#thats just how youngest siblings are (i am youngest sibling can confirm)

[azureblooet]

There wasn't anything wrong with Phos they just had that youngest sibling sparkle.

[darkdemeter]

Hi idk if I sent this request your way,if so feel feee to ignore it.

But could you write a death x reader but the reader is an oldest sibling too? Maybe their (3) younger siblings are in Haven with the makers while their big sibling travels with death for supplies.

I was thinking that the reader could be a foil to death,they have an excelent relationshipp with their siblings, their younger siblings always try to act all tough when Deaths around to "make sure he doesnt hurt their big sibling"(its harmless though).

And ive always hc Strife being the second oldest,and its clear him and death "hate" eachother(or at least dont get along). So maybe the reader has more affinity with the sibling that follows them in the birth order.

Maybe during their travels the reader swaps "sibling advice" with Death(more Like they talk and he listens. I dont think he'd Open up much about his relationship with his siblings). I think the reader would be like "talk to them like adults,dont underestimate them,sometimes you gotta accept they need to get hurt to learn a lesson" that kind of stuff.

And I think the reader would also share how it kind of felt like their childhood was taken away from them and replaced with the duty to take care of their siblings (and that they would still accept taking care of them,they just wished they had more time to experience their childhood). just sharing those kinds of stories to Bond with Death.

Maybe after the supply run they return and Death watches from afar as the reader and their siblings are just chaotic forces of nature and play around and give the makers a stress ulcer lmao. Maybe he gets a little sentimental and hey maybe he puts the reader's advice to the test (with strife or with any of his siblings really)

Also,one more bit of info: Death has confirmed hes the eldest but thats about it, And the reader's siblings are all close in age to the reader,just a 4-5 year gap. (I imagine the reader being in their 20s)

(Pd: I wanted to request this since its heavily based some Real life experiences of mine as an older sibling! And the idea has been going around in my head like a DVD screensaver.)

As always take your time! Your writing's amazing!!!! Have a nice day!!!

THE BONDS BETWEEN KIN

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE Death x GN Reader

NOTES ↳ Firstly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JER!! Wishing you the best day and I hope this makes for a well waited gift! 🎉 I agree so much with the hc that Strife is the second oldest (or that he and Fury have this sort of opposite twin energy?) Writing this was actually a unique go because *LORE DROP! Demeter here, I am the youngest of my siblings. WARNINGS❕ ↳ a mixed concoction of fluff and angst — some profanity — Death is a bit grumpy at the start — we got a wholesome ending! — I think that’s it?

✎ 4.9k ────────────────────────

Everything moves together in sync with each other. Hammers and mallets pound posts and pieces into place, platforms rise and lower at the controlled helm of a steady rope. Crafts are honed and day by day a further stretch of home is made. Humans engage and tidy and work, doing what they must and can for each other; for survival. And that’s what you must do with the pale rider.

He stands idle by Haven’s entrance like an outcast, back set against the old and creaking oak that overlooks a jungle of branching pathways. To those around Haven, he is walking trouble; he is Death after all. So when nobody goes out of their way to greet him or offer him a piece of hospitality, he returns the favour by not batting an eye their way. Most of them keep away. Most of them shrink away in fear of him.

Most… 

The flicker of burning amber slims finely into a narrowed glare as he watches you from that darkened corner of Haven. His hands tense against the cold skin of his arms that are squarely crossed over his chest, huffing and tsking his tongue to himself as he waits for you. 

Things haven’t been the same for any of you since the apocalypse, so you do what you must for what remains of your family, keeping them safe and well supplied. You can’t bear to see them go hungry or cold, you can never settle with the heartbreaking thought of them going without a place to lay down their heads out of risk of being compromised. You never could, now that you think of it. 

They understand why you must go, you’re one of the stronger and healthier humans who can hold themselves well enough in a fight or two. It still didn’t make the going away part any easier. Not since your parents died. 

“Alright, I’m off.” Your announcement only bears furrowed brows and sunken frowns. They fear that this time you won’t come back. 

“Do you really have to go?” Your youngest sibling cannot hide the slight tremble in their voice. Despite their old enough age to know how this new world works around them, therein lies the terrible and voided feeling of abandonment. 

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

You know Death has this habit of watching you, you feel it even now, the way his piercing eyes bear a weight that almost forces your body to be pushed forward. You notice it too whenever you’re with your siblings, silent and watchful of how you play and mess around, how you coddle them like newborns whenever they’re in fear and how attentive you are to their wounds, troubles and failings. Not so much like him. With his siblings, he is coarse and ruthless, very rarely shedding that toughened exterior to be kinder. It’s how he was raised to be. And so, it’s only natural for him to continue to be that way. 

In comparison, you hold your ground when scolding your siblings when they do something wrong or dangerous, but nevertheless you temper your strict lectures with a level of care and love. You tell them to not go outside after dark because it’s dangerous and you don’t want them getting hurt. You correct them if their sense of play converts into discord. You don’t spit venomous judgment and tell them how it must be done, you guide and show them how it can be done. You’re a mender of broken things, a leader to lost and hopelessly wandering ones. 

You keep balance within the confines of your family, and Death keeps balance on the outskirts. Out of reach from you. Sometimes he feels like he envies the way you and your siblings get along. But that’s not right, it’s not envy. He can’t explain it, not even to himself. It’s just this insecure feeling that he’s done everything wrong by his brothers, that their so-called brotherhood is naught by an empty shell of petty lies, spite and disagreeable alliance. 

And Strife… he scoffs to himself at the mere thought and pictured recollection of that sibling. He thought Fury’s relationship with him and their brothers was a demon stirred nest. His estranged kinship with Strife was an entire beast all its own. The two of them always butt heads, caught in a state of arguing with no hope of a middle ground, even when there are options. The two can never seem to be on the same page. 

It’s one of the many sad reasons he admits is why he seeks solitude rather than the companionship of his kin; the very and actual last of his kind. 

Sighing, he pushes himself off the tree’s wall and stares sharply in your direction. There you are, still attending your younger ones with gracious and overbearing care. You spoil them with lavish affection, grabbing each one and embracing them tightly and peppering them with a treasure trove of kisses that they can miss you by. 

The youngest is given a tad more than the others. The baby of your little clan, much like War is of his own. 

Death stalks over with a harrowing crunch under each step, it’s noticeable like a literal announcement that the reaper has come for your soul. An ice cold chill runs down your spine and pricks along your skin with goosebumps.

Each of your siblings are torn from that tight and warm embrace you supply them with, a halo that hovers over them all protectively, and they each visibly tense up. If he didn’t find your stern eyes in that moment, he would have questioned why they all puffed up like a murder of fat crows. But he bites his tongue, he bites down the passionate stir of sarcastic aggression. 

“Are you finished?” he questions instead. His tone has a harsher bite to it then he cared to let on. 

“Yeah, just… give me a second.” It’s a second more you ask for. Surely the reaper can spare you that. He rolls his eyes, a fiery haze lacking direct and knowing pupils that flow about in the carved out sockets of his mask like wild fireflies. 

Knowingly, you direct your gaze to your siblings. You see through their toughened charade easily because you know them — each of them an open chapter within a book. They mean to hide their worries and carry on as if your going away doesn’t leave them haunting around Haven as ghosts that float anxiously until you inevitably return. As if something to prove to Death, they hold their heads a little higher and furrow their brows a bit harder with determination. 

“We’ll get to work on those tasks for you,” says your middle sibling, the youngest nodding in agreement. You huff quietly to yourself. “Alright. Take care of them now. Stay out of trouble and be sure to help out the Makers when they need it. I mean it.”

The rise of your brows makes it fundamentally clear that you will not hear another tale of your siblings running amuck rather than helping the Makers. 

“I’ll keep them in check for you,” assures your second oldest sibling. 

Your nearance in age makes it easy for you both to converse often and come together for the better. That’s what Death has come to understand. You pat their shoulder with a smile, proudly fond of their commitment to ensure things run smoothly in your absence. 

You turn to Death, daring to meet the soul-shuddering cold of his gaze and gruffly, he saunters off with you not far behind. A chorus of voices familiar call after you in bidding you goodbyes and reminders to stay safe. 

Out of all the survivors in your little enclave, you’re really the only one that embraces Death’s skulking presence, his quiet and brooding nature that leaves him on the looming outskirts as he remains watchful and vigilant. His trips are usually short and few in between his other priorities, to what accomplishments you have little idea, but your company is at least familiar to him. Still, you can be subjected to the brutality of his cold shoulder. 

“So what has your scythes in a twist this time?” you ask, your eyes highly observant of your surroundings. He only grumbles in response. The voided silence is only occasionally disturbed by a drawled caw that circles from above, Dust languidly surfing through the air. 

“I’d wage a penny for your thoughts, but you don’t strike me as the gambling type.” He’s scouring some corner of the area, sifting through a bundle of half splintered and damaged crates in search of supplies. 

Years ago, this exact spot was a graveyard of a small and docile park, smothered ankle-deep in ash and decay. Now, the trickling resurgence of growth sprouts freshly, the sunlight dances in soft haloing rays through the crackling rubble. Flowers are beginning to bloom. Much like Humanity in a way, the world itself is slowly finding its footing again in this changed world.

You wander over to him after dragging a sorted amount of supplies that you already found. The sun would be setting soon and it was best to remain close in numbers. 

“C’mon,” you chide with a wistful breath of air and you join him at his side. “I know that burdened look when I see it. Out with it, Horseman.”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Your lips purse sharply, brow slightly raised higher than the other, a pure visage of ‘Oh really’ on your face. 

He continues to ignore the idea of looking at you and instead focuses his search on the crates before him. A Horseman reduced to a lower task, he’s almost brought into the far past of his youthful days, a time where he saw worlds conquered and thousands slaughtered. 

However, he only had himself to blame for offering to go with you, noting how despite your skills, you wouldn’t last out here by yourself. Not without him. 

Shaking his head with a short tut jabbing in his throat that pulls tight on his vocal cords, he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes. You walk forward until you situate yourself against a fallen structure, half sitting on it and cross your arms. It’s not too long after that Death’s feathery companion lands beside you with a throaty warble, bristling his feathers into a puff.

He cranes his neck and the flaming core of his stare meets yours, intentionally ignoring the lazy bird that chirps a velvety purr while you absently pet a finger along his back. He sees that same look you give your siblings when you’ve caught them in a lie. 

The amount of times he’s given Strife that same pressing look and still, he never yields any similar results that you do. 

Death sighs to the wind that carries it up in the air to be discarded and forgotten much like his many attempts to reconcile and temper his brothers. Every turn had been for nothing in the end. 

“Your siblings giving you trouble, Death?”

You sound sincere and it almost visibly shakes him. So genuine in your knowing, in your concerned question. His chin falls with a steep incline that you read as an affirmative nod. Yes, you know just which brother in particular that Death’s mind is tormented by, leaving him bitter and lonesome. 

“My younger siblings do things that drive me crazy at times. There’s times where we fight, there are days where it’s hard to juggle the roles. I want to give them a promising world yet I have to also be realistic. I always let them know that my intentions for them are sincere. That I want what is best and most safe for them.”

Death is silent. He can hear the inaudible but…

“But… there are times where I have to stand on the sidelines and let them do their thing. I have to watch them fall so I know they can get back up on their own feet. Because when I’m not around, I want to know they’re going to be okay without me.”

“And yet you coddle them to no end,” he remarks. You hear the rasped judgment in his tone and you chuckle to suppress the thin layer of tears coating your eyes. 

“I do,” you admit with a nod, “I do, yes. What I’m trying to say is that it’s not easy being the oldest, okay? I know what it’s like. All the responsibility shoved on the shoulders, made to be the lookout, the judge, jury and executioner. To be gentle yet stern and understand when and what was necessary.”

Death stands to his full height after he moves a few crates aside, possibly littered with some supplies you can take back to Haven. 

“I have noticed… you treat them more like soldiers than anything. Especially Strife.”

“I do not—”

Your lashes beat fast at the sudden defense he fronts and he catches himself, eyes thinning into a glare. Either way, you know you have him there. And he knows it too. He joins you, leaning against the structure while crossing his arms and undoubtedly scowling under his mask.

“You try to hold them back from their capabilities and mold them into compliance. More than anything after everything that’s happened, they need a brother. I think you’ll find that if you talk to them, really talk to them, that you can find common ground. A stable union.”

He turns his head in your direction but doesn’t exactly meet you. His raven locks fall over the white contrast of a bone and placid visage, the dimming orange of sun emits a glowing aura around him and the wind gently breathes through his hair. 

He almost looks thoughtful, heavily seated in an internal channel that studies your words like ancient scriptures. 

Perhaps humans did have a shred of intellect. His shoulders jump as a low and gravelly note comes from his throat, it sounds almost like a dry chuckle. It still brings a hopeful smile to your face that he’s found something useful in your advice. 

“How exactly did it all fall on you to look after them?”

It’s a loaded gun more than a question, so heavy with a leaded tale of many days that seemed uncertain and scary. Your body slumps forward a little, lips pulled in to sink your teeth into them. “My parents weren’t around a whole lot, they were kept busy working longer hours each week to bring in enough money. My dad’s job had him travelling a lot anyway and…” You pause, rolling your tongue over your teeth.

“Meanwhile, I was left to look after my siblings. I was the one who made them dinner, got them washed and ready for bed and checked if they brushed their teeth. Some nights the power went out and I’d have the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to make shadow puppets. Kept them from getting scared of the dark.” 

You swallow thickly. “I did… everything I could for my little bear cubs. I’d get into the shittiest of scraps with kids who shoved them around. I’d sneak out of school during lunch period to make sure they were doing alright in their yard.”

It’s a flurry of memories that come back to you. A series of events cataloged into your mind, to remember the good and the bad, how much worse things could have been, but also something else. 

“Do you blame your parents for it?”

Immediately you shake your head. Out of necessity or because you truly don’t blame them. “No. I love those kids with everything I have. However… I paid the price by giving up my own childhood for it. Instead of typical teenage sneak outs or going out on dates, I stayed home on the couch helping the kids with their homework or heating up enough popcorn so we could all huddle up together and watch a movie. I taught myself how to ride a bike so then I could teach them how. I was never really taught by my parents when they were around. They would just vaguely explain it to me, then go about their own thing.”

Instead of a soul shredded and marred into something heinously bitter, you stiffened your upper lip and rolled with the punches. In the forced haste of time that hurried you to grow up, you saddled up with the responsibilities that were your parents, not yours. 

The bottom lids of his eyes flinch, a minute action but heavily betraying his thoughts as you both stare at one another. 

He’s almost… bothered by your story. As though he finds it unfair. 

You shrug with your brows rolling with a lax coil as you shove off that small grief. “But it is what it is. I didn’t get the chance to experience what my childhood could have been. It would have been nice, I would have liked to enjoy it while I had it, but I’d trade it all a hundred times over if it meant they grew up knowing they were loved and appreciated, that everything they did was acknowledged.” 

You have to take a break before the bubbling writhe of tears come undone. Clearing your throat, your fingers pluck the frayed rips in your pants, annoyed at the little imperfections that those rips represent. But then you smile. You remember those fights started on the sidewalk as a bully gave your youngest the roughest shoulder they could muster. You’d knock noses, bust lips and pack bruises if it all meant that your siblings knew you always had their backs. 

Sighing shakily, calmed, you continue, “That’s what being human — and older sibling — is about. You’d give anything for them, to see them safe, see them smile and to see the world at their fingertips.”

“You’ve raised them well. I cannot see any other doing the task better than you have.” Your brows bevel in the center, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Thanks, Death.”

He can take your response any way he likes, but you’re glad that you had someone to unload the burden to. Someone who can in some way relate. You and Death have much in difference but you see many other alignments that match up. Almost two sides of the same coin that flips round and round in constant motion. A never ending cycle, a duty never entirely complete. 

With a glance towards the setting sun, you push yourself up on your two feet, disturbing Dust’s placement that sends him flying to the winds, and you begin to sift through Death’s collected supplies. “Just talk to him like a brother, Death. Because in the end all you have is each other. And when shit hits the fan, you need them on the sidelines of the ring.”

Death hums, a steep sound that reverberates in his chest and rumbles in his throat. He straightens his posture and his eyes follow you closely, watching you with the keen intent of a hawk. And he nods. Not the sort of evasive or dismissive bob of his head, but an actual bow of his chin that then rose up. Your lips grow wide into a grin. 

“Now, shall we get this stuff back to Haven?”

Your name is shouted in burstful happiness, relief trailed in whimpers as your youngest sibling runs to you. The other two keep their pace cool as they approach, aware of the pale rider’s presence next to you while you both unload the cargo of supplies. 

Placing down a crate, you replace its company with that of your eager little bear that engulfs you boldly that it knocks the wind from you a little. You huff out a short laugh. “Hey, I wasn’t that long. I promised I’d be back.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“See that you’re both in one piece,” remarks your middle sibling, earning a soft jabbing elbow to their rib by the other.

“Yes, we’re both alright.” You glance to Death then. “Thanks for helping me out with the supply run. Should do it again sometime.”

Death had found the actual events of going through supplies mundane, funnily enough he thought he would die from how boring it was. No, it was the nature of your little talk that kept his mind occupied. 

“Try not to run out of supplies so soon,” he retorts dryly and you chuckle. “We’ll try but more humans are being found by the day. Maybe we’ll need some extra hands onboard soon enough?”

Death’s lips curl into a slight sneer to what you allude to behind the mere suggestion. His eyes roll far around in his skull and he shoves his shoulders down, releasing the tension from them as he moves swiftly to spin on his heel. 

“Be seeing you around, Horseman,” you coo over your shoulder, your attention becoming a stolen relic by your thieving siblings. 

He stands at Haven’s inviting gateway and stops in his retreating advance. Something compels him to linger in the shadows of the tree’s abode, a place he finds so hostile and uninviting to his very existence, but among it all there’s you. You always offer a greeting nod of your head, a direct line of contact with his eyes as you acknowledge him. Your eyes don’t shakily follow him like he’s a phantom to be watched and feared, you embrace the gloom and grim of his company. 

You won’t admit it anytime soon, but you always have this sense of anticipation. And when he’s not around, you find yourself missing him. 

Death hides in the now blackened corner where he stood earlier that day, his eyes flaring and dimming depending on his concentrated intrigue as he watches you. You and your siblings organise your collected haul into piles. 

“What’s this? What’s this thing do?” 

“You know what that is, you cheeky little thing,” you chuckle as your little siblings begin their cycle of mischief.

“Huh, look at this. It looks just like you.” You gasp at the second oldest, mouth agape that cannot portray anything but that insulted fun. “Oh really?” You quip before you both engage in a small scuffle. 

You become entangled in playful headlocks and knocking the other back with reserved and non-lethal blows. 

Before Death’s eyes, all four of you are causing the type of trouble you had warned them about before you left. Between the mockery of fights, you hold them tight to you and ruffle their hair affectionately. When Ulthane marches over, his eyes bearing the fearsome darkness of a scolding glare, he begins to bark and roar with fuming irate. Your siblings had gotten up to no good, and what you once warned them about, you now indulged in their mischievous plots. 

A small stone Ulthane kept in the back and higher stacked crates to indeed keep mischievous and curious humans out of reach from, was now the prized toy of a game of Maker-in-the-middle. Instead of throwing high given his advantage there, you duck low and keep your throws to the sides. 

Laughter fills the air around you as you play around, getting a little too rambunctious but otherwise it's all an exchange of kinship, a bond strengthened over the years. Death wonders if you allow yourself these luxuries now to make up for your lost childhood, and maybe you did, but it lights a feeling in his chest that it almost swells with an unknown fire. 

By the time he finally moves to take his leave, he lets out a slip of a chuckle, gentle and tenderly adoring. Out of all the humans, Death holds a more softer regard for you. 

Strife doesn’t bother in entertaining his older brother’s arrival, his gaze set on the distant view of Haven from this afar camp that he refers to as The Exiled Point. A fitting title he named in spite of Death and their recent confrontation with each other. 

He doesn’t pay any mind to the thunderous fall of steady footfall moving towards him. Strife is far too engrossed at his post, keeping watch here, no longer hindered by the need to wear the robes of his disguise in order to fit in around the humans. The closest he ever felt to belonging somewhere. 

“Strife.” The gunslinging Nephilim only scoffs with a venomous whistle flowing against his masked tongue. 

“You gonna tell me to pack up and leave again?”

The kinship is strained between them. Ever since that distasteful argument, the two have grown further apart, barely sparing the other so much as a shouldering glance. No hint of remorse, no intent to mend their breaking brotherhood. 

“That’s not why I came up here.”

“Then what is your business here, Brother?”

Death’s head falls slowly forward and his shoulders sag down. He tries to think about how you’d react, what you would do in this situation. What would you do?

“I… wanted to see you.”

Strife cocks his head to the side, body jostling with a sharp and jagged laugh that hints at his still writhing anger. “Well, you’ve seen me! So you should be on your way. I dunno, go and see the humans, go out and protect the balance. After all, what help could I be? I’ll just be a danger to everything.”

Death raises his foot to rest it atop the cut down stump beside Strife, the moonlit winds bellowing the flowing scarves and waisted tabards of the brothers’ armour. Both set their sights to the faint glow of Haven’s lights. A soft beacon in the foggy distance. 

“What I said to you was unfair.”

Strife clicks his tongue that runs over the sharpened tips of his fangs. “Still doesn’t change what you said. You don’t get it, man. When I was down there with the humans, I felt—”

Strife feels his heart rap hard against his chest. Within the blaring glow of flittering gold, tears shimmer. He wanted to yell, he wanted to cuss and roar at Death to mount up and ride away, to never come near him again. He wanted what he had seen the humans have with his own brothers; but he couldn’t.

Death shakes his head, voice sullen. “At the time, I thought I was doing what was necessary. What was safe for the humans. But I see now that I didn’t make the right choice. I treat you like a soldier, I talk to you with scorn and hatred because it’s all I’ve known. But first and foremost, you are my brother, Strife.”

With a loud, bellowing sigh that forcibly drags Strife forward to slump in his posture as he sits on a perched rock, he takes a moment to reflect. It hadn’t been fair at all that day with that fight. 

They were both ready to kill each other if the Makers, War and Fury hadn’t intervened. If you hadn’t stepped in to keep the brothers from ripping each other apart. You didn’t agree with Death’s decision then, after all, you had gotten on well with Jones. With Strife.

But Death was the eldest, the leader of the fabled Horsemen. Who was Strife, the second eldest, to fight and argue? Who was he to disobey an order?

“I’m sorry, Strife.”

It sends a volting freeze through Strife’s entire being, his muscles tense and his unresting spirit freezes. It feels like his heart has stopped beating. 

Not once has Death ever been sorry. The only time he ever expressed a shred of guilt and remorse was for their fallen brethren, for Absalom… 

Strife finally shifts to look to his side, meeting Death’s eyes. A steadfast silence passes between them that slowly begins to mend the wounds of their drifting apart. His golden eyes dart and waver behind the visor, his lips tugged and twisted into confused sneers and parted, forgotten sentences. 

“I cannot take back what I’ve said. I cannot promise to coddle you like a newborn, but I wish for our brotherhood to become stronger. I want the bond between us to become so powerful that it will take more than a mere disagreement to tear us apart. You — and War and Fury — are my kin. Because in the end you three are all I have.”

Both are settled into silence again, listening to the low howl of the wind’s carrying gusto. Their sights retrain their focus on Haven, as if the kindle in which they both knew that was you, brought them together. A far off thank you that you won’t know of until you see them again. 

A small, genuine and high-spirited laughter burns in Strife’s chest, soon joined by Death. 

“So am I still in exile?” 

Death curls his fingers into a tight fist and much like he’d seen between you and your siblings, he punches into Strife’s shoulder. “You never were. You always had a place to belong with us.”

As time goes by in a passing of shaded midnight, moon gliding slowly through the sky, two brothers that watch over Haven become three and then four with Dust finally perching himself comfortably on Death’s shoulder. Each of them embrace the cool winds at their backs, basking in the quiet contentment of their renewed bonds. And all because one human had the answer all along that finally united the four Horsemen not as soldiers, but as a true brotherhood. 

[megashadowdragon]

on references to  greek mythology and buddhism in boku no hero academia along with other mythological references

all for one he has a hades motif  Much like him, no one dares to speak his name, so they only refer to him as euphemisms, (in this case, "All For One" and "Sensei"), he is heavily associated with death, with Midoriya saying that being near him is like being near death and after arrested, he is now staying in a place called Tartarus.

Gigantomachia  a reference To the Giants of greek Mythology. Similar to them he is a gigantic humanoid being and his name is the name given to the battle between the Giants and the Olympian gods

hawks  to icarus

Icarus was a guy who grew cocky despite his father's warnings and flew too high, resulting in his wings burning and him falling to his death. Hawks has wings, seems rather arrogant/brash, and ascended incredibly quickly in the hero rankings.

Hawks is now working with Endeavor who could easily represent the sun, and there's reason to suspect Dabi, another fire user, will be involved in this arc.

There's also that panel of him flying up with a bright light shining behind him, which others have already noted looks like a Icarus reference.

hawk is connected to Icarus. A young, arrogant and talented Teen Genius with large wings. This is lightly alluded to in a shot of him spreading his wings close to a light source,being that Icarus is better known for flying to close to the sun.

He also mentions that his flight is compromised the more feathers he uses, similar to how Icarus died when his when lost too many feathers and he plummeted to his death. Becomes less subtle when he sends his feathers to a grievously injured Endeavor while the latter is fighting High-End, giving him literally flaming wings.

. plus the whole line about hawks going too fast reminds me of icarus going too high  hawks rose to great heights to quickly

hawks also mentions that his flight is compromised the more feathers he uses, similar to how Icarus died when his when lost too many feathers and he plummeted to his death.

lbwings . tumblr . com/post/176325008443/why-this-is-bad

I was worried since Hawks was introduced and pulled his stunt of flying up by the lights; a total Icarus move. The only confirmation I needed on him being screwed is if his wings were RED.

This is bad because I am an old enough US comic book reader to know of a character named Joshua Guthrie codename Icarus. (Marvel) Who lookie lookie- Had big red wings-

Lets just say that things did not go well for Mr.Guthrie. He lost his wings (cut off), his healing ability, was used by a ‘nice talking’ enemy and getting his friends/team slaughtered. All before getting killed himself.

I know how much our lovely BNHA creator loves US comics so I was worried when I remembered Mr.Guthrie.

gabrielashy . tumblr . com/post/176312262468/todoroki-touya-as-a-reference-to-greek-mythology

todoroki touya as a reference to greek mythology

so the most recent leaks for the kanji for touya are 燈矢 - light and arrow.

dabi-todobroki . tumblr . com/post/181189168456/dabi-and-touya-names

“ 

Dabi is written as 荼毘 (だび) which, when plugged into a translator, means cremation. This is the unofficial name of his quirk. However, when separating the kanji’s we get something else. 荼毘 translates to a weed, help, and assist while  だび translates to the name David from religious stories. Completely separate, the kanji’s translate as follows: 荼 (a weed), 毘 (help, assist **this also brings up various religious terms**), だ (means to be or is, but it connects with the terms worthless, male, and safe), and び which literally means beautiful, but has connections to illness.

 Touya’s name is written as 轟 (とどろき) 燈 (とう) 矢 (や). 轟 (Todoroki) is referencing power, roaring, and fame.  燈 (Tou) is defined popularly as light, but also as eternal flame, and a weed called a sun spunge. 矢  (ya) means arrow    Both make several references to weeds and gods/goddesses.  “

 considering horikoshis use of greek mythology in bnha this could be a reference to apollo, god of light, whose main weapon is, you guessed it, the bow and arrow.

apollo, also the god of the sun, drives the sun chariot across the sky everyday - therefore connecting him to hawks/icarus.

the apollo/touya theory could also hint at how old dabi is - he is  the eldest son 

and it may be because he’s fuyumi fraternal twin, who would be artemis in this metaphor. her hair’s even white/silver, which is associated with artemis and moonlight!

finally, interesting to note for those hoping for a dabi redemption arc - apollo is also the god of medicine and healing. fingers crossed!

#like apollo is ALSO the god of plague (see: the iliad) so thats a connection to shigaraki

As for the Artemis is Fuyumi part, from what I remember Artemis is (among other things) a goddess of the moon which only appears during the night the coldest part . of the day 

“ Fuyumi means winter beauty but if broken up differently could be read as "fu - yumi" or Fire Bow. Touya read straight means Lantern/Lamplight Arrow (basically a flaming arrow)”

to quote  @reindeer-games2011

reindeer-games2011 . tumblr . com/post/181818950271/touya-and-fuyumi-can-be-twins

“We’ve already determined that Touya is the oldest son, meaning he’s older than Natsuo and Shouto. In the card, it lists the siblings from oldest to youngest as Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto. We have ages for everyone else, but not Touya? I think we already have his age, he’s 22 (23 now). But he’s listed first in the card? Yes, but he could be Fuyumi’s older twin. An example of this would be the anime Blue Exorcist (Ao No Exorcist). Rin and Yukio Okumura are twins, but Rin calls Yukio his little brother. They’re twins, but Yukio’s the younger twin. The same could apply to Touya and Fuyumi. They’re twins, but Touya was born first.”

Shi Hassaikai as a whole based off of a  subversion of buddhism specifically its Eightfold Path, with Chisaki acting as a Buddha analog. and chisaki and the eight expendables  are a corruption of  the buddha and the eight precepts 

the eight expendables 

They seem to be themed after the Eight Precepts of Buddhism. Rappa's bloodthirstiness is a violation of the first precept, which forbids causing harm and taking lives.  (Subversion: Of the first precept of Buddhism's Eightfold Path, "I will abstain from being harmful to living beings." ) Setsuno, whose Quirk lets him teleport small objects into his hands, violates the second precept, which forbids theft and willfully misplacing items. (Subversion: Of Buddhism's second precept of its Eightfold Path, "I will abstain from stealing", as his Quirk allows him to steal anything. ) Rikiya Katsukame, whose Quirk is touch-activated and makes some creepy comments about Nejire, violates the third precept, which forbids sexual activity.

(subversion  Of Buddhism's seventh precept of its Eightfold Path,"I will abstain from listening or playing music, songs, wearing flowers, jewellery and other ornaments", as his Quirk generates gemstones.) Shin Nemoto, whose uses his Quirk to force people to tell the truth so he can Break Them by Talking, violates the fourth precept, which forbids lies and harmful speech. (Subversion: Of the Fourth Precept of Buddhism's Eightfold Path, "I will abstain from uttering lies"— his Quirk makes it nearly impossible to lie to him. ) Deidoro, the alcoholic, violates the fifth precept, which decrees abstinence from alcohol. (Subversion: Of the fifth Buddhist precept of the Eightfold Path, "I will refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness". ) Tabe, a glutton whose Quirk lets him eat anything, violates the sixth precept, which forbids eating outside the appointed times. (Subversion: Of Buddishm's sixth precept of its eightfold path, "I will abstain from eating after noon time", due to his Extreme Omnivore tendencies. ) Hojo, whose Quirk lets him generate crystals on his body, violates the seventh precept, which forbids wearing luxuries like cosmetics and jewelry. Tengai, whose Quirk generates an impenetrable shield, violates the eighth precept, which forbids resting in luxurious comfort. (Subversion: Of the Eighth Precept of Buddhism's Eightfold Path, "I will refrain from lining or seating on high and luxurious places"— his Quirk create a near-indestructable barrier, somewhere where one can essentially take shelter during harsh circumstances. )

Meti『Not The Bad Guy』 goes into chisaki being a corruption of the buddha in his video the beauty of kai chisaki/overhaul

the guy goes into it chisaki is a corruption of the buddha references and he also brings up the eight expendables reference to eight precepts starting at  9:30 bringing up  things I didnt mention  in relation to their quirkand kanji of their name  then he so just check out the vid for the part about how chisaki is a buddha analogy

ibara shiozaki is a reference to jesus her  being a devout christian  and Quirk is likely a reference to Jesus Christ and the 'crown of thorns' that was placed on his head. she even has a sort of crown of thorns  This is also referenced in her hero name Maria, a reference to the latin name for the the Virgin Mary.

Her birthday is September 8, which is also the birthday of Virgin Mary.

Her Hero Costume consists of a plain white robe, which looks similar to the one worn by Jesus Christ.

and the name of her attacks

Via Dolorosa is the latin reference for the path by which jesus walked on his way to crucifixion.

plus there are her lines  "Passing Judgement" "scheming sinners more religious allusions

and her referring to gevaudan  as the beast of revelation/apocalypse

Theres also uses of Shintoism in MHA like with Ujiko Daruma I talked about Ujiko in my blog here. “Ujiko” is a word used for a shrine shrine parishioner who is protected by the god they worsip in shorts a worshiper in this case it refers to who ujiko worships All for one who is a god. the kanji 子 means child and 氏 means something along the lines of "related” referencing to how he sees the nomu as his children. Daruma refers to how his head looks like a draruma doll, and how daruma dolls are seen as a good luck charms referring to how his sudden appearance to the League caused a shift in Fortune for them.

Apollo was also the god of oracle and prophecy. Hawks were one of the most connected birds to Apollo and were seen as his messenger.

(and as I said before dabi is a reference to apollo and dabi and hawks have a connection due to hawks role of spying on the league of villains) and I think dabi will be the one to be the sun to hawks icarus given dabi being a reference to apollo

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