#i swear I'm normal about him i swear

[the-masked-dork]

Woe art be upon ye

[beargregor]

wait i'm curious, what makes you say that gregor doesn't like everyone else (if i read that post right)? just curious since i've never seen anyone else say that

i don't necessarily think gregor dislikes everyone else at lcb but i do think that gregor is an incredibly petty person that isn't nearly as close to the rest of the sinners and even outright dislikes some of them cough cough rodya cough cough which a lot of people just Refuse to see because he's as much of a doormat as he is. there's several examples i could get into to try and prove my point however i'll just focus on what i personally think to be the biggest ones.

additionally, this is going to be kind of long, so i'm adding a read more. read more! read it. sorry for being so wordy. i have several diseases.

Pt1. gregor is the type to try and get along at least decently with everyone, especially if he gets a good first impression from them.

this is less a point in favor of gregor's distance w/ the rest of the sinners and more just a contributing factor to it. once again there's several examples i could point to here but i think the most in your face one happened in canto I with yuri, as several people have pointed out. even before gregor comes clean about growing attached to her as quickly as he did because she reminds him of his sister, we get this interaction.

i'll go ahead and make the disclaimer now that i don't necessarily think gregor is the most reliable of narrators, especially when it comes to his feelings and interactions with most people, but from the way he acts when the topic of yuri comes up (and the way we still see him act even all the way up to c7, nearly a whole year after yuri's death) i don't see reason to question his sentiment here. gregor immediately got that aya and yuri were close, potentially even taking note of their traded belts, and went out of his way to get something nice for yuri despite hardly knowing her.

i feel like a lot of people have forgotten as much, especially since it's been so long since c1, but gregor actually spent a good bit of season 1 doing the exact same thing with the other sinners! gregor reads a connection between him and ishmael pretty quickly despite getting off to a rocky start

mostly because gregor can tell that ishmael is pretty sardonic in a very similar way to him. there's been multiple instances where ishmael and gregor have essentially expressed the same sentiment at different moments, most notably gregor's little argument after ishmael got shot with a decay ampule in c4

and ishmael's response to pilot talking about self-sacrifice in c5

i could go ahead and pull up more examples, but in general pm has gone out of their way to show us that gregor and ishmael are pretty similar, so it makes sense for gregor to assume that they're friends, right?

this will be pushpin 1. keep note of this for Later.

ishmael's only the first sinner we see gregor trying to do this with in s1, we also see him try it out with heathcliff, sinclair, and ryoushuu

he's tried to get along with charon, being one of very few sinners that we've seen actually try to establish a connection with her at all

even rodya, despite my insistence that gregor doesn't like her nearly as much as the fandom thinks he does

all of these seem pretty fine and dandy, right? sure it frequently leans towards self-degradation, micromanaging, and commiseration, but gregor can at least be pretty chummy with most of the sinners, can't he?

Pt2. hell's chicken was more than just comic relief guys please

i'm fully aware that this is quite the hot take, but i think hell's chicken deserves a lot more credit for character writing than the fandom gives it. hell's chicken gave us foreshadowing for several events, such as the donqui bloodfiend reveal

heathcliff's distortion in c6 (as well as hong lu's highly speculated distortion at some point in the future)

and ryoushuu and sinclair's continued connection by making him the odd one out on her team

which, hey! that implies something about gregor's odd one out, don quixote, too, doesn't it? yes. yes it does. that's pushpin 2. keep note of that for later.

speaking of pushpins, hey! that's pushpin 1!

splitting into teams is one of the major events in hell's chicken, and most of the sinner's choices are either motivated by very little, backhanded, or motivated primarily by not wanting to be on the opposite leader's side. i didn't include all of the picks, just because i feel like including most of them already gets this across, but i think gregor took one major thing from this: most of the sinners, when push comes to shove, will only side with gregor when they refuse to or can't take his opponent's side.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that this is primarily intended to be comedic relief, but when gregor is being described as having his trust broken by ishmael or nearly crying because no one on his team properly sided with him for him, i feel like it's pretty fair to read into this.

something that i think is pretty important to remember in conjunction with this is that we know that gregor is the type to hold a grudge, both from his general attitude towards the G corp soldiers in c1 as well as his continued distaste for vergilius

even beyond the splitting into teams of hell's chicken, the sinners have given gregor plenty of reasons to feel bitter. i feel like this is something people have noticed but haven't really put a finger on, but it's kind of wild just how often the rest of the sinners make gregor the butt of the joke

and sure, we could argue that a fair few of these aren't really made with any ill intent. quite a bit of it could have been meant as harmless teasing, but with gregor being more sensitive than most, it coming from nearly all sides, and as often as it does? yeah, i think he's prone to taking it a bit personally.

Pt3. yes i do still think gregor was the third most important character in canto VII you guys gotta hear me out okay

of course, all of this leads up to the bit of the story i highlighted, doesn't it? c7? i totally get why people haven't really picked up on all the gregor things i did in it, seeing as they were mostly not *directly* said about him or by him.

personally, i think that gregor's distaste for talking about himself on any serious level and thus leading to him getting sort of "sidelined" narratively (which i take issue with that claim, but still. it's effective for getting what i mean across atm) is supposed to lead players to take a deeper look at the times gregor gets held up to other characters and compare and contrast what's being said about them by the matchup. as i showed earlier with his immediate latching onto ishmael, i think this is something gregor himself is at least partially aware of too.

so, that begs the question, who was gregor compared to in canto VII that makes me think it's one of the most critical pieces in understanding his character?

really, i'd like to avoid getting too lost in the analysis of this canto specifically, since i'd like to do a proper post about this later, but i figure i can bury the lede a little before doing it properly.

c7 features several characters being made to perform in sansón's play, acting out the relevant backstory for this segment of the plot. a lot of these characters have rather direct, degrading reasons for playing the roles they do.

outis, a character with an inflated ego who wants her journey to have a purpose, is made to play an aimlessly wandering villager with a single line.

hong lu and ryoushuu, two characters for whom families and the expectations placed upon them are likely going to play a major role, are made to play bloodfiends.

rodya, a character who resents her lot in life and is constantly shown to be eager to leave her destitution behind her and become someone special, is made to play a helpless villager that's too poor to even offer any money to the hero that saves her.

heathcliff, a character that has spent most of his life getting dehumanized by comparing him to beastly animals, is made to play a literal bear whose sole purpose in the plot is to get beat up and then quickly left by the wayside.

sinclair, a character that has two opposed parties essentially treating him as a macguffin to procure for their side, is made to play the character who was arguably the catalyst for this entire canto, not to mention playing a decently major role in ruina.

our star don quixote is made to play her father, the first kindred, but there's someone by their side the entire time, isn't there? don quixote's dear, steadfastly loyal companion. a character which don quixote has tasked themself with getting to come out of their shell?

hello again, pushpin 2.

gregor has been made to play our unreachable star, sancho. someone had to, of course. you can't really tell a story without it's main character, now can you?

now, i should once again give a disclaimer. i am not trying to say that i think adapting what happens to donqui/sancho in c7 to gregor is the road pm is going to take here, not only would that toe a bit past the line of foreshadowing, but it'd also just amount to rehashing that plotline again, which i don't think would make for a particularly exciting story.

what i DO think is that we can take a lot of the things that are said to either directly be the case for sancho and use them to inform how we see gregor.

and god, does playing sancho have some fucking implications for our favorite ossan archetype.

starting off, the earliest moment we get to see of sancho is quite literally her just waiting for death to take her in a pile of ashes.

which, i should remind everyone, is actually pretty damn close to what happens to gregor's literary counterpart at the end of the metamorphosis. gregor samsa experiences one final breaking point that pushes him over the edge and makes him decide to just wait for starvation to take him.

gregor and sancho both consider themselves to no longer be human, something which sancho goes out of her way to highlight repeatedly throughout the canto and gregor is quick to get defensive on her behalf for when outis starts really tearing into her

sancho spends quite a lot of this story denying herself the joys of community and friendship, despite knowing that, even with the rest of the sinners frequently making jokes at her expense and outright insulting her, they were things that she desperately craved.

and, while this is getting into my "outis is a red herring meant to distract us from gregor's eventual betrayal" theorizing, i also think it's worth noting for this discussion that sancho's fellow kindreds, her family, all seem to be under the impression that she dislikes them and ultimately her departure was an act of betrayal

and that, despite gregor being one of LCB's resident mood makers and attempted conflict de-escalators, one of the sinners that's most prone to making appeals to the bonds they've all forged together, only him and faust remained silent during everyone's speech

so yeah, i think there's quite a lot of little details and hints building up to the reveal that gregor's not quite as fond of everyone as he presents himself to be. i do think a lot of this ultimately comes down to gregor getting in the way of his own happiness, similarly to donqui, particularly because he's been frequently portrayed as something of a self fulfilling prophecy, especially by giving him as many christ allegories as they have by way of priest and garden of thorns. gregor is convinced that the rest of the sinners don't like him because he's not convinced anyone could like him, so he convinces himself that he hates them because why should he care if someone that he hates hates him too?

a lot of this ultimately ties back to my personal interpretation of what happens in the metamorphosis as well as my own theories regarding all the times gregor has made weird callbacks and references to lobcorp and ruina, but yeah. i think about this guy and his deeper characterization a fairly normal amount, i think.

to end this off i'll highlight one of my favorite little "gregor is fucking seething and trying so hard to keep it cool" moments, in the credits CG for c7 we see rodya teasing him by drawing a little horse on his window and actively pointing and laughing at it, which gregor really doesn't seem all too pleased about.

i personally think this ties into the other cruel part of sansón forcing gregor to play rocinante, which is the more literal "he's actually just straight up playing rocinante" side of things. gregor was quite literally made to play something less than human, less than even animal really, as he was reduced to nothing more than the shoes don quixote wore as she got to play the leading role. sansón directly makes jokes about gregor being nothing more than shoes in the play twice, which adds to this reading, i think.

this, imo, really plays into the adaptation of the metamorphosis! i've seen a lot of readings for the book that posit that, despite being the protagonist, gregor samsa can't really be considered the main character due to nearly everything he experiences in it being used to further his family's character development at his expense, which i think fits nicely with limbus gregor seemingly having the most said about him through indirect means by holding him up to other characters. also it's rodya carelessly making fun of His Big Major Insecurities™ again like she did in c1 which i always find fun. rodya i love you but god you're the worst.

[winter-turtle]

Spider-Punk: *exists*

Me:

[ge0ky]

chilchuck!!!

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

I could see Sunday being such a hypocrite when it comes to you

He's been trained to see everything, to catch every little flaw in his own appearance in order to appear calm, collected, and perfect, so it's obviously he sees those flaws in others, too

Poor posture, wrinkled clothing, fidgeting or avoiding eye contact, any form of non-eloquent speach... It eats at him, distracts from everything else

He picks up on everything in order to better read the people he's negotiating with, and behind that pleasant expression, there's sharp piercing judgment, indiscriminately sinking its claws into everybody he looks at, with one exception

You, his darling, can do no wrong

Any small oversights he'll just smile happily and fix himself, meticulously combing through your hair with gentle fingers while praising how pretty and soft it is, cupping your face to analyze those pretty eyes when you look nervous with nothing but his own loving worry reflected back, and your amusing little turns of phrase only make you more endearing, he's just so hopelessly smitten

We've seen how he's no stranger to sticking with a belief, even when heavily refuted against, even if it actively goes against his other morals, and you're no different, he'll happily warp his thinking for you

It would simply be impossible for him to see you as anything less than his perfect darling who he adores so thoroughly

[sr-stories]

Cedric the Creature ™

[wickedcriminal]

Last Unicorn quote stuck out to me so I gave it to Spider-Fox

(the only person willing to be your friend and he didn't show up until long after you already lost all trust in other people)

[capquinn]

I can't stop thinking about Quinn tagging along with you to your friend's wedding, like he would be the perfect date.

he wouldn't just be the perfect date — he’d be the freaking blueprint

He’d show up in a perfectly tailored suit that somehow makes him look even more unfairly good-looking than usual, and it’s all you can do not to grab him by the lapels and tell him to forget the wedding — you’re ready to run off and elope right now. He’d be effortlessly charming with your friends, shaking hands and introducing himself with that soft, slightly shy smile he does. The one that’s a little reserved but still manages to melt everyone instantly.

When you’re making the rounds to catch up with old friends, he’d be right behind you, trailing like the most patient, lost puppy, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. He’d grin when someone teases him about being “Mr. Quiet,” completely unfazed, because he’s perfectly happy where he is — just following you, laughing softly at your stories, and chiming in with that dry humour of his when someone asks, “so, what do you do?” But then there’s the way he’d reach out without thinking to subtly adjust your dress strap when it slips or smoothing a warm hand down your back while you chat with people. It’s so effortless, so instinctive, and you’d feel your heart squeeze every time because it’s just so him — thoughtful in all the ways that count.

At dinner, he’d pull out your chair before sitting down himself, and you’d smile at the way he tries to act nonchalant, even as he swaps your plate with his because his slice of cake doesn’t have the fondant he knows you don’t like. The act is even sweeter because you know he doesn’t like fondant either, and you’re about to argue, ready to tell him you can just peel it off, but he shakes his head with a boyish grin and before you can say another word, he leans over to kiss you, soft and quick, cutting off your protest with a quiet, “just take it, babe.”

And the dance floor? At first, he’d be all hesitant, shuffling awkwardly from side to side like he’s trying not to draw attention to himself, which only makes you laugh harder. But after a drink or two, he’d loosen up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin as he finally gives in. And then it’s game over — he’s spinning you under his arm, laughing so hard when he steps on your toes. During the slow songs, he’d pull you close, his hands resting firmly on your waist, his cheek brushing yours, like for those few minutes, it’s just the two of you and nothing else matters.

By the end of the night, when your feet are killing you, he’s carrying your heels in one hand while the other stays wrapped around your hand.

“C’mon,” he’d murmur, keeping you steady as you hobble barefoot toward the Uber.

You’d lean into him, the scent of cologne and a little champagne still clinging to him, and feel nothing but safe and completely adored.

And when you finally collapse into bed, both of you still half-dressed, he’d tug you into his chest and murmur, “that was fun. We should do it again sometime,” like it was just some casual event — not the night you completely fell for him all over again. Because that’s the thing about Quinn: even the simplest moments feel like magic.

[td-art-storage]

Don't touch his baby brother

[wildsaltair]

Security

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (fluff, with a tiny hint of hurt/comfort)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: Very short little fic that I wrote sort of as a follow-up to Nightmare, but it works as a standalone one-shot too. As always, it's written with the fullest measure of my love, and it's representing all the longing y'all get to witness every day on this melodramatic blog. I love Maximus, and I hope this little fic does him justice :) Thank you for reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Your love is asleep beside you, breathing deep and slow against your neck. After yet another day of backbreaking work in the harvest, he’s exhausted, and all he had the strength to do was pull off his tunic and fall into bed beside you.

You are just as tired, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep just yet. You’re too transfixed by him.

In sleep, his face is so peaceful, so free from the worry lines and the intensity he wears through the day. In sleep, his face is relaxed and soft, surrendered to the safety he feels in your bed.

You smile knowing that sharing your bed is his first experience with sleeping so peacefully. He came to you wounded and hunted, having barely escaped an assassination attempt and with nowhere else to go. Though your first few months were fraught with distress and fear, you have both settled into your home with the knowledge that you are safe from the outside world, that his past has been laid to rest and left behind. He still carries his burdens, but they are easier to bear when he can release them at night.

You let your eyes trace over his features now, amazed as always at the sweetness and beauty of the man who holds your heart. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks, the lines beside his eyes less furrowed.

He’s sleeping as he usually does: on his back with your head on his chest, his left arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively, his head tilted against yours. His right hand clasps yours where it rests on his waist, moving gently every time he breathes.

Tilting your head back, you smile to yourself as the sounds of his deep breathing reach your ears. The sound only reassures you that he’s sleeping well, undisturbed by anything.

You often remember his first few nights with you — how after making love, he would lie awake for some time, trying to fall asleep. He was always on guard during those days, always attuned to any sign of trouble. He slept with one eye open for months.

And quite often, you would wake to find him up, making a round through the house or in the yard, paranoid about what could be lurking outside. Many were the nights you had to coax him back to bed, assuring him that no one had come for him in the night.

And the nightmares. Those terrible nightmares that plagued him for months.

Once, he awoke in the middle of choking you, having acted out of terror in the middle of a dream. You were afraid he would never trust himself to sleep with you again, but together you worked through it. He’s had nightmares many times since, but they have grown fewer and tamer in the past few months.

That thought makes you smile as well: knowing that your presence beside him at night helps keep his nightmares at bay.

As if in response, the man turns in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you. He’s still sound asleep, his breath rumbling in his powerful chest, but his right arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to his body.

You are all too happy to snuggle closer to him. The nights have grown colder, and his body is a never-ending source of heat for your bed. You enthusiastically burrow into his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and tangling your legs with his.

Your heart warms knowing that he reaches for you even in his sleep. Many are the nights he has whispered your name in his sleep, groped his hands to find you in the night. Somehow his heart seeks you even when he sleeps.

He pulls you even closer, his breath softening as if he is stirring a little from his sleep, but he does not awaken. Shifting his weight to press against you more fully, he rubs one broad hand up and down your back, fingers brushing your spine.

Without meaning to, you arch your back in response, pushing your body tighter against his. He lowers his chin as though he were awake, dragging his lips across your forehead before coming to rest against the top of your head.

Your smile comes again, unbidden, warm as the heat radiating off his body.

So many nights, you have lain in this very bed and ached with loneliness. How many cold nights you spent huddled under blankets, wishing for a lover to share your home and bed, to fill you with a warmth that would go beyond your body. This man fills every empty spot in your heart, thrills and soothes and pleasures you in every possible way.

And what a joy it is to know that you have done the same for him, that your love is his safety, his delight, and his peace.

With a knot of emotion rising in your throat, you tilt your head back to press the lightest of kisses against his exposed neck. He stirs slightly, his breath ghosting across your ear, and you just rest your lips against his neck to breathe in his scent.

Earth, sweat, and something else distinctly him. It’s a scent you now associate with comfort, companionship, and warmth.

You kiss him again, wanting to touch him somehow even though he’s asleep. His neck is smooth and warm under your lips, and he stirs again, this time shifting his arms closer around you. He tilts his head a bit to the side as if to give you better access.

Then he makes a sound, almost a moan, almost a sleep-muddled whisper, but you know it’s your name. It’s your name he murmurs in his sleep, when he feels your gentle brushes of affection against his skin.

You smile against his neck, resting your mouth there so he won’t awaken. He remains tensed a moment longer, so you lightly run your hands over him to soothe him back to a deep sleep.

His muscles are coiled under your touch, every inch of his body a tribute to softness and strength. His chest moves against yours slowly, and you gently rub your hands over his ribs, his sides, his hips. He finally relaxes, sighing contentedly as he drifts back into a deeper sleep.

Just before he does, though, you feel him lift his hand, stroke it down the back of your head once. His fingers tangle in your hair, and he nuzzles your face gently, brushing his smooth skin and spiky beard against your cheek.

He hums with pleasure, settles himself against your body, then buries his head in your neck and falls back to sleep.

You follow him soon after, cradling him in your arms while you listen to the steady cadence of his breath and the lovely thump of his heartbeat. You thread your fingers in his dark hair until your strength fades into sleep, just long enough to feel him relax completely in your arms.

All the lonely nights, all the sorrow, all the uncertainty — it’s all been worth it for this moment, and for all the moments that have come before and will come after.

Your love is asleep in your arms, whispering your name and holding you close to his chest, and you can both sleep in the peace and satisfaction of a love that transcends everything else.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[maliwan-grace]

All I'm saying, ALL I'M SAYING

Nikto x reader is peak "last night you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me."

"..."

"Do it again."

Also, obviously, hes already ordered you two a joint tombstone, isn't he so romantic?

[stxrysnow]

— like a cornered prey, yet i lick your claws.

contents. dark themes implied (?), sickening love, vampire!suguru, some yan!suguru themes implied.

★ jiah’s notes. idk i'm very normal about him

“hm?” suguru raises a brow, the corner of his lips tilting a little, and if you thought you were jittery, your cheeks were practically burning right now, “what’s wrong, sweetheart? you don’t look so good.”

(you are wrong. everything is wrong, you think.)

“nothing.” oh, you precious lamb. suguru revells in the way you choose to lie. to him, of all people— you really are his precious treasure, aren’t you?

suguru relishes in the way you gulp when he stands up. that little smirk transcends into a full-on grin, brown eyes so intensely fixated on you that you feel invisible hands softly but firmly hold you in place.

there is no escape.

(you know what you were doing.)

(he knows that.)

“you think,” a slender finger dips up your chin, and you find yourself staring back at those binds— eyes — “i don’t notice you starin’, darling?”

you are rather quick to reply. “i’m not.”

(out of wit, or out of nervousness? you tried hard not to think that it was the latter, even though your body language screamed out the truth.)

(a truth which suguru devours whole without so much a second thought.)

“really, now?” he hums, and you gulp again— a shaky breath escaping your parted lips when that little lump in your throat just won’t go away, no matter how much you try to calm yourself.

(he is the reason why it won’t go away.)

“are you sure? ‘cause i don’t think i’ve ever noticed you look so curious about my fangs before,” oh, that bastard knows exactly what he is doing to you. “say. you want to feel them or somethin’, hm?”

(he makes that trepidation in your little lamb mind creep around like a predator—)

(not waiting for a moment to strike, but for a moment of yield; a moment of submission.)

he doesn’t even have to try.

“. . .”

(a pause.)

“use your words, honey,” suguru coos. coos at you, and your mind goes blank again.

“yeah,” you stammer out. “i wanna feel them.”

(got you, suguru thinks.)

large hands wrap around your waist, tugging you oh so impossibly close, his breath so warm against your skin that it made you shiver.

“come feel them, then.”

the moment the pointed tip of his teeth graze your neck, you’re a goner. eyes fluttering close and your body melts in his arms— your heart hammering frantically against your ribs, like a rabbit trying to escape.

(run, rabbit, run, suguru’s hollow heartbeat seemed to say in such a sickeningly sweet taunt that you felt like you were going to throw up.)

“sweet little thing,” suguru croons, “go to sleep.”

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[lilacgaby]

guys dragonking!bakugo x fairy!reader ??

you stumbled far away from your lands, lost as the fog clouds your vision. you travel deeper into the forest, exhausted. your wings ache as you finally let yourself relax in the oddly warm cavern.

as you pass out from exhaustion, dragonking!katsuki eyes you wearily. he was resting by the fire in the cave as he noticed you walking in. he would've stricken you down the second he sensed you but your slight glow and delicate nature stood out from the gruff realities of the harsh creatures of the forest.

he moved closer to you, examining you oddly. he had only heard of fairies from the tales he was told as a young prince, but as he stares at your wings, there's no doubt that they were true.

he pokes your face, touches your wings, and eyes your strange attire.

you were weird, but you were also in his rightful territory. which meant...

you woke up to being moved, more specifically thrown, over dragonking!bakugo's shoulder as he took you back to his kingdom. he didn't notice you were awake, but his traveling partner dragonshifter!kirishima did, sending a sharp-toothed smile your way.

you had a feeling you wouldn't be going home anytime soon.

(follow-up)

my requests are humbly open now so send some in <3

[star-lights-up]

you're gonna be popular ♡

[arkarti]

Art summary 2024

was quite the year. Onwards to 2025 😊 Happy new year!

[swkbiggestdefender]

my opinion on wukong life arc:

made big mistakes and lost his way becoming addicted to immortality bc nothing made him feel secure and satisfied and his ego was on another level

made some mistakes here and there but he actually learned from them and found another path that give him peace witch was what he originally wanted to protect the people he loves (the pilgrims) and the pilgrims were there for him in a way no one else has and that itself kept him focuse on his path

still know how to be gentle and sympathetic but losing the pilgrims made him more close off especially when he first met mk he definitely just wanted to teach him what's necessary and that's it but when mk said he want to be good enough like him he realised that mk was looking for his approval and he wasn't given him that because he didn't think mk put him as someone important in his life so he knew he had to at least stop putting so much distance between them

wanted to deal with everything on his own because he didn't want anyone to get hurt or deal with his problems kept important information for himself because he didn't want to burden anyone or make them freak out because he always dealt with the hard stuff on his own he thought he could do it on his own

Learned that even though he made mistakes in the past it doesn't define who he is now and mk wouldn't give up on him or look deferently at him and he have to let go of those memories and focus on what he have now and what he needs to protect and do

(Season 5 spoilers)

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learned alot from everything they all went through he's more open with mk and everyone else no longer keeps stuff to himself and he try to be there for mk as much as he can he openly show affection now and seems really comfortable with the others still as self-sacrificing as before and will rather lose the world then lose mk or anyone he loves