She has an obsession with cocks, well, having a cock. Not some pink and glittery faux hardness like she’d seen in a tawdry lesbian porno once, but the hot, pulsating, fleshy kind. It’s stupid, but it’s what she asks for whenever she comes across a wishing pond like the one inside the Greater Lima Shopping Plaza or outside the two-story strip mall ( Read more... )

“Rachel, you have to go to the funeral. It’s your Aunt Mildred.”

“Dad, I can’t possibly rearrange my schedule-“

“You can, and you will.”

“Try telling that to Kale Brookstein!" she says witheringly, bony fingers strangling the receiver, "Why aren’t you two going?”

“Your father and I are in Namibia, sweetheart. The funeral is tomorrow. You’re a smart ( Read more... )

When she sees her it’s like looking at impeccably preserved threading in the very fabric of time, and for a moment Rachel Berry is 15 again and her existence revolves around one summer afternoon and a girl with golden hair, and hazel eyes, and a pale blue dress.

Flashbulbs explode behind her eyelids, and Rachel releases the breath holed up at the ( Read more... )