oh, i think perhaps you’ve got the wrong shop.

and i was gonna make a typical ineffable husbands caption, something along the lines of ‘aziraphale stop looking at crowley like he hung the moon’ challenge or whatever y’know haha very funny

but then i thought.... what if crowley actually did hang the moon?

we already know he had a part in the creation of the universe (“alpha centauri. i helped build that one.”) and his love for the earth and its inhabitants seems almost possessive at times, which make sense since he (and aziraphale) have been here from the beginning. but what if he was chosen to tempt adam and eve because he had helped create their world in the first place? the ultimate punishment: to destroy the paradise he had direct involvement in creating.

and it kills him to get that order - “go up there and make some trouble.” he could’ve done so much worse: gotten adam to kill eve outright, burned the garden to the ground, anything. but instead he gets the first humans to do the very same thing he fell for: question god. he gives them the apple, gives them the knowledge and ability to know the difference between good and bad, not because he wants to damn them for eternity, but because he thinks it’s the least harmful temptation he can implement. after all, god loves the humans above all else - surely she won’t get too mad at them?

but she does. she casts them out of eden, and once again crowley is faced with the reality of a god who isn’t as merciful as he thought. and because of that, the humans will never get to see the garden crowley helped make ever again - the last vestiges of his grace, the only reminder of his former glory. so what does crowley do? he spends the rest of eternity helping the humans see the rest of the universe he helped create. just so that his hard work can be appreciated, he reasons. he suggested to aristotle that the heavenly bodies in the sky were worth noting. he tempted galileo to question catholic teachings about heaven and earth, showed him how to look at these distant objects in the sky and planted the initial seeds of desire in mankind to reach those far away planets. and eventually, in the late 20th century, a few carefully whispered comments in russian and american political circles alike launches a global race to the stars. satan sends him a fruit basket, congratulating him for the Cold War. crowley doesn’t touch it, of course, but aziraphale picks out the chocolate-covered strawberries as they watch apollo 11 take off on crowley’s unecessarily large tv. and as neil armstrong takes that first step, as the world gets its first clear look at the surface of the moon, crowley lets out a shaky breath. and aziraphale looks over, sees yellow eyes widen with emotion despite the dark frames crowley thinks can fool the angel, and just knows. because crowley doesn’t want recognition, no. he wants the humans to see the wonders that had been made for them, before crowley had unintentionally ripped them away. the garden may be gone forever, but the universe is vast and magnificent and deserves to be seen. “well done, my dear. she’s beautiful.”