I’ll say it again: If your radical show, movie, book, anything about anti-Blackness and racism has garnered the approval of white people, made itself accessible and easy and fun for white people, chances are it’s not radical and it was not made for Black people.
Travis: I put my hand on the glass. In like a “hey man, it’s gonna be ok” kinda gesture.
Griffin: It actually puts a tentacle up, and puts it on your hand [Travis gasps].
Taako: Dear God, that’s beautiful!
Johann: What in the whole… shit… is even… going on. I’ve been watching this thing, and feeding this thing for almost a year now, and I’ve never heard it… I’ve never heard it like, sing before. And I’ve never seen it have like, a touching gesture with another person like that before. What’s going on?
It had become a habit, somehow for you to rate things Sherlock said on a scale of 1-10 depending on how okay they were to say. Usually, he was stuck below six.
“Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring.”
“Three.” You stated, not looking up from your phone.
Sherlock sent you an apologetic shrug.
“For the sake of law and order I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship.”
“Two!” You blurted, a little shocked yourself.
“You know, (Y/n), sometimes I do wonder how this funny little scale of yours works.” Sherlock commented one day while he sat flipping through some papers.
“Oh?” You asked, focused more on John’s blog which you were scrolling through than the current conversation.
“Yes.” He threw the papers aside, his full attention now resting on you. “For example, some things get a look of shock from most people but you only give me a six.”
“Well, like what?”
“Well,” Sherlock stood up, “Say I said, ‘Oh this murder is impressive! Beautiful! Gorgeous!’ What would you rate that?”
You laughed, closing your laptop, “Five.”
Sherlock’s eyebrow twitched, a smirk appearing on his lips.
“You aren’t as boring as I first thought.” He said, giving you an expectant sideways look.
“I’ve even started to enjoy having you around.” Sherlock, strode towards you, slowly.
“Nine…” You said, a little bit confused.
“You might even say,” He said, standing over you, “That I’ve become attached to you.”
You didn’t say anything, just stared up at this strange, strange man.
“I’m going to need a rating.” Sherlock said with a smirk.
He leaned down, taking your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was fast and confusing, but it was heat and fire and electricity. It felt right, strangely, like there was no where else that conversation could have gone.
Sherlock pulled away from you, staring at you with his head tilted, pondering.
“Twelve.” You stated and a grin burst onto Sherlock’s features.
“Oh good, that’s reassuring.”
“Oh I bet.” So you leaned up and kissed him again, your smile melting into his.
HC: Otabek is secretly the founding father of Yuri's Angels. He set up a fan page after first meeting Yuri when he was like 12 without realising how big it would become and then watched as it was taken over by hoards of fangirls over the years. All the Angels regard the mysterious 'girl' who started the fandom as their leader but nobody knows 'her' true identity. Now whenever Yuri is ambushed by screaming fans Otabek just sweats nervously and thinks 'Dear God, what have I created?'
lmao the whole yuri’s angels fanclub would implode if they ever found out it was otabek behind this