Intense Lesbian Fanfiction is Autostraddle’s first original fiction, in three parts. It’s also the best thing that’s ever happened.
The night was deep and dark over Ellen DeGeneres’ Burbank mansion. Inside her mahogany themed living room, Ellen sat in a velvet high back chair and quietly sipped whiskey out of a crystal glass. In front of her a fire roared in the fireplace. Portia was sleeping quietly at her feet. This was a typical night for Ellen, sitting there, with her wife, in her velvet chair, wearing her velvet smoking jacket, her velvet slippers, and her favorite velvet vest (most things Ellen owns are velvet). She was in the middle of sipping her whiskey when she suddenly felt a great pressure in the back of her head. The sudden pain startled her so, that she clamped her hands into fists, subsequently shattering the crystalline glass and spilling whiskey all over her velvet everything. Ellen shook the bits of crystal off her hand, which was not bleeding due to the calluses from many years of comedy, and touched the back of her head. The pressure had faded as quickly as it had come on. Ellen knew exactly what it meant though.
“She’s here,” Ellen said.
Portia, at her feet, looked up with scared eyes.
“Shhhh, shhhhh,” Ellen said and pet Portia’s cute short haircut. “It’s okay girl, go back to sleep.”
Portia dutifully put her head back down.
Suddenly, the velvet phone on the table next to the chair began to ring. Ellen picked it up.
“It’s Jodie,” said Jodie Foster on the other line. “did you feel it? Is it happening?”
“Yes,” replied Ellen. “It’s finally happening.”
“Oh my God,” Jodie breathed. “Should we tell the others?”
“I’m sure they felt it, too,” Ellen said. “All we have to do now is wait.”
“Okay. So how is everything going? How’s the house-”
“Not now Jodie, this is too intense.”
Ellen hung up the phone. Portia looked up again.
“I SAID GO TO SLEEP.”
She was not where you’d expect her to be. She was not on her bike in San Francisco, or wearing a beanie in Brooklyn. She was not in her dorm at Smith, or tending a bar in Northampton. She was not in Whole Foods, or even Trader Joe’s. But she was on Tumblr; her URL was Dyke.D.Eisenhower.tumblr.com.
The girl was Katie Landsman, and she was no big-time lesbian; she was a tiny-time lesbian. Twenty one years old, she had been living at home since she had attended a two-year college to become a computer programmer. While she wasn’t at her day job, she was home fiddling with her laptop or guitar. In her hometown, (Mexico, Missouri) she was one of two lesbians. The other was a freshman at the local high school who one day declared, “I’M A LESBIAN. DEAL WITH IT,” then dyed her hair blue and also commanded people to “deal with it.” Tiny-time Katie had only one real girlfriend; a girl named Jess she met on Tumblr who, after she drove three hours to meet up with, Katie realized she had nothing in common with and they sheepishly broke up after three dates. Katie, however, was done being a joke. She knew she had potential to be a big-time lesbian and it was just a matter of finding out how.
Hunched over her computer on her bed, Katie Landsman had a realization: she should go by her middle name. Katie’s middle name was her mother’s maiden name, and Katie’s mother had come from a long line of arson investigators. One of Katie’s greater grandpas had the brilliant idea of changing the family name from Mattison to Blaze; he said it would make for some great puns. And so when Katie’s mom, formerly Miss Mildred Blaze, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, she gave her the name Kathryn Blaze Landsman.
Katie slipped off her bed and walked over to her full-length mirror. She looked at herself and whispered “Call me Blaze.”
Almost immediately, the new name had filled her with a new sense of power. She could feel it swirling under her feet, and emanating from her chest. She looked at her hands, balled them into fists, and with a mighty roar shouted, “MOM CALL ME BLAZE FROM NOW ON, OKAY?”
From downstairs a faint, “‘Kay, sweetie,” could be heard. It was official. Blaze was here.
Next: Chapter 2