About “Harley Quinn” in a few words:

The Harley Quinn animated TV series follows the story of the infamous villainess as she embarks on a journey of self-discovery and independence. Set in a world where the Joker has been defeated and Gotham’s criminal underworld is in chaos, Harley sets out to prove that she can be a powerful force on her own. Along the way, she forms unlikely alliances with characters such as Poison Ivy and Dr. Psycho, and navigates her way through the challenges of being a criminal mastermind. With a mix of humor, action, and heart, this series is a must-watch for any fan of the DC universe.

Meet the characters from Harley Quinn

Harley Quinn

Oh my god Harley is pure chaos wrapped in a polka-dot jumpsuit and a million tiny feelings — she’s the ex-psychiatrist who decided therapy was boring and hooliganism was more fun, honestly. She swings a giant mallet, does acrobatics like it’s cardio, and will serenade you one minute then explode into glitter the next; also she collects stuffed animals for reasons that make sense only to her. She’s affectionate and vengeful at the same time (a walking contradiction, yes), fiercely loyal to her crew but also has a dramatic streak that could fuel a soap opera. Little weird detail: she claims she’s allergic to daisies but keeps a vase of them because “they look dramatic,” which is such Harley, right?

Poison Ivy

Ivy is literal plant royalty — eco-terrorist with a PhD and a soft spot for ferns, and also terrifying if you forget to water her feelings. She’s calm, witty, and patient but will absolutely turn your sneakers into mulch if you disrespect nature (I would not test her, seriously). There’s this sensual, slow-burn vibe to her — seductive but smart — and she’s surprisingly domestic about houseplants, which she treats like tiny employees. Quirky thing: she claims to talk to trees in Old English sometimes, and also kills succulents inexplicably even though she’s “good with plants,” which is weird but adorable.

Clayface

Clayface is the tragic, dramatic shapeshifter who is equal parts classic Hollywood heartache and gross blob of ooze, honestly I feel for him. He was an actor (or a hundred actors) and still performs daily — will assume faces, accents, moods, you name it — and then get super melancholic about identity and such. He’s kind of moody and theatrical, like “I shall emote!” but also can be a gooey, affectionate friend who keeps tiny hats for no reason. Random: sometimes remembers being twenty different people at once and sometimes forgets his own name, which is both hilarious and sad.

King Shark

King Shark is the giant, snack-loving sweetheart of chaos, equal parts terrifying teeth and the kindest hug you’ll ever reluctantly accept. He eats stuff (food, occasionally buildings? joking), has a childlike enthusiasm for life — and for sandwiches — and will protect his friends like a loyal, slightly slobbery dog. He talks in short, adorable sentences sometimes and then drops a deep, surprisingly poetic line out of nowhere; also insists on singing show tunes in the shower, don’t ask why. Little contradiction: fears deep water sometimes? But also lives in it, so who even knows, he’s a paradox in swim trunks.

Dr. Psycho

Dr. Psycho is tiny, furious, and delightfully unpleasant — the kind of villain who furs up his own feelings with insults and can’t help being obnoxious but clever about it. He’s sharp-minded, misanthropic (especially toward women, sadly), and plots with the precision of a tiny, bitter strategist who keeps a notebook full of complaints. There’s a cartoonish villain vibe but also this weird insecurity that makes him accidentally sympathetic — like he collects miniature teacups and writes poetry in secret, don’t tell. He’ll rant for hours and then suddenly admit he liked a rom-com once, which is so weirdly human.

Kite Man

Kite Man is the lovable underdog whose whole aesthetic is tragic kites and terrible timing, and oh man you can’t help rooting for him. He’s unlucky, romantic, and has the most earnest “I tried” energy; also his catchphrase is ridiculous and he leans into it with full heart. He’s more resilient than he looks — brave at weird times, cowardly at others, always late to the party but brings snacks (sometimes kite-shaped). Little odd thing: he keeps a flight log and a mixtape of songs to fly to, which is either wholesome or slightly psycho, depending on your stance.

Batman

Batman is the broody, intense shadow who peels the night like an orange and prefers to brood on rooftops, also collects gadgets like it’s a weird hobby catalog. He’s the ultimate detective — obsessive, disciplined, deadly efficient — and also feels things very hard but keeps it under a very expensive cowl. He has a strict moral code that he enforces with a very loud scowl, yet somehow has a soft spot for metaphorical orphans and sometimes actual bats (debateable if it’s fondness or practical synergy). Tiny humanizing detail: drinks coffee that’s “black as his soul” but sometimes adds marshmallows when no one’s looking, which is weird and somehow makes sense.

Sy Borgman

Sy is the gruff, mysterious ex-spy type who sounds like he smokes a dictionary and also secretly subscribes to niche tabloids, and I love him. He’s dry, no-nonsense, and has a million dark, vaguely illegal skills but also an odd soft heart for the underdog (and for a certain plant). He’ll drop a cryptic one-liner and then confess to liking romantic comedies, which is the best kind of contradiction. Also, he has weirdly good knowledge of 90s pop culture and a surprising talent for home gardening — not that you’d ever see him tending roses in public.

Commissioner Gordon

Gordon is the weary, principled backbone of the city, the person who keeps things upright while sighing dramatically into his coffee. He’s tired in the best way, moral to his core, and quietly heroic with a lot of practical compromises — the kind of dad who organizes things but also lets Batman break a few rules. He’s organized, skeptical of crazy schemes, and absolutely hates paperwork but does it anyway, which is very relatable. Little slice-of-life detail: does crossword puzzles in a dispatch room and hums old jazz tunes when stressed, which makes him strangely charming.

Frank the Plant

Frank is literally a potted plant with sass and the world’s most sarcastic commentary — he’s Ivy’s roommate and has more personality than the HVAC unit. He’s dry, cynical, slightly creepy in a charming way, and will judge you for your watering schedule while offering surprisingly on-point life advice. He is mostly stationary but somehow participates in conversations like a tiny green oracle, and insists on jazz playlists for photosynthesis (don’t ask how that works). Tiny quirk: he’s named Frank but will sometimes answer to “Mr. Fern” and also once got offended by a succulent, which is exactly the drama I want from a houseplant.