Intense Lesbian Fanfiction is Autostraddle’s first original fiction, in three parts. It’s also the best thing that’s ever happened. Art by the brilliant Rory Midhani.

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Chapter 5

Jodie was pushing 110 mph on the interstate still covered in an Italian BMT. She didn’t have time to wipe the salami off herself, things were getting too intense. Within an hour she was at St. Louis International Airport dealing with a saucy Hertz attendant; and then, within an hour and half, she was on a flight to Los Angeles. Jodie spent the whole three and a half hour flight sweating in her seat. She knew that at this point, the metaphorical avalanche that was Blaze was picking up speed and would be even harder to stop. Jodie needed to act fast.

When the plane landed Jodie unbuckled her seat belt, grabbed her things, and ran to the front of the plane. A baffled flight attendant accosted her.

“Ma’am, you can’t be up here! You need to get back to your seat right now!”

“JODIE FOSTER.” Jodie shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“JODIE FOSTER.”

“Ma’am, please.”

“JODIE FOSTER.”

This continued until the plane had taxied to the gate and once they opened the plane door, Jodie sprinted out. (Celebrities often repeat their names again and again to get what they want or avoid trouble. In fact, it was where Pokemon creator Satoshi Tajiri got the idea to have pokemon only say their names, after a trip to West Hollywood where Sigourney Weaver ran over his foot on a bike and instead of apologizing shouted “SIGOURNEY WEAVER, SIGOURNEY WEAVER” as she rode away.) Jodie ran through the gate, the terminal, and out of the airport to her car. Jodie was exhausted from all her travelling and just wanted to go home and take her shoes off, but there was no time. She jammed on the gas and was speeding down the 405 until she hit traffic, then she sat for 15 minutes, then she was speeding down the 405 again. Jodie pulled into a modest home in Santa Monica, jumped out of the car, and banged on the front door.

“WANDA! WANDA!” Jodie shouted

“WHAT?” Wanda Sykes shouted back as she opened the door.

“Help me!” Jodie whined, “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t kill her!”

“Jodie, you fucking pussy. What happened.”

“She’s being protected by one of the devil’s henchmen.”

“Which one?”

“His name is Louis.”

“Oh, I only know Richard and Kevin. All really nice. Hard workers; the Devil has really put together a great team. But you couldn’t get to her?”

“No! He tried to kill me! Anyway, I need your help.”

“What? Do you need a napkin?”

“What?”

“Have you looked down recently?”

Jodie looked down and realized she was still covered in sandwich, which meant she had spent nearly five hours being decorated with cured meat. Jodie peeled some ham off her coat and ate it. Wanda looked disgusted; like someone had just used the word gay to describe something that was dumb or stupid. Jodie recognized this, and began again quietly.

“I need to see the prophecy.”

“What? Did you lose your copy?”

“No I never got one.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re lying. How did you not get one?”

“I don’t know! I just didn’t!”

“Bullshit.”

“THIS ISN’T BULLSHIT WANDA!” Jodie snapped, “WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST HELP ME OUT. I TRAVELED NEARLY 2000 MILES AFTER I GOT A GUN PULLED ON ME WHILE I WAS TRYING TO PREVENT THE LESBIAN APOCALYPSE AND I COME HERE AND ASK FOR ONE TINY FAVOR AND YOU’RE TEASING ME?” Jodie looked like she was going to cry. “OH AND THE WHOLE TIME, APPARENTLY, I WAS COVERED IN THREE DIFFERENT DELI-MEATS AND SHREDDED LETTUCE. NOW I GET WHY THE GUY AT BAGGAGE CLAIM ASKED ME IF I HAD JUST ESCAPED FROM A LUNCHBOX. I GET IT NOW. HA HA GUY. GOOD ONE. FUCK.”

Jodie was out of breath. She looked at Wanda sadly with her Jodie Foster cat eyes. Wanda sighed.

“Alright fine. Come inside.”

Jodie followed Wanda inside the house. Wanda led Jodie into a modern styled living room and directed her to sit on a chair. Jodie sat and Wanda walked over to a framed picture of Ellen Degeneres hanging on the wall.

“Why does Ellen demand we all have a framed picture of her in our houses?”

“She really admires other world dictators who feature large pictures of themselves all over their country.”

“Wow, does Ellen really see herself as the dictator of lesbians?”

“I don’t know. But it’s also for this.” Wanda removed the picture of Ellen and revealed a safe behind it.

“Aw that’s so intense! Wait, then why do I have one in my living room if it’s not hiding a safe?”

“Probably because you’ll do anything Ellen says. That’s why she thinks you’re a pussy.”

Jodie thought deeply about this.

“Okay, here.” Wanda said, pulling an envelope out of the safe and handing it to Jodie.

“Why didn’t I get a copy, by the way?”

“I think you were supposed to, but when we got to Kinkos we decided to print them on cardstock and then didn’t have enough for another copy.”

“Are you kidding me? Ellen has so much money! One time she asked me if she should buy Staten Island.”

Wanda shrugged. “I don’t know. That cardstock is nice.”

“Yeah…yeah it is,” Jodie resigned.

“Read it out loud.”

Jodie began in her best narrating voice:

“My dearest prodigy,
I write to you with great trepidation. I have just awoken from a slumber where I had seen the most disturbing images. At first I thought it was my soul having another bandaged moment, but then realized, Ho! Tis a Prophecy. In it, a young girl of the marrying age rose from rural America with great musical talent. She played her songs here – in my beloved home state – where she caused a great stir in the Hearts of all the other young girls of the marrying age. Then, in a cocksure fit, did battle with a pair of Gemini and becometh sapphic women’s most beloved Minstrel. Not a soul could speak to her, for she could burst a being with just a look. Then once she cut her feminine locks, she sucked the power from us all. She crushed institutions with just her Moniker and evangelized successfully to even the most adamant agnostics. As she crossed o’er the land, we slowly withered, til we were dreamt of no more.

She had one weakness; a Secret? A ghost from her past? Because it was a Dream, I cannot remember. And ‘tis verily shitty that I forgot, or this entire Calamity could be stopped.

I cannot say the Hour it will happen, but know that she must be stopped. I am entrusting you, my dearest prodigy, to make sure that no one Lesbia starve you of love. It may be that you all must come together as a final Effort to thwart her. All must heed the call, for it is a matter of survival. Make haste-for if you strike too late, you will be Dammed!
Signed,

Your dearest Emily.”

Jodie looked up at Wanda.

“There’s another page,” Wanda said. “But it was just a bunch of hyphens.”

“Well, what do you think? We need to anticipate here.”

“Hm, we know the haircut is the point of no return. But the first thing she does rise up from ‘rural America’. You said she was in Missouri?”

“Yeah.”

“So that checks out. Then she goes to…” Wanda looked back at the page, “Wherever Dickinson lived. Where was she from?”

“Uhhhh.” Jodie could not remember. “I cannot remember. Let’s google it.”

Wanda pointed Jodie to a laptop that was sitting on the island counter that separated the kitchen and living room. Jodie grabbed it and they both sat on the couch. Wanda opened it, typed in a password, and on the screen was a google images search for “Wanda Sykes”.

“Were you googling yourself?” Jodie asked.

“Mmhmm,” said Wanda, “I’m making a vision board, see.”

Wanda minimized the browser revealing Photoshop. In the workspace was a clearly doctored photograph of Wanda as an astronaut.

“I want to go to space.” Wanda said. Jodie nodded understandingly. Wanda pulled the browser back up and searched ‘Emily Dickinson home’.

“It appears as if she lived in…Amherst, Massachusetts,” Wanda said. Jodie’s eyes widened.

“Oh God,” she whispered. She grabbed the computer and pulled up a map. She pushed her finger against the screen over where the map said ‘Amherst’ and slowly dragged her finger southwest. Wanda squinted to see what she was now pointing at, but when she saw it her eyes widened. The women looked at each other and screamed. Jodie fainted.

“Oh, you little pussy,” Wanda said, and picked up her computer and quietly finished her vision board.

Chapter 6

Louis and Blaze had almost finished recording the EP when Louis had an idea. Louis tapped on the pane of glass that divided him and Blaze and spoke into the microphone that connected them.

“Blaze, do you know any other instruments? It’d be cool to record a sort of special track.”

Blaze thought for a second.

“Actually, my grandfather taught me how to play the accordion. Maybe we could throw, like, a pirate jig on the album.”

Louis stood up from his seat in the mixing room, exited into the hallway that linked the room with the recording booth, walked into the booth, walked up to Blaze, and slapped her across the face.

“A pirate jig? Are you fucking kidding me? For your information we’re trying to record the sexiest, most electrifying EP to ever enter the contemporary zeitgeist NOT RECORD THE FUCKING SOUNDTRACK TO A VEGGIE TALES FILM. That was a Katie suggestion. Give me a Blaze suggestion.”

Blaze’s face hardened.

“What about a track where I play the drums with knives and scream?”

“Less Yoko Ono, more Kanye.”

“Ok well then we’re going to have to rework the album in order to have the audience feel a disillusionment with the alleged post-racial America.”

Louis blinked thrice. Blaze spoke again.

“You know what, let’s do one where I talk about bodies touching or something.”

“Perfect, good. Great.”

Louie went back to the mixing room.

After another hour of recording, the EP was almost ready. Louis spoke into the microphone again.

“Okay Blaze, all we need is some post production tweaking then this baby is ready to go!”

“Cool. Now what do we do?” Blaze asked, as she put down her guitar and took a sip of water.

“I’m thinking we hit the road immediately. You know? Do a quick college tour.”

“Alright. Where do we start?”

“I’m thinking Smith. Have you heard of it?”

Blaze put down her water bottle, stood up from her stool, exited into the hallway, walked into the mixing room, walked up to Louis and slapped him across the face.

“Of course I’ve heard of Smith! Are you fucking kidding me? Every lesbian has heard of Smith. It’s fucking Lesbian Hogwarts. God. They’re all there, with their hair always on point, studying sociology, and the leaves are yellow and filtering sunlight through them because it’s always autumn there because autumn is beautiful and the whole continent has conspired to make that place beautiful and lovely and gay. Gay as fuck. It’s so gay there, even the straight girls are gay. It’s just all beautiful lesbians with nice coats. Do you know, you could be ugly as fuck, but if you have a nice coat no one will even notice? Well it doesn’t even matter, because they’re already beautiful-”

“Stop. Stop. Wait. I have a feeling that if I don’t stop you right now, you’re going to go on for another forty minutes.”

“Probably, yeah…I’ll stop, I’ll stop”

“So do you want to go?”

Blaze slapped Louis again.

---

Massachusetts was looking beautiful, for it was September and that is pretty much the only time New England is ever bearable. The whole ride from the airport Blaze kept her nose pressed against the window, admiring the changing leaves, stone walls, and colonial homes.

“Wow. It’s so beautiful here. And it has such rich history.”

“Yeah, and such rich white people,” Louis said as they turned into a parking lot. “We’re here.”

Blaze stepped out of the car and examined the venue, Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage. Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage was Northampton’s premier music venue. Located just five minutes from Smith College, it always drew a crowd of hip lesbos. Blaze opened the drunk while Louis examined the venue.

“That is some name on that place,” commented Blaze, “Very specific.”

“Yeah, well they don’t want people to get the wrong idea, like they’re not extremely cool or rock and roll or a basement or a garage.”

“I get it. But how can you have a basement garage?”

Louie shrugged.

“Where is Smith by the way? Are we close?” Blazed asked excitedly.

“Yes, it’s right there.” Louie pointed to the buildings peaking over the trees.

“Oh sweet. I see you Smith College,” Blaze laughed. So did all the girls that go to Smith because they see what she did there.

“Alright, let’s go pick out the set list.” Then he helped Blaze unpack the car and both went inside to get set.

A taxi pulled up outside of The Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage. Jodie Foster paid the cabby and stepped onto the curb. As the cab pulled away, Jodie opened her bag and looked in. Inside she saw her lucky 1992 Oscar. She pushed it aside and saw her pistol underneath.

“Alright,” she breathed, “Let’s try again.”

Chapter 7

Blaze and Louis stood backstage watching the opener finish up. It was a sad girl with an acoustic guitar; her most popular song was titled “Winter Sadness Tears”. She was pretty awful, but Blaze and Louis didn’t mind, she drew a crowd. The girl thanked the audience, and came backstage.

“Great set,” Blaze said, “It was very sad.”

“Thanks,” said the girl. Then she began to cry. Louis raised his eyebrows at Blaze. Blaze shrugged.

“All a part of the lesbian lifestyle.”

“Are you guys really feeling that much all the time?”

“Yeah man. It’s exhausting. That’s why lesbians sleep for fourteen hours out of the day”

“You guys are like cats,” Louis said.

“For so many reasons.” Blaze said as she picked up her guitar, “Should I go on now?”

Louis looked around the green room. “Yes, you got everything?”

“I do.”

“Alright, remember to say your name as much as you can. Be Blaze.”

Jodie Foster uncovered her ears once the girl with the acoustic guitar stepped off stage.

“Goddamn, I cannot handle that level of sad.” She turned to a young lady standing next to her, “Was that too sad for you?”

“You thought that was sad?” the girl asked, “I mean, it wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t, like, sad.”

“Are you kidding me? One of the lyrics was ‘this despair will never leave me, unlike my dad.'”

“I’ve heard worse,” the girl shrugged.

“Geez, this generation of lesbians must have some intense emotions.”

“We’re fine as long as we get our fourteen hours.”

Jodie nodded. She examined the audience; it was what she expected for the most part. Lesbians as far as the eye could see, all looking hip, and all looking young. There was one man in the crowd though, he was about six foot seven and making eye contact while smiling at all the girls. Clearly had no idea where he was. The crowd suddenly went quiet. Jodie turned and saw that Blaze had stepped on the stage. Quickly, Jodie reached into her bag and grabbed a pair of swimmer’s ear plugs; she couldn’t risk hearing the music.

“Hey. My name is Blaze. Like, it’s my real name. Not a stage name.”

The crowd murmured about how cool her name was. Blaze continued.

“I’m gonna play some songs off my EP called Cool Kids Only.”

Blaze nodded, and Louis started the backbeats. It didn’t take long for Blaze’s power to begin working. Jodie looked around and watched all the lesbians. It was just as she feared — they were all standing with their eyes wide and their mouths open. Jodie felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned and saw the token man motioning for her to take out her ear plug. Jodie took it out enough so she could hear what the man was saying.

“Why is everyone panting?” he asked. Jodie shrugged and made a ‘fuck if I know’ face. The man nodded.

“My name is Tim. Do you want to get a drink later?” the man said. Jodie shook her head no and made a ‘fuck if I know why you’d ask that’ face. Tim kept nodding.

“Okay cool,” he said. Jodie stuffed the ear plug back into her ear and continued to examine the crowd. The girls all around her were mesmerized. She counted at least six of them visibly drooling. From her purse Jodie drew a mirror. She turned her back to the stage and watched Blaze in the reflection. Jodie knew she didn’t have long to look unless she wanted to join the drooling mass. She was relieved to see that Blaze’s hair was the same as when she first saw her. Jodie scanned Blaze for a potential uncool trait but could see none. If only there were something she could point out to the audience to cool them off; like Pooh Bear phone charms or ugly earrings. But there was nothing.
Jodie covered her face with her hands and began to weep. She needed to kill Blaze tonight. As she stood sobbing, Tim hovered over her watching in extreme confusion.

“What the fuck is going on.”

By the time Blaze finished her set, the entire audience was crying, except for Tim. Blaze stood, looking at the crowd, smiling. She believed that what Louis told her was true, but now she was really seeing it. Blazed leaned into the microphone.

“Alright, that’s it. Thanks so much for coming out. I’m Blaze. Like a Fire. Blaze.” Blazed waved, and walked backstage. Immediately desperate screams rose up behind her. The audience was pleading for an encore. Lighters shot up everywhere; one girl even pulled off her flannel shirt, wrapped it around her fist and lit it on fire, thusly turning her arm into a torch. Jodie, breathing heavily, reached into her bag, ready for the second Blaze stepped back out on stage. Next to her Tim stood with his brow furrowed. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I DON’T GET IT. SHE WASN’T EVEN THAT GOOD,” he shouted over the commotion. Suddenly, every girl in the audience whipped around to look at him. It was the first time any girl had looked at him all night, but unfortunately that look was the intense glare of 150 lusty lesbians.

“What did you say?” asked the girl whose arm-torch has slowed to a smolder.

“She wasn’t that good…” Tim said with absolutely no confidence.

The girls began to scream. They grabbed Tim’s arms and legs and dragged him outside. He tried to fight it, but they were full of womanly rage and could not be stopped. Jodie watched in horror as all 150 girls followed Tim out the door screaming and cussing. Jodie grasped the gun in her purse, standing in the middle of the empty venue.

“Okay,” she said. She turned towards the stage but suddenly bumped into someone.

“Not so fast, Perseus.”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Jodie said as she pushed herself away from Louis.

“I told you Jodie, she cannot be stopped,” Louis said as he grabbed her arm. Outside, the shouts got louder. Louis and Jodie both paused, to listen. They heard someone shout ‘BITE THE CURB.’

“Holy God almighty, are they murdering that guy?”

“Case and point, Jodie. One decent concert, and these lesbians are ready to kill for her. Now, it’s time for you to go.”

Louis reached into Jodie’s purse pushing her hand away from the gun and grasped the pistol’s grip. At the same time, Jodie grabbed her Oscar. Both drew their weapons from the bag at the same time, but before Louis could cock the gun, Jodie whooped him in the head with the Oscar. Louis dropped the gun and fell to the ground. Jodie turned and ran out of the Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage, and shouted behind her, “I’D LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY!”

---

Louis walked into Babe Town Cafe rubbing the throbbing goose egg on his forehead; he had just been released from the hospital for a mild concussion. He had spent the night in the emergency room, which was pretty awful. But Louis was counting his blessings, especially since his hospital roommate was Tim, who had just had his legs surgically reattached, among other procedures, when he was wheeled in. Louis walked up to the counter and ordered a small coffee. Louis grabbed a newspaper, collected his coffee, sat down at a table behind two girls and feigned being interested in the paper. He clandestinely turned his ear towards the girls.

“I’ve just never heard music that good before. And her? She was so intense.”

“I know. She was so amazing I forgot everything I used to know about music. I can’t even remember the name of my favorite band. Because now she is my favorite band.”

“Yeah what was it? Like, Crystal Candles or something.”

“Mine was just two letters. But what letters? The FF? The PP? That’s gross. If it was the PP. Ew other bands are just gross.”

“Did you hear about Courtney?”

“Which Courtney?”

“Courtney, the music editor of the school newspaper? She fell into a coma.”

“What? How!”

“Trying to think of adjectives to describe the concert. All the adjectives in the English language were so inadequate that she lost consciousness.”

“Dang.”

Just then, four pretty Smith girls in, of course, great coats entered the cafe. The girls at the table called over to them.

“Hey! Guys over here!” The four girls walked over and they all greeted each other. Louis continued to listen. One of the seated girls began to speak.

“Hey, so did you go to the show last night?” The girls standing in coats all nodded solemnly. The other seated girl piped up, “What’d you think? You know, being in a band an all?”

The tallest of the standing girls spoke, clearly impassioned. “We’re quitting music. It’s our duty to the world now to help Blaze get to the top.”

“That’s right,” said another standing girl, “from now on we will never make music again. WE are dedicating our lives to her. We will never leave her side until we have died. And we will have died by serving her.”

“That’s right. We will do anything to sleep with her- excuse me, I mean promote her music.”

The girls all looked at each other. They could all sense in one another a giant oscillating crush on Blaze that was throwing off their internal balance. The least standing girl, who had not spoken, addressed the group.

“Do you guys want to go put on all black outfits and smoke on the quad?”

She was met with very enthusiastic yeses. All six girls collected their things and left, murmuring to each other how incredible Blaze was. Louis sat up. Everything was going according to plan. He stood up and left the cafe. As he ambled through the beautiful scenery back to the hotel, he pulled out his phone. From his contacts he tapped ‘Devil-Work’. He raised the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

“Lucifer!” chirped an excited voice on the other end.

“Hey Boss, how’re things?”

“Ah everything is fine here. Kinda swamped at admissions since the pope changed all those rules. How about you? How’s our little prodigy?”

“Bobby, she’s awesome. Even more powerful than I thought. The audience curb stomped a guy for her.”

“Fantastic. So what’s going on, why you calling?”

“Oh ha, um, I’m calling because I forgot um, what’s next.”

“Uck, Louis, really? You don’t remember?”

“No! You never gave me a copy of the prophecy.”

“Yeah, because it’s in the Apocrypha folder on the cloud.”

“God, Bobby, I hate this new system.”

“Well too bad you little squirter. Learn it. I gotta go.”

“Don’t call me a squirter!” Louis shouted into the phone, but Bobby had already hung up.

---

Louis opened the door to the hotel room. Blaze was awake and flipping through channels on the TV.

“Blaze I need your help with something. Are you good with phones?” Louis asked.

“Of course I’m good with phones. I was born in 1992.”

“What?”

“Everybody knows, anyone born after 1986 has a solid grasp of technology. Anyone older than that types with their pointer fingers.”

“Alright…well I need help finding a document on a cloud.”

“Okay, sure.” Blaze beckoned for his phone and Louis handed it over. She typed a few things in then asked “What’s your email address?”

“Lucifer at Hell dot org”

Blaze’s head shot up, a look of horror on her face. “Oh my Jesus holding a baby lamb, are you the devil?”

Louis looked annoyed, as if he got this question a lot. “No. No, I’m not the devil.”

“But your name is Lucifer! That’s the Devil’s name!”

“No. The Devil’s name is Robert but he goes by Bobby. I’m Lucifer. The guys who wrote the bible got it all confused. They got all our last names mixed up. I’m Lucifer Stetson, then there’s Kevin Satan, Richard Beelzebub, and Bobby D. The D is for Devil. We’re all actually different people.”

“Whoa. And the dot org — Hell is an organization?”

“Yeah, it’s a non-profit.”

“Wow. Well anyway, here’s the drive, you should be able to access what you’re looking for now.”

Louis took the phone and began searching for the folder. Blaze sat on the bed watching him with the curiosity and trust of a child.

“So what’s next?” she asked excitedly.

“Hmmm,” Louis hummed, “Something about Gemini. Hm. Are there any notable twin lesbians?”

“Oh my Jesus dropping a baby lamb. This is gonna be intense.”

---

F. Sanger is a comedienne in NY. She now has more in common with E.L. James than she is willing to admit.

Check back next week for Intense Lesbian Fanfiction: Part Three! It’ll be INTENSE.

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