I'm so obsessed with the color symbolism in this teaser--
The color contrasts are representative of their personalities. Warm tones; orange for Till's energetic and rebellious spirit, the intense atmosphere serves to make Till appear anxious and tense, but Luka looks perfectly relaxed.. Cool tones; purple for Luka's mysterious and pompous nature.
I wonder if this means there will be changes in tone during their duet to represent their personalities, I think round 7 will be a sort of character study for them. and Till specifically.
Last round, Till was dressed in something neat, but since he's seemingly back in his funk--and I'm glad he's breaking the black and white motif for a more reclaiming, personal style, red and green (those two colors being matched together is like a traffic light, a warning...coughs). I believe Till got his bite back, he was never "tamed" to begin with, beaten down? yes. It's shown even here that he's on edge, and this is the most emotionally expressive he's been for a while.
(and something tells me he'll be handling an instrument again, just because of the headpiece. then he can smash it on Luka)
Another thing is his collar, it's reminiscent of the attachable ones he used to wear, like in round 1, something about him needing his leash again,,,
Because of this, I'm wondering if the Orange lighting is also symbolic of his danger to others, what is he like right now after round 6? (mentally, he's fucked I'm sure.) What if it's dangerous because Till will remind Luka of HyunA. (And if he does what HyunA couldn't...)
The quote "Never come back again" could have many different meanings when applied to Till, I think about the times he survived his rounds despite the odds almost being against him and being high risk; it's really concerning if he would be able to bounce back again this time.
And it's more of a personal thing when you think about the fact that after this, Till can only get worse if there is no intervention and he survives again, he'll never be the man he was before after he's lost everything and everyone.
I would die seeing Till's themes of regret in round 7 after losing all the family he's known and ultimately being alone
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the tag “he’s not having sex!!” is killing me im trying so hard to keep it together in this coffee shop rn trying not to cackle
also yeah dabi probably considered the time that you helped him take a fully clothed shower (because he wasnt comfortable at the moment even if he was by himself to be naked) to be third base. maybe even a home run idk
LMAOOO okay okay, not to get on a serious note, but your shower bit 🥺 i genuinely think dabi would be so, so fun for friends to lovers. because a totally platonic relationship with him must be hilarious; this man is a smart ass, okay? he will always have you cracking up. and i think if he views you as just some acquaintance of his, he's more prone to like. just chatting with you or shooting the shit or drinking or walking around at all hours of the night when neither of you can sleep. it's not until things start to get a little...softer, i think, that he pulls back—but that's what makes it so good !
because it could come out of nowhere, for either of you. one minute you're sharing a bottle in a brown paper bag under the bright city lights, talking shit about pro heroes, and the next—
"fuck, i'm freezing." you laugh as you say it, but your teeth won't stop chattering and your legs are starting to feel like they're made of lead. you have to come to a stop, leaning against some abandoned shop in this lesser part of town.
"should'a dressed right," dabi murmurs, having the audacity to tell you such a thing even though he's in pants with holes in the knees, without a jacket. already he sounds like he's sobering up, but you suppose he can't help it; his metabolism probably eats through everything.
"can't all be so h-hot-blooded."
tired, his mouth stretches in a lazy smirk, and he rolls his eyes like you're being dramatic—despite the fact that it's snowing. "ain't that bad."
you beg to differ. "feel my hands!"
he watches you carefully as you offer them, like he's putting too much thought into it, suddenly. it's not often that you two really touch, not if he can help it, because there's never been a need. not before now.
the facade of his nonchalance is readjusted, though there's a tension lining his mouth that you've never seen on him, not with you. he tucks the bag underneath his armpit so that he can use both his hands, and then he folds your fingers down into fists and covers them with his own.
entirely, the long and rough expanse of his palms dwarfing you. it's hot, immediately, and the sensation has you shuddering in relief, letting out a grateful little sound as your body sways closer to his on instinct. neither of you say anything, and you're too tipsy too notice the grit of his jaw or the bob of his adam's apple.
been a long time since he touched someone, just 'cause. with the intention of helping instead of harming.
you don't care, only let out another teeth chattering whine before pressing your cheek into the back of his hand. yours is icy, but his own heat at the sight of you nuzzling into him like a fucking kitten.
it's weird, but only lasts for a moment before you're pulling away and turning to wobble down the sidewalk, back in the direction of the hideout. you almost slip once and the screech you let out is enough to make you both laugh, for now—but neither of you will be able to sleep tonight without thinking about it, his skin against yours.
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