#london pride 🏳️‍🌈 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foodiegoogie · 16 days ago

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no one else, only you

lily evans x fem!reader | 2.75k

summary: you're a hundred percent gay for your best friend, lily evans. but you're also living in the 1980's—in conservative london, england, no less. where could pride fit in that? cw/tags: angst w/ fluff undertones, coming out scene, internalized homophobia, freddie mercury reference (may he rip 🤍) if i missed anything else, plz let me know! tnx <3 note: this one's for all my lesbian/gaylicious/bisexy/closeted girlies out there <3 you are so loved and seen by people like me. happy pride month! 🏳️‍🌈

based off of annabelle by annika bennett ₊˚⊹♡

It’s a wonder, isn’t it? How one person could share their life with another person for as long as they both live—or, at least, ‘til death do they part, anyway.

You’d argue that it wouldn’t be a wonder to think about that, no. You’d tell people with that mindset to get their heads out of the clouds, and face the facts: ‘til death do you part, so what’s the point? In a society with so many rules, standards, and reputations to uphold, how does one even come to life-altering decisions such as marriage? It feels… impossible.

Impossible, well—for you, it would seem. For others, like most of your friends, it’s annoyingly possible. James Potter is a rake, if the line of girls appearing in his flat on a nightly basis is to tell that. Sirius Black could get away with being straight with his looks, but you know him better than that. Remus Lupin is… private, but not secretive when it comes to your friend group. And Peter Pettigrew… Well, bless his soul, the boy tries his best.

Lily Evans, though? You couldn’t quite pinpoint what her deal is; and that’s saying a lot, considering how close the two of you are.

So, what exactly is her deal… with you?

Especially now, while you and Lily are sharing a bottle of wine in the warm ambience of her kitchen. You came over with this elaborate plan of how you could finally get over yourself and confess your feelings. But Lily—bless her heart—was so happy to see you, that things had started to take a little detour from your initial plan of action.

“—then I said, ‘No, Marls, don’t do it!’” Lily chuckles as she combs her fingers through her hair, ridding it of tangled knots.

“But then she—” The redhead chuckles again, interrupting herself before continuing, “she actually—”

“Does it?” You finish for her with a smile, sensing familiar butterflies in your stomach whenever you’re looking at Lily.

“Yeah!” She giggles, it’s music to your ears, and nearly spills her wine as she wobbles on her feet.

You think it’s a grand opportunity, considering how she’s only had at least half of the wine in her glass. Still sober enough to be serious for an important conversation, and still tipsy enough to forget said conversation the day after.

“Anyway,” Lily starts again, sobering herself up despite the flush in her cheeks, “moving forward—”

“Hey, Lils—”

You lunge as she nearly trips over herself while literally moving forward, catching her by the arms. You give her a squeeze to help ground herself, trying not to think about the warmth between your skinship.

As soon as Lily registers your hands gripping her steady, she frowns at them.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked.

How hypocritical of you, Evans, you thought to yourself.

“Oh, I’m quite dandy right now, actually. It’s you that’s not okay,” You tell her with gentle sarcasm in your voice. With an arm around her shoulders and a hand in the crook of her elbow, you guide her towards the living room.

Eventually, you make it to the worn brown couch that looks cozier than ever in the warm lighting of the lamp, standing in the corner. You make sure Lily makes a soft landing on the cushions, giving her a throw pillow when she barely reaches for one, before you sit right down beside her.

It’s a couch that fits four people, at most. But you’d think two people were sitting on either side of the couch while you and Lily sat tight and cozy in the middle. You can’t stop thinking about the warmth she’s radiating since you got here.

You don’t realize you’re watching Lily with a weighted, concerned gaze until she’s smiling at you again, all amused and whimsical-looking.

“You’ve got that look on your face again.”

You sigh in fond exasperation, joining her in her lax position as you lean back on the couch.

“What look, Lils?”

She frowns and forms that adorable knot between her brows. “You know—that look!”

“I can’t really know that look if I can’t see myself doing it now, can I?”

“Oh… you’re right. Sorry.”

She sounds truly crestfallen when the word slips out of her mouth, and you feel achy about it. Heartache-y. Perhaps you should get a move on with ‘the plan.’

“S’alright, Lils. No biggie.”

But Lily’s still tipsy. You can tell that by how slowly she’s blinking, how her lips are pouted, and how she’s staring off into the distance like there’s something to be found there.

Neither of you talk after a while. The silence, though, isn’t uncomfortable. It’s more than that. It feels charged. Heavy. Pregnant.

The silence feels like it’s… waiting for itself to be broken—and Lily beats you to it.

“I really am glad you’re here, you know,” She opens up, voice a bit deeper and words a lot clearer than before. Still staring off into the distance but, nonetheless, you know she’s really starting to sober up now.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she continues.

There’s really no other way to go about it—that one’s totally your fault. What with an existential crisis about yourself, your country, your actual and romantic feelings for Lily, and so on—you had to step away from it all, if not completely, then at least for a while.

That had completely slipped out of your mind for a long, long while.

You chuckle slightly, albeit a little sheepish. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while either.”

Then, silence. A few seconds pass because you let them, and it feels like you should speak next. So, you start with a deep breath, “I—”

“—missed you.”

It’s barely heard, but you can’t miss it. Not when Lily’s right beside you when she says it. Her breath brushes your ear, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your breath hitches because it was exactly what you were going to say.

“I missed you,” Lily repeats herself, almost like her prior statement was just a slip of the tongue. Something that was just pure instinct, and not fully thought through. “Still miss you, actually.”

She sighs, forlorn, then shifts on her spot to face you completely like she’s about to drop something big and important.

But you take the risk before you lose the chance to say what you’ve been meaning to say since you came over.

“I have to tell you something,” You blurt out as Lily takes a sharp breath. She blinks, then nods for you to continue. With a deep breath, you do. “I…”

How do you start coming out to your best friend?

How do you say ‘I miss you’ in a non-homosexual way to the girl you’re totally homosexual for? Just to prepare Lily for the eventual truth bomb, of course.

You think Lily catches the gulp you take and the fidgeting you do with your fingers, because she prompts, “You what, Y/N?” in that soft, sweet voice of hers.

You don’t even know why you’re so scared. This is the Lily Evans—kind-hearted to a fault, and the personified antonym of judgmental. She’s fearless for herself, and for her friends. Most of all, you know that she loves you. That goes without saying, yes. But you’re not sure it’s in the way that your heart has always wanted since the day you met her.

“I—” You exhale, trying to get over your ridiculous thoughts. “I missed you, too.”

Lily sighs like it’s a relief that you told her that. “Was that so hard to tell me? Here I was, expecting something else to come out of your mouth.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what, then?”

“Dunno. Doesn’t have to be specific, really. Maybe something that goes like ‘I just found out that my great gran disowned me?’”

A chuckle bubbles up unexpectedly from your throat, and Lily joins you in your amusement. The tense air disperses for a while as you share the laughter, but then you let out a small, happy sigh.

“Seriously, though. I do need to tell you something. Not just—” You shake your head, “not just ‘I miss you.’”

“Okay, er—” Lily straightens her posture, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “—go ahead. Tell me.”

“Right, so…” You take another deep breath because this is the moment: the make-or-break moment of your friendship with Lily. “...you know how there’s been rumours about Freddie Mercury going around? About his… health and—sexuality…?”

“Yeah, heard about it on the news,” The redhead replied. “What about them?”

“Well… you see…” You turn your head down, picking at your fingernails. “I’m kind of going through the same thing?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lily coos, arms instantly coming round you, squeezing you tight. You return her embrace with equal, grateful measure. It was a hug you probably needed. “I’m sorry you’re going through that. I had no idea.”

You think the conversation’s getting off on a good note, so far. So, you continue, chuckling sheepishly. “Yeah, well. It’s not easy to say or go through, not exactly.

“But… that’s not all that there is, really.”

“Oh? Then what else is there to say?”

“I don’t have rumors going ‘round about me. Not like Freddie Mercury,” A weak attempt at lightening up the situation, but you coax a small smile out of Lily. “But the sexuality bit… that one’s true.”

There’s silence after that. You’re waiting and watching for Lily’s reaction. Anything that would signal you to back out of this conversation altogether or continue. But she’s just as serious as she was earlier when the topic about Freddie Mercury opened in the first place. You take it as a sign to go on.

Besides, you’ve come here with a clear objective, right? The worst that could happen was… your potential rejection, and the possibility that Lily might find you repulsive after and kick you out of her flat.

You decide to take that risk with the thought that we, human beings, only live once. If you couldn’t confess to Lily now, then when will you ever?

“The truth is, Lils, I’m saying all this because…” You give out a small huff of courage. “I like girls.”

Expecting silence to take over again, you get brave to glance at Lily, who’s now smiling at you with so much pride, it feels just slightly overwhelming.

“Y/N,” She starts, taking your hands in both of hers, thumbs sweeping over your knuckles. “I’m really glad you decided to tell me this, I—”

“I like you, too.”

Lily freezes upon hearing you say that, so you’re frozen, too. Perhaps it was because of the way she took your hands and held it in hers, so warm and welcoming. Not an ounce of roughness despite the rough texture of her hard-working hands. Not a hint of carelessness despite the gentle manner she holds your hands with.

“I meant to say—” You sigh, frustrated with yourself for being so unclear. “I like girls, and I like you, Lils. As… as more than just my best friend. So much more than that.”

It comes as a surprise to you that she’s still holding your hands despite the truth bomb you’d just dropped on her all of a sudden. But, if anything, you’re grateful that she hasn’t found you so repulsive to flinch away from you. Well, not yet at least.

“Is that…” Lily finally speaks, sounding slightly out of breath. You’re hoping it’s not because she’s about to cry and disown you as her friend. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” You answer with a reluctant smile, tears beginning to form in your eyes. Your vision becomes blurry, so you rush to say, “I know that might throw you off, Lils, but it’s been true for so long that I—”

Lily thumbs away the tear slipping down your cheek—the tear you didn’t even realize was there in the first place. That action alone prompts a sob out of you. Whether that was a sob of relief, forgiveness for yourself, or fear, however—you couldn’t decide.

“It’s okay,” She whispers to you, tucking a hair strand behind your ear. Her hand lingers near your cheek. “Just breathe, yeah? Breathe, darling.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting more tears rain down on your face. Lily frees her hands to press them against your cheeks, grounding you with pressure alone. She guides you through one, two, three deep breaths, until the last exhale finally eases your nerves and rapid heartbeat.

“M’sorry, sorry…” You sniffle, shaking your head as your hands rise to pry Lily’s off of your face, already more than grateful for her kindness, but she just presses them closer (if that was even possible).

“No, don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong, alright?” There’s more hair falling around your face, so she tucks the strands behind both your ears. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

“No, you don’t understand,” You rush to say, trying to sober up as you blink rapidly. “I’m— I’m not normal—”

“And who is, these days, anyway?” Lily stresses, “Listen to me, alright? Listen to me very carefully, because I know how stubborn you are, especially when you’re trying to get the last word in. Okay?”

“Okay,” You murmur weakly.

“The world isn’t kind to anyone, we both know that,” Her hands leave your face—your flushed cheeks contrasting against the sudden cold. But then she holds your hands tightly as she says, “But I am, and we both know that, don’t we?”

You nod your head in reply.

Lily nods back, satisfied with your response. “So, all I can tell you now is thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this, and for being honest with me. I accept—”

You’re crying again before she gets to go through with her sentence, but it doesn’t faze Lily in the slightest. In fact, she tilts your head back up with a finger, and wipes away your tears. When your sobs get quiet and shoulders stop shaking, she continues.

“I accept who you are—that never really changed since high school, Y/N. Even when I wasn’t aware of this about you. Really, I— it’s more than that, actually. I feel…” Horrified? Disgusted? Fascinated like I’m some alien or species of some kind—

“...I feel the same way about you.”

You must be so out of it already that you might have misheard Lily telling you that she feels the same way about you. Internally, you curse your mind for playing cruel tricks on your senses.

But you still feel the warmth of her hands pressed to your cheeks, the fabric of her dress brushing against your knees, the weight of this entire moment— it’s all still so present, and so vivid, they couldn’t possibly be just a figment of your imagination.

“You do?” You ask her.

Lily nods, smiling in that bedazzling way she always does. Her eyes are all watery now, too. “I do, yeah. I really, really do.”

A wet chuckle slips past your lips, and this time around, you initiate the skinship— leaning forth to press your forehead against hers, closing your eyes.

“That’s a relief,” You whisper with a smile. “There was no one else, Lils. Just you. Only you.”

You hear Lily sigh, then, her breath brushing against your lips. The tips of your noses bump into each other. It all feels like the right moment to get rid of the space between you and finally learn how it feels like to kiss a girl— your dream girl since high school.

But neither of you closes the space nor asks for it to happen. You just sit there— enjoying each other’s company, and the relief that you both don’t feel the need to hide behind ‘just friends’ anymore.

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rustic-ghoul · 1 year ago

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I’ve been creating some T-Shirt designs for pride month and am considering printing this to wear for my first London Pride 🏳️‍🌈🤣🌈

#good omens #aziraphale #go #michael sheen #gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide #tshirt #designing #good omens fanart #fanart #angel #beautiful gay little angel

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nokkomo · 1 month ago

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HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE 🗣🔥🌈🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Remember the mini gays at the museum? Welp, now I made em as punks from the 80s and early 90s in London lol

PUNKTAVIUS FOR EVERYONE :D

(Dw Jed is flirting with Octavius in the 4th page lol)

#pride month #pride 2025 #happy pride 🌈#jedtavius #its that time of the year fellas #jedtavius natm #natm #night at the museum fanart #night at the museum #octavius natm #jedediah natm #jedediah x octavius #nokkomoart #punk

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hard--headed--woman · 1 year ago

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Hello and happy Pride Month everyone ! 🏳️‍🌈

As promised, I am going to talk about an important lesbian in history everyday. And this first post is about one of my favourite :

Renée Vivien !

I have seen some people talk about her here but she clearly isn’t as famous as she should be, and she deserves way more recognition!

Renée Vivien, whose birth name is Pauline Mary Tam, was a British writer poetess, who wrote her poetry (and most of her works) in french ; born in 1877, she died in 1909, at only 32 years old.

Renée was openly a lesbian, and she never tried to hide it despite the society she lived in being extremely homophobic and considering homosexuality as an illness. In her poetry, she mentions her love for women a lot, and wrote a lot of love poems for several of her lovers. This even earned her the nickname “Sappho 1900”. ("Sappho 1900, Sappho cent pour cent").

Of Sappho, she was by the way a huge fan : in 1903, she published the work "Sappho", in which the poet's Greek texts are followed by a French translation, as well as verses by Renée Vivien, which thus "completes" the remaining fragments of Sappho's writings. This collection greatly helped to anchor Sappho's work and her identity as a lesbian woman in our culture.

Her work consists of :

Twelve collections of poems, totalling more than 500 poems

Several translations of Greek poetesses (including Sappho)

Seven books of prose

Around ten novels (written under various pseudonyms)

A posthumously published collection of short Gothic tales (written in English this time)

A book about Anne Boleyn's life

It is also possible to read her diary and the letters she exchanged with her lovers, friends and other personalities of her time, including Natalie Clifford Barney, Colette, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha and others.

Pauline studied both in Paris and in London, then decided, once she came of age, to come and settle in Paris. She published her first collection,"Études et Préludes" in 1901, under the pseudonym R.Vivien. This pseudonym later became René Vivien (the male version of Renée) then Renée Vivien, the name under which she will be remembered. We can easily guess that she first chose these neutral then masculine pseudonyms to be able to write and be published despite the misogyny and homophobia of her time, especially given the themes exploited in her writings.

Sadness, death, ancient Greece, love, despair, solitude and love are the most recurrent themes in Renée's poems. There is actually a poetry prize in her name, the Prix Renée Vivien, which rewards poets whose themes and style are close to those of Renée Vivien.

Among Renée's best-known lovers is Natalie Clifford Barney, a famous writer and poet, with whom she had a relationship for several years before leaving her, tired of her infidelities. It is said that Natalie never accepted this breakup and tried until the end to get her back by all means, sending her love letters even years after.

Renée then had a relationship of more than six years with the rich Baroness Hélène de Zuylen, married and mother of two children, with whom she traveled extensively around the world and collaborated on the writing of several works (under the collective pseudonym Paule Riversdale). In a letter to her friend Jean Charles-Brun, Renée admitted that she considered herself married to Hélène.

While still living with the Baroness, she received a letter from a mysterious admirer, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha. What followed was an intense four-year epistolary relationship, interspersed with brief clandestine meetings. In 1908, however, Kérimé, the wife of a Turkish diplomat, put an end to their relationship when she had to follow her husband to St. Petersburg. This break-up probably contributed to Renée's tragic end.

The writer was in deep psychological distress, which only worsened from 1908 onwards. Alcoholic and suicidal, she began refusing to eat properly, and attempted suicide with laudanum. After this failed suicide attempt, she contracted pleurisy, which left her very weak, and then chronic gastritis due to her alcohol abuse. She gradually fell into anorexia, and, with her limbs paralyzed by multiple neuritis, she died on November 18, 1909, aged just 32. Her death was attributed to "pulmonary congestion", probably due to pneumonia complicated by alcohol and anorexia.

After her death, intellectuals, artists and newspapers, out of lesbophobia, tried to make her forgotten by the literary world, describing her as a woman of evil and damnation, perverse and cruel, going so far as to invent for her a life of crime, debauchery, orgies with married women, violence and cocaine consumption.

Today, Renée Vivien's name is no longer known to the general public, and is never mentioned alongside those of great ans famous poets such as Arthur Rimbaud or Charles Baudelaire, despite her gorgeous poetry, her immense talent and fascinating work.

She's personally my favourite, and not only because she was a lesbian. Her poetry is the most beautiful, interesting and deep poetry I have ever seen. She deserves to be as famous as Victor Hugo or Paul Eluard (and even more famous, in my opinion lol).

Here is one of her poems, with its english translation :

A link to some of her poems (in french but you can use a translator) ;

And two links with some of her poems translated into english : 1 and 2.

You should totally buy and read her books and poems, I have them and they're amazing!!! I'll post more translations of her poems in the future for those interested.

Anyway, thanks for reading and see you tomorrow for the second post!

#lesbian #renée vivien #renee vivien #pride #pride month #poetry #french poetry #poésie française #poésie #female homosexuality #female homosexual #lesbian history #lesbian artist

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super-ace · 2 years ago

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I went to my first Pride event in London in 2019 and at the time I was still ‘very straight’ and I went with a straight friend as allies. I honestly use the word ally as a badge of honour when I talk about her because she’s so great and I will genuinely always go to her instead of my gay mates whenever I’m having a wobble about my sexuality. At the time I wasn’t properly questioning my sexuality, it was more of a background niggle. But I just remember thinking that I was with my people. Looking around and seeing everyone be unapologetically themselves and I’d see kids with their parents which made me emotional at the thought that they were so supportive. I always felt such an affinity with the queer community and just felt so at home at Pride. So whenever people say that aces and aros aren’t part of the queer community I get my back up a bit because I’ve only ever felt part of the queer community.

🏳️‍🌈❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🏳️‍⚧️

🖤🩶🤍💜

💚🤍🩶🖤

#asexual #ace #asexuality #asexual spectrum #ace pride #aroace #aromantic #aro #queer #lgbtqia+#happy pride 🌈

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ashleymilesphil · 2 months ago

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Pride is coming. What will you do for queer and trans people around the world?🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

As rainbow flags start filling timelines and corporations gear up to market “allyship,” I want to ask what are we doing for our global queer family? What are we doing for the trans people being hunted, the lesbians being raped and silenced, the refugees sleeping in overcrowded shelters without clean water, medicine, or safety?

Because yes — queer refugees exist.

Right now, in places like South Sudan, LGBTQ+ refugees are living under constant threat. People like me and my community are trapped in refugee camps simply for being who we are. We’ve been driven from our homes, faced police violence, sexual assault, starvation, disease and still, most of the world doesn’t know we’re here.

So this Pride, don’t just wear the flag. Stand for what it means.

Ask yourself:

• Will I speak up for queer voices being silenced in refugee camps?

• Will I support groups on the ground fighting for survival?

• Will I challenge rainbow capitalism and demand real accountability from governments and corporations?

• Will I use my platform to amplify global queer stories, not just Western ones?

Because Pride isn’t just celebration it’s resistance. It’s about us all of us from New York to Nairobi, from London to Juba, from the free streets to the crowded camps where we are still waiting to be seen.

We need global solidarity. We need togetherness. We need you.

This Pride, remember: Queer liberation isn’t global until everyone is free.

NB: check pinned to see how you can support

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sandrafromlegal-ti · 1 month ago

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Happy pride, everyone!! 🏳️‍🌈🩵

Currently planning how to TI will take part in the London, New York, Sydney, Tokyo, and other pride parades around the globe 🫶

Because the right to love and be who you are is worth celebrating 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

#thunderbirds rp #thundersocials #sandrafromlegal-ti #cosmo the ti cat #ooc: so sad the pride parade in my area is in August for some reason 😔#Happpppy pride 🩵

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consult-sherlockholmes · 1 year ago

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Happy Pride in London 🏳️‍🌈

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fiotrethewey · 2 days ago

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Three years ago was my first London Pride, letting myself really think about how I felt about my sexuality and my gender.

I’m so very happy with where I am now. Here’s to the next three years ❤️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

#3 years on now living with Georgia cresting queer audio drama and living in Manchester.#wow how time flies #Fio talks #transgender man #my transgender journey #trans representation

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e-rated-beardo · 1 year ago

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Today marks the first time someone notices (edit: tells me they've noticed) the tiny, insignificant, sidenote, literally-one-word clue to the plot-irrelevant fact that an OC in the Second Coming fic I completed two months ago is trans - so I'm going to take the shaky pride month justification and reshare the fic and some of the artworks I made before I joined Tumblr 🏳️‍🌈

Length: 3 parts, ~117k words; complete Series rating: Explicit (but the three sections where it applies are skippable) Tags: They Are Not Talking, The Second Coming, Crowley Is A Mess, Finding Meaning, Heaven Is Terrible, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, Protective Aziraphale, BAMF Aziraphale, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Exiled from Heaven, Temporarily Human, Memory Loss, Skippable Smut, South Downs Cottage, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Ineffable Husbands (plus about 3451325 more tags on ao3)

Summaries for the three parts + art dump below the break! ⬇️

Part 1: After The End (T; 26k words)

Summary: Aziraphale has gone back to Heaven and Crowley has gone… well, in the direction his bonnet pointed, really; it doesn't matter, as long as it's anywhere but London. His back seat full of plants and his passenger seat full of empty bottles, he starts finding that his bonnet points back towards Soho more often than not and that the music is oddly appropriate. And some of the humans—and angel—on Whickber Street seem to care, for whatever stupid reason, whether he's dead or alive.

Part 2: Is It Raining In Heaven? (T; 30k words)

Summary: "It was the lark, the herald of the morn, no nightingale... I must be gone and live, or stay and die." (Romeo and Juliet, Act III, scene 5)

The new Supreme Archangel is Struggling. He can't stop the Second Coming, the archangels barely take him seriously, and a fog of blissful joy, only controllable by incessant, stone-cold fury, seems set to make his own mind betray him. Aziraphale has never been the one with the plan, but now, he needs to prevent the next apocalypse and keep Crowley safe on Earth, all while that reckless serpent insists on meddling in Heaven's affairs. (At least the new Christ is a good kid, and the Pope has nice tea.)

Part 3: Not Single Spies (E; 61k words)

Summary: A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig.

Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world.

Everything comes to a head with a delivery van, a flaming sword, a road trip, a prophecy, a wheat field and a miracle of rather significant proportions.

ping @goodomensafterdark ❤️

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