#let’s go lesbians billy on the street

[lokiusly]

me downloading positive and negative reaction memes & gifs in preparation for Loki season finale because Lokius could go either way at this point

[himbeaux-on-ice]

LETS GO CHAOS LETS GO

[aemonded]

Me resisting the urge to yell LETS GO LESBIANS at random cute lesbian couples I see holding hands in public in the off chance they don't have the same niche internet humour I do: -let's go lesbians -whisper-

[i-am-not-carrot]

i do it all for them*

*the sapphics commenting on my fan fiction

[flowerhrt]

the end of love | daisy jones.

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader

summary: two weeks after your break up, daisy decides to confront you and ask what's wrong.

warnings: it's the 70s, internalized homophobia, eddie being a bit of a dick, daisy is clean and the band is still together, reader is a lesbian.

a/n: i interpret daisy as a lesbian who deals with compulsive heterosexuality.

word count: 2.4k

breathe in. breathe out. it's just one song. record it all in one go, ignore billy's stupid complaints, and then go home. 

well, what used to be home.

 “daisy, you ready to go?” she heard teddy ask from the other side of the recording booth. “yeah, i'm fine. let's get this over with.” the redhead said before taking a sip of the glass of cold water she had next to her. she closed her eyes as she felt the liquid make its way through her throat.

 breathe in. breathe out. she opened her eyes to find the band and camila next to teddy, all smiling encouragingly at her. daisy was about to smile back when the door to the recording studio opened abruptly. “holy shit, tell me i'm not late.” 

oh fuck.

 daisy felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. why is she here? she was supposed to be in new york, not los angeles.

 “y/n! you are kind of late.. hope it was for a good reason.” warren said with a wink “tell me the guy at least fucks good.” the drummer added while wiggling his eyebrows.

 the blue-eyed singer wanted to disappear. she tried to distract herself by playing with the hems of her long-sleeved white shirt. huh, funny. daisy thought. she always loved it when i wore this one.

 “yeah, warren. he fucked better than you ever will.” y/n answered, not before rolling her eyes at their friend.

 they didn't know y/n didn't fuck any guy last night.

 they didn't know y/n would never fuck a guy. ever. they didn't know y/n was late because she didn't know if she could face her ex girlfriend after she told her she was leaving for good. they hadn't seen each other for two weeks, and it was fucking torture for both of them. they had grown so used to always waking up next to each other, cooking together, and doing pretty much everything together, and god did it feel weird to not see each other for longer than a day. 

daisy felt like she couldn't breathe when y/n left. she always had to remind herself to breathe in and breathe out. it was as if the girl before her took all the oxygen in the world when she walked out of daisy's front door. right. she remembered bitterly as she felt the fabric of the shirt in her hands.

 daisy's front door. daisy's home. 

because she refused to move in with her even after three years of secretly seeing each other. she refused to let anyone know about their relationship. not even simone, who is like… them. and daisy understood, she obviously did.

 it was dangerous to be one of the world's most famous singers and openly date a woman. openly love a woman. openly say the word lesbian. people would crucify you in the street if they knew you were a homosexual. that was the main reason y/n was scared, she was just a tour photographer who happened to become close with the band and fall in love with daisy on the way. if the world knew she was into women, she would never get another job.

 daisy tried to tell her they would be okay, to screw the rest of the world. they loved each other. how could that ever be bad? as far as she knew, love wasn't a bad thing. but maybe she only thought that because she didn't have much experience with it. her parents hated her. men used her. she only has the band, simone, and y/n. had y/n. not anymore. 

“daisy!” her name being yelled at her got her out of the trance she was in. “are you going deaf or are you just high as shit?” eddie asked from the microphone. 

“she's in recovery, eddie. stop joking about that.” she heard a soft voice she could recognize anywhere snap back at him. “right, sorry.” the bassist said with his hands held up high as a way of showing surrender.

 y/n looked at her and they made eye contact for a solid second. daisy gave her a small smile and looked down. “alright, let's get this party started!” warren hollered as daisy put her headphones on to start recording. “okay, the end of love, take one.” 

the redhead remembered to breathe as she heard the first notes of the song.

 i feel nervous in a way that can't be named.

i dreamt last night of a sign that read, the end of love. 

she looked up and saw y/n drumming her fingers against her waist. she obviously knew the song was about her. ever since daisy met the photographer, almost every song she has written has been about her. the singer wrote the end of love the day after y/n walked out of her new york apartment. 

it's pitiful, she thinks. even when they're not romantically together anymore, she still writes about her.

 and i remember thinking even in my dreaming.

 it was a good line for a song. 

daisy tried to steady her breathing but when she looked at y/n she felt like she was about to pass out.

 breathe in. breathe out.

 breathe in. i can't fucking do this. 

the flower-named girl placed her headphones down and said a quick “i need some fresh air.” before storming out of the recording booth. daisy walked through god knows how many rooms, until she found an empty one in the back of the building, she sat on the floor and leaned against the door she had just walked through.

 you dumb fucking idiot, she thought. now they're all going to think you´re singing about someone in the room, or even worse, that you've relapsed and can't record a damn song. she can't go through this again.

 if the band thinking she was in love with billy dunne, when she's not even into men, was bad enough, them seeing her overreact this way is going to make them figure out she has been seeing someone. 

there was a minute of silence while she tried to think of an excuse to say when she gets back into the studio, but it was all interrupted by a soft knock coming from the other side of the wooden door she has been leaning against.

 “i'm fine, karen. just give me a second.” the blue-eyed girl said while running a hand through her long red hair. 

“i'm not karen, but if you want me to go get her, i can do that.” her heart sank as she heard y/n's voice.

 “no!” she heard her own voice answer in a quick desperate way. she grimaced at how pathetic she sounded.

 “well, is it okay if i come in?”

 one beat. two beats. daisy unlocked the door.

 the photographer walked into the room and sat on the opposite side of the singer, facing her. “do you want to talk about it?”

 “talk about what?” 

the girl sighed and leaned her face against the palm of her right hand. “about what just happened. you don't normally walk out of a recording session, daisy. not ever. are you okay?” she asked as she looked straight into daisy's big blue eyes.

 the singer stared back and bit her lip as she felt her eyes start to water. “i miss you.” 

“daisy-” 

“no.” she interrupted. “you say you love me but then decide to break up with me.” she says with a scoff. “without even letting me ask you what i did wrong. without even letting me try and fight for you. for us.” a tear streamed down her right cheek.

 it took everything in the girl before her to not wipe it, the way she always did. 

“listen, i understand being scared. do you think i'm not frightened of how the boys will react if they ever find out we are the way we are? but i didn't care as long as i had you. i know you have your doubts. but why did we have to hide from everyone? simone would never treat us differently. we both know she's a lesbian. just like you and i.” she pointed a finger at herself and the girl who now wouldn't dare to look her in the eye. 

“karen wouldn't either, she's too busy minding her own fucking business to be disgusted by us. even camila wouldn't care, she'd be delighted to know i've never felt an ounce of love for her husband” daisy was fully crying now. god, she loved her girlfriend so much. why wasn't that enough for her?

 “i left for that exact reason.” 

“what?” she asked.

 “you deserve someone who isn't afraid to love you. who isn't afraid of who she is.” y/n continued. “you know, billy and graham saw simone kiss her girlfriend at your birthday party” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “and they didn't give a single shit.” daisy was silent as she listened intently to her ex-girlfriend's voice.

 “when simone realized they saw her, she told them they'd been together for over five years. and shit, they truly didn't care. even warren said it wasn't fair simone found a girlfriend way before he met lisa.” y/n played with the rings placed around her fingers to avoid eye contact. “the entire band knows about simone, and they think it's normal.” 

daisy's heart was racing, she didn't know if it was excitement for simone, because her best friend was able to love her girlfriend without a care. or if it was happiness, because the rest accepting simone could only mean one thing. if the six don't care about simone and her girlfriend, then that means they won't care about her and y/n.

 the photographer was silent for a while, so daisy decided to speak first. “i don't really understand. you left me because you're afraid of them knowing about us. but, you also know they wouldn't care if they find out?” the singer´s eyes scanned her ex girlfriend´s face, trying to find an answer. 

“yeah… it's stupid.”

 “damn right, it fucking is!” daisy sighed. “i love you. you love me. we can at least tell them and simone about our relationship.”

 y/n was the one holding back tears now. “i want to. i truly do.” 

“then what's stopping you?” her voice softened at the sight of the girl she loves the most crying in front of her.

 “I can't openly love you, not when i can't even say… well, you know what.”

 “god, y/n. you didn't tell me you were still struggling with that. i could've helped you.”

 “i know you would've, but i didn't want to be a burden.” daisy slowly raised her arm and caressed y/n's cheek in the soft, loving way she always does. “you're not a burden. not ever. not to me.” the flower-named girl tucked the girl's hair behind her ear. 

“i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can't breathe when i'm without you.” she continued. “you helped me when i was trying to recover from my addiction. you were there when i got out of rehab. you've helped me stay clean.” 

“that was all you, daisy.” 

“yeah, but you were next to me the entire time. the least i can do is be next to you, while you learn to accept yourself.”  “it took me a while to come to terms with being a lesbian, too.” daisy said as she twirled a piece of y/n's hair around her finger. 

“i used to think the only way i could make it into the industry was by not caring about men stealing my music because at least people would hear them. fuck, i forced myself to want them, the same way they wanted me. because that was the closest i thought i'd ever get to being loved.” “but that's not what love is. love is what you and i have.”

 y/n placed her hand over daisy's. “i want to be brave, for you.”

 “you already are. you just need to be brave for yourself. because you deserve it.”

 “thank you, for everything.”  y/n gave her a soft small smile. “you don't have to thank me for anything, seeing you smile is good enough for me.” 

 the two women locked eyes, and they just stared at each other for a small moment. y/n's hands began to shake with desperation, she craved the feeling of daisy against her. and suddenly, she felt a force pulling her towards the redhead girl, daisy placed her hands on both sides of y/n's waist, and instinctively, as if her body was made to be next to her's, y/n placed her hands behind daisy's neck, the same way she has done for the past few years, their bodies were pieces of a puzzle made to be together.

 they both leaned into each other, they were so close, they could feel each other's noses rubbing together, daisy smiled at the sensation. “can i-” daisy started “you don't even have to ask.” the girl interrupted, before smashing her lips into the singer's.

 their lips locked, the two women having been in the exact same position hundreds of times, but this was different. this kiss was about understanding, about forgiveness, about acceptance, about moving forward. it lasted a few more moments until they were out of breath and had to pull away. 

“i love you, daisy jones.” the girl whispered against daisy's lips. “i love you, y/n l/n.” she answered with glossy, vibrant eyes. before getting back into her usual cocky self.

 “well, not to spoil my amazing new song, which is going to be a hit, but there's a specific lyric i think you're going to like.” she said, trying to fight back a smile. y/n rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.

 “oh yeah? what is it?” daisy cupped y/n's cheeks and stared lovingly into her lover's eyes. “i've always been in love with you. could you tell it from the moment that i met you?” the redhead sang before kissing her beautiful girlfriend again, and again, and again.

 daisy still had to finish recording her song, and they still had to explain what took the photographer so long to find her, but luckily, this time y/n wasn't afraid to tell them the truth. 

we were reaching in the dark

that summer in new york

and it was so far to fall

but it didn't hurt at all.

[oujinomikoto]

The Grease Rise of the Pink Ladies fandom is just that “let’s go lesbians let’s go” bit from Billy on the street but instead of Billy it’s LittleKuriboh, the creator of Yugioh Abridged.

[milllersfae]

"lets go lesbians" your not even a lesbian?😭

you are correct! i apologize for the confusion.

when i tag something “let’s go lesbians” it’s always in reference to sapphic content that is also a reference to a billy on the street episode! when i say it, i am happy to see wlw/lesbian content, not that I am a lesbian :)

i apologize if that misconstrued!

[corrodedcoughin]

billy on the street let’s go lesbians but it’s Steve and his collection of gays he’s acquired over the years

[razorsadness]

There is so much going on, but all my real-writing energy is going elsewhere, so I’ll do what I always do when I want to get it down, fast. I’ll make a list:

1. The last day of May was my Inferno-versary. 19 years ago that day was the first time I ever saw my beloved W/IFS live, and it’s no lie to say that I wouldn’t be who I am today had that never happened. So I dressed up: put silver glitter on my eyelids, a fake flower in my hair.

2. The first of June, me and P. took the kiddos to the beach in Kenosha, then for burgers & fries & rootbeer floats at The Spot, a drive-in restaurant which has been there since 1945. I flirted with a gorgeous guy who looked like a bad boy from an ‘80s movie, that beautiful & stoned & dangerous type. We drove home on Highway 32. The roadsides were lush with purple, pink, and white flowers. In downtown Racine, I spotted a hot fat femme, they had pink hair and pink leopard-print hot pants. And oh, happy Pride; I am just a midwestern queer who loves femmes and bad boys, who loves roadside flowers and rootbeer floats.

3. Speaking of midwestern queers—I’ve been getting to know more of my neighbors, and more of them are LGBTQ+ than I’d even previously realized. The folks across the street are a Black lesbian couple—I’ve talked to them both separately but never knew enough about them to realize they were a couple. This is the first year they’ve hung a Pride flag and it makes me wish I could, too, but since we rent I’m wary of it. Last week when we were grilling our Memphis BBQ ribs, L. (one-half of said couple) came by. We were listening to Otis Redding and other Stax Records artists; she said she heard the music and decided to come say hi, and then said the food smelled so good she was jealous. We had plenty of extra, so we made up two plates of ribs and sides for her to take home for herself and her wife. The other neighbor I’ve gotten to know is an elderly gay man. He’s in his eighties and uses a walker, and needs help with his garbage and recycling bins sometimes. A couple weeks ago, the neighbor who normally takes his trash and recycling out approached me, and asked if I could do it that week while they were out of town. Of course I said yes. When I went to do it, I took him a slice of the strawberry galette I’d made. He invited me in, and made us tea, and we sat and drank it and talked while listening to Billie Holiday, and he is just the most wonderful person. I want to know all his stories.

3.5. I did have a sorta shitty encounter with a different neighbor. He was walking by one evening when P. and C. and I were out in the front yard. C. was doing his usual stream-of-consciousness talk, and said something about his boyfriend. Now, he’s five; he calls girls he’s friends with his girlfriends and boys he’s friends with his boyfriends. He absolutely does not understand platonic vs. romantic relationships, nor should he at this age. But anyway, there he was, saying: “And I was with my boyfriend, Luke,” and the neighbor said: “Your boyfriend? Nope, nope, not allowed. I’ve got my eye on you.” And I wanted to be like hey, excuse me, what the fuck, do not place your homophobic opinions on my fucking five year old son who is just innocently talking about his friend, but my neighbor had kept walking so I couldn’t even say anything. I had a talk with C. later, to let him know it’s okay with me and his dad if he has a boyfriend when he’s older, and to not listen to our neighbor and he was sorta confused—fortunately, I don’t think he even really registered what our neighbor was saying or what it meant.

4. Other queer/Pride related stuff: I’ve been dressing however the hell I want on any given day, not worrying about what gender I ‘read’ as, not worrying about being ‘too old.’ Because if you can’t dress how you want during Pride month, when can you? So yeah, I’ve been rocking the short shorts, the crop tops, the big earrings and pseudo-rockabilly hairdos. I’ve been getting my flirt on with gorgeous queer babes, both online and off. I watched the online OFMD panel discussion on June 2. I heard from T. They apologized for using the wrong pronouns when introducing me at the last Vista 59 event. Turns out they had read an old bio of mine, when I was still using she/her pronouns, and didn’t realize I no longer did; also turns out I was using the wrong pronouns for him. (T. uses they/he pronouns.) And they asked me to be one of the featured performers at a Pride Month poetry event they’re hosting on the last day of June. My dad sent me a Pride Month thing from the Peninsula Pulse, and I realized that’s his way of telling me he knows I’m queer and he’s okay with it, all these years later.

5. Other things: P. and I celebrated our anniversary weeks with good food and good drink and great sex. As much as I may like to flirt with others, or fantasize about them, P.’s my person, and I feel lucky every day that we found each other and we’re still together. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden. As of this week, we’ve finally had some rain, and the things that were getting dried and dead are greening up again. The other week, I attended a Students Against Gun Violence rally that was being held downtown. I’ve been going to the library a lot. I found out one of my poems was selected for the Wall Poems project, so at some point later this year a beautiful mural with an excerpt from one of my poems is going up on a wall at the old Horlick Malted Milk factory. We canceled cable and switched Internet providers; because of the Affordable Connectivity program, our Internet will now be completely free, and between that and canceling cable, I’ll be saving like $100+ a month. I’ve been reading a lot, and writing so so so much, and I know I mentioned it in my last entry but I can’t tell you how good it is to write fiction again. I’ve been so focused on poetry, with a side of non-fiction prose, for so long, that I’d forgotten how fun and freeing fiction can be. There have been some hard and sad things mixed in, too, of course—there always are. But I don’t feel like writing about them right now, not here. So for now, I’ll leave it at that.

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

for the most part: muddling the truth (2009) - ron jordan

“lets go lesbians lets go”

[amandaleveille]

[megturn]

The Body Always Betrays Itself (it blushes, it trembles) 

StephCass | Love Confessions | Angst | Chapter 1 of 2

It’s so easy for Cassandra to understand the people around her, before anyone speaks she already knows how they feel and what they might do. But when they talk and when they expect her to talk back, that's when it gets complicated. Things aren’t complicated like that with Steph, there aren't any expectations she has to meet, there aren't any words she needs to find. With Stephanie, all the right words sit on the edge of her tongue daring her to speak. Sometimes Cassandra has to stop herself from saying too much; that's never happened with anyone before.

[kimjunnoodle]

every time I say “Lets go!” the Lesbians is implied

[worksby-d]

So I’m definitely a lesbian but Chris Evans is so fucking fine & he’s really making me question myself

I will shamelessly read fics about him til the day I die

LOOOL love that

[bixiaoshi]

i love you lesbians

[geekgreekgirl]

Never forget your roots