Anonymous asked:

I think that this blog is a good example of the tumblr communities way of generalizing everything. the title of this blog is misleading, I don't know why the internet instantly assumes that every single straight white boy lives up to being a "patriarch". I bet you use tinder and are part of the problem

straightwhiteboyproblems answered:

a wild reddit user appeared





I don’t know how I missed John’s worried, guilty and pained expression in this scene when he realises that he’s made a huge mistake writing about Sherlock’s lack of general knowledge in his blog, because it’s resulted in Sherlock being the butt of leg pulling even more than usual and it physically hurts. 

…and when the office bursts into derisive and snide grins John does his best to silence them by shaking his head at them, and you can actually SEE him beating himself up inwardly about it, because this genial, mind-blowingly intelligent detective is far more sensitive than anyone could possibly imagine and that it has been years of taunts and cruelties like these that have turned this perfect face into a wall of impeccable silence and emotionlessness, while John has destroyed all that and more by a few inadvertently placed words on a blog he believed nobody read. In the short time that they’ve known one another, John has come to understand the vulnerability hiding behind the facade - one that Sherlock must have hoped John would not reveal to others; however, he feels as if he’s failed him. He’s allowed the world to enter their little domestic settlement close enough to poke fun at Sherlock, for no fault of his own, beyond that John couldn’t keep his own mouth [fingers] from blabbing. His jaw clenches and head shakes as he feels Sherlock’s pain and confusion. He hurts because despite being the brave soldier that he is, the one person who needs his strength is also the one who he so thoughtlessly let down. He hurts because Sherlock hurts. And what hurts far more is the fact that he is the reason why Sherlock hurts.

I’ve always loved this scene for that very reason. Also because it mirrors the scene in The Blind Banker where they’re talking to Sebastian, and John laughs when Seb says everyone hated Sherlock. They weren’t close enough yet in TBB for John to be understanding, to know what being a social outcast does to Sherlock. He was unkind to him in TBB, siding against him, really. 

Here they are again, with people making fun of Sherlock, and John could easily laugh with them. But he doesn’t. Because by this point, he would side with absolutely no one against Sherlock. He and Sherlock ARE the side. Together. They are the unit now. And John feels horrible that he’s broken that, however inadvertently. 

Thank you for this post. This never, never, never gets addressed…


A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.

Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)

When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.

Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.

Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.

Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.

Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.

'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via albinwonderland)