The Boys is a wild ride based on some comic book. In a world where superheroes get worshipped, a group of vigilantes tries to reveal dark secrets behind these so-called perfect heroes. Led by charming Billy Butcher, they battle corrupt Supes. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, but with more explosions and fewer insurance claims.

Meet the characters from The Boys

Billy Butcher

Billy is the kind of gruff, vengeful British bloke who chews scenery and bad decisions with equal fervor. He’s all snarls, scheming, and loyalty to a ragtag few — and yet somehow very sentimental about small things (tea, socks? I can’t remember, but it’s oddly specific). He swears like a sailor, carries a map of grudges in his brain, and will happily ruin your day if you’re on the wrong side of his list. He can be charming in a roguish way even while being unapologetically ruthless; also occasionally suspiciously tender, which makes him maddeningly human.

Hughie Campbell

Hughie is the adorably awkward everyman who gets dragged into chaos and tries to be a good person through it all. He’s soft-spoken, a little flustered, carries an unlucky-pants energy, and definitely would apologize to a lamppost if he bumped into it. Don’t let that fool you — he grows teeth in conflict and surprises people when pushed, like quietly dangerous in a gentle way (yes, that’s a thing). He keeps receipts, collects weird little mementos, and has a sudden habit of making terrible dad jokes when nervous.

Homelander

Homelander is the terrifying golden idol of charisma and absolute unchecked power — glitzy smile, pose, and then… nightmare. He gives interviews and wrings hearts like he’s trimming hedges, obsessed with adoration and very bad at empathy (kind of allergic to it, actually). There’s this eerie childlike need for approval under all that costume pomp — and also a sociopathic streak that makes him unpredictably awful. He sings when he’s alone sometimes? Or hums? I could be making that up but imagine him humming.

Annie January

Annie (Starlight) radiates squeaky-clean optimism until life smacks her in the face and she refuses to stop being kind — which is the best and hardest thing about her. She’s genuinely idealistic, painfully honest, and learns to channel hurt into real steeliness; cries at cheesy commercials, tough in a fight, and has a habit of doing the exact wrong thing socially (but with the sincerest intentions). She balances naive brightness with surprising backbone, and yes she still likes sparkly things even after everything. Tiny contradictory thing: she can be both sugar-and-light and a low-key emotional wreck in the same breath.

Queen Maeve

Maeve is the burnt-out powerhouse who looks like a legend and acts like she’s been betrayed by the script of her life. She’s sarcastic, tired, secretly soft for a few people, and would absolutely drop everything to protect someone she cares about — but then roll her eyes about it afterwards. There’s a world-weariness to her humor; she quotes old movies under her breath, drinks like it’s a hobby some nights, and is quietly heroic in a very fatalistic way. Also probably owns the best leather jacket in any universe.

A-Train

A-Train is speed incarnate — flashy, jittery, always chasing the next high of attention or adrenaline. He’s insecure under the spotlight, obsessed with records and sneakers and being the fastest guy in the room (which he used to be, then complicated stuff happened). He blusters, brags, and then panics in slow motion, which makes him oddly relatable? Loves a mixtape and maybe collects neon watches; very loud, very human, and kind of tragic if you look too long.

The Deep

The Deep is equal parts awkward romantic and ridiculous superhero side act — obsessed with all things nautical and somehow tragically sincere about it. He tries to be profound about the ocean and then ends up saying something painfully stupid, apologizes in a soliloquy, and expects applause. He has an absurdly specific sea-life opinion (sea turtles are underrated, fight me) and an ego that’s both inflated and pathetically deflating in one breath. Honestly both funny and cringeworthy, and sometimes you feel sorry for the little man in the wet suit.

Frenchie

Frenchie is pure delightful chaos with a heart the size of a grenade; he’ll fix your gun, your bike, and possibly your emotional trauma with equal expertise. He’s infinitely inventive, speaks a thousand languages and several made-up ones, has kitchen skills that should be illegal, and an unpredictable bag of tricks (and maybe scarves). Ferocious protector — gentle with cats and explosives — and makes everyone feel safe in the most startling ways. Also collects weirdly specific buttons and has an allergy to bad people.

Mother’s Milk

Mother’s Milk is the stoic, hyper-organized backbone of the crew — you know the person who has labels and an agenda and will quietly make sure you don’t die. He’s responsible, principled, and strangely domestic (loves lists, remembers birthdays, probably has a spreadsheet for snacks). But he’s also a fighter with a moral code so solid it hurts; there’s warmth under the stern face and dad-joke energy that sneaks out at the worst times. He hates chaos but tolerates it for the people he loves — and will judge your life choices politely and then fix them.

Kimiko Miyashiro

Kimiko is the silent storm — mostly mute, endlessly fierce, and somehow both terrifying and tender at once. She communicates with looks, claws, and the occasional pointed stare, and when she chooses to protect someone it’s with the kind of ferocity that becomes legend (also, she loves junk food? or maybe sushi, I’m splitting hairs here). She’s learned to be more human in small, shy ways — giving soft head-tilts, stealing tiny comforts — even while being an absolute wrecking ball in a fight. Mysterious, adorable, lethal; pet her and you might lose an arm, but she’ll probably bring you flowers afterward.

Black Noir

Black Noir is the literal walking enigma — silent, masked, and moves like a shadow with a very specific agenda. He’s all about the presence: when he appears, things get weirdly serious, and nobody quite knows what he’s thinking (including me, I’ve made several guesses). Lethal, inscrutable, and somehow meme-worthy in the way he’s both terrifying and oddly cinematic; also might be into obscure snacks or have a weird bathroom ritual, who knows. He does his thing, disappears, and the legend grows — which is exactly how he likes it.