Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Crowley (Good Omens)

Since I started Neurodivergent Alley, some of the characters I’ve highlighted have included Ariel/Eric, Stede Bonnet/Edward Teach, Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt, Elizabeth Zott/Calvin Evans, and now Aziraphale/Crowley. It really hammers home that I’m not just drawn to individua; characters that I read as neurodivergent—it also greatly influences my favorite fictional couples.

Anyone who’s a fan of both Good Omens and Our Flag Means Death draws inevitable comparisons between them, especially between Aziraphale-Stede and Crowley-Ed. There are numerous parallels to be found within the two sets of characters, and that extends to neurodivergent headcanons as well. While Aziraphale, like Stede, feels more clearly autistic to me—both were the first characters on their respective shows who “pinged” for me in that regard—Crowley and Ed are a bit more covert. As with Ed, Crowley feels more AuDHD to me in that he’s better able to mask and often appears less outwardly stressed than his better half in social situations. He knows how to do what’s expected of him and can quickly adapt to situations, putting on the correct face to keep himself alive and recognizing the cues/ulterior motives that Aziraphale might miss.

(Side note: Neil Gaiman has recently been open about being autistic himself. I wouldn’t say that canonizes my ND interpretations of Aziraphale or Crowley, but I do think it lends credence to them!)

In the ol’ “plushy vs. stabby autism” continuum, it’s no secret where Crowley would fall. Even though he knows how to fit in in various settings, he prefers not to if it isn’t a matter of his or Aziraphale’s safety. He likes rubbing people the wrong way, whether that’s sauntering in drolly when other demons are impatiently waiting on him to deliver the Antichrist child or being rude/threatening to humans. He projects a “keep away from me” air of prickliness, and he can even include Aziraphale in that, despite how much he really does value Aziraphale’s company. When Aziraphale asks him for favors, Crowley often puts on a cantankerous show of refusal before eventually giving in.

Asking questions is deeply embedded in Crowley’s character, to the point that he suggests it’s why he fell and became a demon in the first place. He wants to understand things—facts, but also reasons. And in a cosmos where angels pliantly followed the will of God, wanting to know why you’re meant to be doing something is a big no-no. Questions are doubts, questions are challenges. There’s something that feels sooooooo autistic about Crowley being thrown out of Heaven for his honest and unquenchable desire to understand.

Hand in hand with asking questions comes wanting justice. Crowley may know how to play the part of a demon, pretending he doesn’t care about what happens to others, but he cares deeply. He can’t fathom how God would wipe out the entire Earth beyond the Ark with the great flood. When tasked by Hell to bring devastation upon Job, he can’t bring himself to kill Job’s goats, let alone his children. He can’t resist poking at Aziraphale’s hardline stance on morality, asking how an urchin in 19^th century Edinburgh can be expected to make righteous choices when she’s weighing the options of steal or starve.

Oh, and there’s a scene where Crowley is so upset, his entire body starts smoking in the middle of the street, which is evocative of meltdowns in such a visceral way!