in this fic, but it is implied that that is what she is going to do. This is mostly about Eddie being the sweetest boyfriend

Eddie stared at the white tile floor and bounced his leg as he sat in the waiting room. His forearms rested on his thighs with his ringed hands clasped together. His stomach felt uneasy at the thought of his beloved girlfriend going through such a procedure. He wished he could be by her side right now. 

“Munson.” 

He looked up with a furrowed brow, confused. He expected it to take longer. How long had he been sitting there? He checked his watch before he stood up. It had only been a few minutes since they took Y/N into the backrooms. 

“Yes? Is she okay?” 

The nurse nodded. “She needs you.” 

Eddie followed her to the back and into the room.

 “Oh Sweetheart.” 

Dressed in a paper gown, Y/N sat doubled over on the exam table. Her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook with sobs. 

He walked towards her, his eyes soft and full of compassion. “Y/N/N?” 

She straightened up and hugged him, burying her tear covered face into his shirt. 

“Shh. You’re okay. I’m here,” he reassured as he cradled the back of her head and rubbed her back. 

“I couldn’t do it, Eddie.” She sniffled. “I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. If you want to raise this baby, we will find a way.” 

She looked up at him with red, swollen eyes. “Really?” she asked, softly. 

He nodded and cupped her face. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” 

“But…how?”

He shrugged. “No idea,” he confessed. “But I know we’ll do it together.” 

A small smile spread on her face. “I love you, Eddie.” 

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes in contentment. 

“I love you too, Sweetheart.” 

“We have to go home and tell Wayne that he is going to be a Grandpa after all,” she stated. She blinked her eyes open. “Do…Do you think he will be mad?”

“Mad? No, absolutely not. May kick my ass first for being irresponsible, but after that he will love it.” 

Y/N giggled. “We should get him the best grandpa ever mug.” 

Eddie groaned. “Don’t enable him, Sweetheart. That man doesn’t need any more mugs.” 

She stared at him with her eyebrow raised. 

Y/N had a large smile on her face as he drove them home. A gift bag with a new mug held in her lap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is not meant to demonize abortions, I have the firm belief that you should be able to choose what you do with your own body.

[bluedalahorse]

So is now the time to post the opening of my unfinished YR abortion road trip fic?

Maybe. Maybe today is the day! This isn’t on AO3 because I haven’t finished it, but @heliza24 really wants me to finish it and would be glad that I posted even this part to fandom.

There’s more written than just this excerpt, so I could always post more if people are curious.

No title yet, because this is untitled.

Summary: Shortly after season 2, Felice wanders off campus to process a high-profile arrest and other recent shakeups at Hillerska. She doesn’t expect to meet Sara Eriksson, who is in the process of running away.

—

Felice’s Phone

Group chat: MANOR HOUSE GIRLZ (Fredrika, Maddie, Stella)

Maddie: yooooo Felice

Maddie: tell us you missed Swedish class for something epic

Stella: we took notes for you

Stella: mine are better than Fredrika’s

Fredrika: LIES mine are better than Stella’s

Maddie: you’re not in your room

Maddie: girl are you even at school?

Fredrika: just tell us where you are and we won’t snitch

Stella: Felice?

Stella: please check in

Stella: and maybe flirt with one of the local boys so he buys you booze

Fredrika: and then share?

Maddie: don’t listen to them

Maddie: only flirt with someone hot

Stella: yeah he’s got to be at least as hot as Fredrika

Stella: lol j/k ahahaha what

Fredrika: heeeyyyyyyy Feliiiiiice where are youuuuu

Fredrika: we’re a little worried, just let us know

Fredrika: tho at least you didn’t get sick and disappear into the bathroom like SOMEONE we could mention

Stella: but we’re not mentioning her

Stella: bc we don’t mention traitors

—

Felice sits at the edge of a convenience store parking lot in Bjärstad, counting all the scars in her nail polish. It’s supposed to be a fresh coat. Stella brushed the ballet slipper pink onto Felice’s nails on Tuesday, and right now it’s only—Thursday afternoon? Felice is drunk on leftover vodka she stashed in her closet behind her Prada handbag, but not so drunk she’s forgotten that it’s Thursday. A Thursday full of literal dark clouds, at that. 

Tuesday was sunny, and it was also the day that police arrived at Hillerska and escorted that guy away. That one, the ex. Wednesday, Felice’s ex-best friend, her real ex in any kind of emotional attachment sense, came back to school for half a day, but couldn’t make it past lunch. Now people are spreading rumors about Sara Eriksson puking in the bathroom. So maybe it’s been a weird enough forty-eight hours that Felice hasn’t noticed herself scarring up her nail polish.

And maybe, now that today is Thursday, Felice needed to skip classes and get drunk and go for a walk off campus, and buy a bag of chips from a nothing convenience store in this nowhere town. There are things getting drunk won’t solve. But it’s not like being sober is going to solve things for Felice right now, either.

Felice’s phone vibrates against her thigh. She pulls it out of the pocket of her sweatpants and notes the texts from Fredrika and Stella and Maddie in her (recently purged) group chat. They’re asking her where she is, and is she coming to dinner. Please check in, fuck. How performatively worried. Felice unlocks her phone and almost fumbles her way through a typo-soaked message before deciding she’ll do this psychically. I am walking back to Hillerska now, she thinks in the general direction of school, slow and deliberate. She leaves the rest up to Maddie’s alleged witch powers and pulls herself to her feet.

Felice’s ankles ache the way they do when she’s walked on her Jimmy Choo heels for too long. She’s not wearing heels, though, only slides. Her legs wobble. Her thoughts swirl in slow, doomed circles, like dirty water circling a drain, as thunder rumbles overhead and a cool breeze rustles nearby trees. The rain is imminent, and Felice contemplates how much worse it will be when she shows back up on campus not only drunk, but drunk and completely soaked through, her carefully styled curls a wreck.

(Stella, Fredrika, and Maddie could get away with a stunt like that. A teacher might ignore their obvious alcohol breath and just tell them to put on dry pajamas and go to bed. But for Felice, they notice everything. Because Felice sticks out to begin with.)

Felice is caught in a vision of the headmistress, hissing the word inebriated on a phone call to parents, when a van pulls into the parking lot. She’s not as up on cars as the Forest Ridge boys, but this van definitely belongs to a Bjärstad local. She braces herself for an awful catcall as the window rolls down halfway, certain she’s about to get leered at by some guy in a permanently affixed football beanie.

Instead, it’s a girl. No football beanie, only football confidence. Felice recognizes the girl from Simon’s instagram—she’s come up a few times. Felice hasn’t been counting, but she’s noticed.

“You’re in choir with Simon,” says the girl. “Felice, right? I’m Rosh. Need a ride back to school?”

“I can walk. I think,” Felice says. And then, so she can own her story, she adds, “I might be a little drunk?”

Felice adjusts her posture, straightening her spine and setting her hand on her hip as she makes eye contact with Rosh. Immediately a sense of embarrassment twinges in her chest at her pose. What the—was she modeling? She’s not making a case for relative sobriety, whatever she’s doing.

Rosh turns to consult with someone next to her, then turns back to Felice.

“Come on,” she says. “Get in the car. Back seat.”

“Um. Thanks.”

The back door of the van slides open. Felice doesn’t have time to question who Rosh has next to her in the passenger seat. She receives an answer soon enough anyway. The back of Sara Eriksson’s head is so familiar—defeated brown waves that haven’t seen a wash day in too long. Sara’s shoulders are hunched over; her neck is bent. She does not turn around.

Two weeks ago, if Felice saw Sara looking like that, she would have pulled Sara close and rubbed her back until they talked through what was wrong.

(Part of her still wants to. But she doesn’t like the idea of Sara mentally comparing her hugs to someone else’s, and she’s allowed to be petty about that.)

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Sara says, tapping away on her phone. She sounds exhausted. “I’m busy anyway.”

“If you hydrate, we won’t ask about the drinking,” says Rosh to Felice. “There’s sports drink behind the passenger seat. Take one.”

Right. Sports drink. Because Rosh does sports, Felice has noticed. It sounds like an order more than an offer. Felice ducks down and liberates one of the bottles from its six-pack. The liquid inside is neon-bright and tastes of soft metal and fake citrus. Rain splatters on the van’s windows—the first sparse and irregular drops, followed by the entire pounding ensemble of water. For the next few minutes, Felice focuses on the horizon, where blurred trees meet the mirror-gray sky, and sips her post-football-run drink. Sara takes care of the directions to her old dorm, uttering an occasional “right” or “left” or “go straight here” to Rosh. Felice can’t tell why she’s doing it. Why she didn’t just insist on leaving Felice behind.

Then, the conversation shifts. Or at least, the conversation that Felice isn’t a part of shifts.

“Rosh?” Sara whispers. “I can’t find anywhere cheap enough for us to stay.”

“Even on the apps?” Rosh replies. “Look, I told you, I have some money—”

“I can’t take your money.”

“It’s money I owe Simon anyway.”

“That’s even worse. He already hates me. You should hate me more.” 

Sara breathes in, then out, audibly. She does it a few more times. Felice’s own lungs strain in sympathy.

“We have to find a place for the weekend,” says Sara. “Or we can’t do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Felice finally asks. She presses a hand to her thigh to keep her leg from jiggling. Since she was seven years old and started her first etiquette classes, she’s always been able to sit still. Always.

“We’re going on a weekend trip,” Rosh answers, too brightly. “To Stockholm—”

“—to an island,” Sara says at the same time.

“Stockholm has lots of islands,” Rosh improvises. “Sara just needs to be away for a weekend. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re going on a normal trip,” says Felice, hearing the suspicion in her voice, and how it sounds like her father.

“We told Mamma we were traveling,” says Sara. “My period’s late. I don’t––I don’t think it’s coming. I know it isn’t coming, because—”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“—I did a pregnancy test.”

Felice digs her chipped nails into her knee. She knew how Sara’s sentence was going to end. Not the way she knows people’s names or the answers on a test she studied for, but the way she knows to pull her hand away when she touches a hot stove. Swift and unthinking. She even gasps the same way she does when she’s burned. Not out of surprise but out of pain.

“Fuck, Sara,” says Rosh. “You don’t have to tell her. She could tell the media.”

“Sorry,” says Sara. “It just came out. I’m scared, okay?” At last she turns around and looks toward Felice, her fingers curled around the back of the passenger seat. Her face is red and purple-tinged in all the places that indicate crying and sleepless nights. “Look, you can’t tell anyone. Rosh and I are going to deal with it. We already got the pills. I can’t deal with it at home because of Simon and Mamma. I don’t know what they’d say.”

“We wanted to use my apartment,” Rosh adds. “We thought my mother was going to visit one of my aunties this weekend. But auntie came to visit us instead at the last minute.”

“Please don’t tell anyone at school, Felice.” Sara turns away again. “Or Simon. Don’t tell him either.”

“People are already talking about how you threw up in the bathroom,” says Felice. “And if you’re absent from school again, they’re going to wonder.”

“Please don’t tell,” Sara repeats, voice muffled as she pushes her face into her coat sleeves.

As much as the infusion of electrolytes, courtesy of Rosh, has helped Felice to steady her head, she’s still too drunk for this. Or maybe, again, she isn’t drunk enough. She tries to imagine her math class tomorrow, working trigonometry problems with an empty chair beside her and actually knowing why the chair is empty. She can’t. Felice can’t even imagine faking sick and staying home from class, because then Stella and Fredrika would come visit her with buns and coffee, and then they’d want to gossip.

At first, being able to gossip felt good. But ever since the arrest—since the security from the palace arriving to keep out news cameras—gossip is more like gangrene eating at an already wounded limb. Felice needs amputation, or at least closure. Until then, she’s just going to keep asking herself questions about what part of the catastrophe she made happen. Why didn’t she ask Sara who she had a crush on, like best friends always do? Why hadn’t she been more concerned that Sara was gone all the time and came back late to their room? Why hadn’t she told Sara how bad things got with him last term, to warn her?

Felice doesn’t want to keep asking herself the questions, because this isn’t her fault. Maybe Sara isn’t the only one who needs an emergency abortion. Maybe Felice needs to abort Sara from her life, so she can move on.

But if she’s going to do this, she has to make it her choice.

“My family has a vacation cabin,” Felice says. “We can go there to do what you need to do. But after that, we will never speak to one another ever again. Alright?”

Sara’s shrunk down in her seat so much that Felice can’t see her anymore, but Felice is pretty sure from the rustling of her coat sleeves that she’s nodding.

Five minutes later, Felice is on the phone with her mother, feeding her excuses and exaggerations until she gets the approval to leave school for the weekend. At the same time, Rosh turns the van around and drives away from Hillerska.