Umbrella Academy is a superhero show based on a comic by Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá. It tells a tale of a messed-up family of adopted siblings with cool powers. They come together after their billionaire dad kicks the bucket. Now, they must solve dad’s death and stop an apocalypse. All while juggling their own issues and family drama. The writing is sharp, characters are fun and the humor is dark.

Meet the members from The Umbrella Academy

Luther Hargreeves

Luther is the big, hulking “leader” type — literally built like a brick wall and somehow still awkward about hugs, which is adorable and tragic at once. He tries to be stoic and reliable and mostly succeeds, except when his feelings spill out like a malfunctioning pressure valve (yes, he cries during cartoons, don’t @ me). Protective to a fault, he’ll throw himself into danger for his siblings and then feel guilty about having to be strong, which he denies but you can see it in the way he straightens a picture frame. Also, random detail: he definitely owns one suspiciously pristine sweatshirt that he refuses to throw away, probably from a mission?

Diego Hargreeves

Diego is sharp, kinetic, and a walking, snarky action scene — the guy you want beside you in a knife fight and the one who will roll his eyes at your plans and then save your life. He’s got this moral streak that makes him pick fights with the universe (and authority figures) and he can be impossibly loyal even when he insists he’s not, which is infuriatingly sincere. Moody but principled, he acts cool but collects weird stickers or patches in secret, I swear he has a sticker of a taco somewhere. Also, he hates being underestimated and will prove you wrong in theatrical fashion, often with dramatic hair-flipping.

Allison Hargreeves

Allison is glamorous on the surface — the voice, the clothes, the confidence — and then, layered under that, a complicated knot of guilt, performance, and a deep need to be loved. Her power (you know the phrase — “I heard a rumor…” yeah that one) is both seductive and terrifying; she can rewrite a moment with a whisper, which she uses like a scalpel while trying not to cut herself open in the process. She flips between coachy, sometimes offhand advice-giver and someone who suddenly freezes because regret is loud in her head, and her laugh is often a little too practiced, but sometimes it’s real and it lights up a room. Quirky aside: she hoards recipe cards and remembers celebrity gossip from twenty years ago like it’s national history — useful? not always.

Klaus Hargreeves

Klaus is chaotic glitter wrapped in a severely damaged soul, the family ghost-whisperer who will dance, flirt, and then talk to a dead guy about taxes like it’s normal (because, to him, it sort of is). He’s wildly unpredictable — hilarious and performative one minute, lucid and heart-wrenching the next — and his empathy is enormous and messy; he wants everyone to be okay and also does not want to be alone, which he masks with bravado and a ridiculous wardrobe. He’s into unexpected things: soap operas, stuffed animals, syrup on random snacks — and sometimes he insists he’s completely sober and then tells a story that suggests otherwise. There’s almost always a song in his head, even if it’s a weird jingle about planets.

Number Five

Five is the tiny lethal time-traveling corpse of a man who has the soul of an old man and the impatience of a stopped clock; curt, brilliant, perpetually late for being early (if that makes sense). He’s all sarcasm and strategy, counting moves like chess pieces, but he has an odd soft-spot for routine rituals — a pocket watch, a precise coffee ritual, a notebook full of furious tiny handwriting — which feels so un-mysterious and human and that’s his trick. He claims not to care about anyone’s feelings and will absolutely arrange your life to save it while pretending it was for efficiency’s sake, and yes he is both exhausted and annoyingly competent. Also, he probably keeps a spreadsheet of the apocalypse scenarios and annotates them in red pen.

Vanya Hargreeves

Vanya is quiet on the surface but like a sealed storm — a violin in the room, very precise, painfully honest, and carrying a power that is both beautiful and devastating (so, you know, no pressure). She’s often the outsider, watching people from the edges and trying to fold into a family that didn’t quite make room for her, which makes her alternatingly gentle, bitter, serene, and terrifying all within the space of a conversation. There’s this fragile elegance about her — she’ll make tea with obsessive care and then punch a hole in reality if pushed, so be polite, please. Little weird detail: she loves daisies and mismatched socks and will absolutely scold you for using too much sugar in your coffee.

Ben Hargreeves

Ben is the quiet, sardonic ghost-sibling who shows up when you least expect him and somehow makes everything calmer, like a soft exhale after chaos — he’s tender, dryly funny, and oddly comforting for someone who is dead. His presence is more steady than loud; he’s the sibling you call when you need a mirror and a slightly annoyed pep talk, and he’s always on your side, often with a one-liner. there’s a melancholy thing about him, of course, but also this goofy love of terrible movies and collecting sea glass or tiny trinkets, as if he’s cataloging the small beautiful things that remain. Also, he swears he remembers the smell of his old high school locker, which may or may not be accurate.