#I had to read about kit bringing a gun into a room w a toddler in it AND I DID NOT WANT TO

[mossytrashcan]

ready to agree with you ty's autistic representation is Probably Not Going To Get The Celebration And Empowerment We Deserve. ready to either vent about that or just ignore it completely, until tsc is just a tiny insignificant blip in your universe, the modern books at least. if that's what you or me or probably all of us need.

and i hope you're doing okay and absolutely no pressure to answer this ask, but i was curious. a little too curious to see what you think: is it just me or does like 60% of the tlh gang come across as autistic to you? james, christopher, potentially thomas, even maybe anna. like genuinely i don't think any of the whole gaggle (it's a big cast!!) are neurotypical except cordelia. even will and tessa don't exactly give off Neuronormative Vibes. like i know it isn't mentioned, but then again it's also 1903??? (and our current merged conceptualisation of the whole autistic spectrum is only from 2013--hate what that means for tda and likely twp but That Is A Different Rant). anyway to me they're for the most part decent, empowering, anti-ableist for the most part autistic rep. is it just my wishful thinking?

Anna is soooo autistic in my mind, her funky fresh gender, slay tendencies, random snake decor, and overall blunt vibes are so not neurotypical

Idk if I ever got autism vibes from James, but he def has like so many mental illnesses that he could have symptom overlap. Honestly, the whole tlh gang is just super neurodivergent w/ a touch of the tism

I do think it says something about CC’s ability to write autistic characters, too. She could totally pull off Ty flawlessly, she understands autism and neurodivergence very well, but she’s just refusing to??? I think she’s just in her own head about it and doesn’t realize how majorly important her autistic rep is

Also, I fully believe that the sudden gear shift to Dru/Ash (for TWP marketing) was because she just didn’t want to have to give Ty a major POV. She’s literally never shy’d away from MLM rep (Malec has their own entire series lol), and the fact that the fandom was delusional about it being homophobic makes me sooo mad. Like, it’s super obvious that she will do ANYTHING to not write a Ty pov. She prefers GHOSTS over him

[kinglivv]

13 from the kisses section is literally perfect for 13 and I think that’s exactly why I subconsciously put it there. But what about the same prompt with W!Master because I firmly believe she would still scrunch up her nose but just in different situations.

3 Months

Summary: The Master turns up unannounced in your apartment one night, wounded and needing help. Despite being annoyed with her, you offer your assistance anyways and you have a conversation.

Warnings: Bullet injury - not too graphic.

A/N: I went kinda angsty with this one, but are we surprised? No

You sensed something was wrong the minute you approached your front door.

For one thing, the door’s unlocked. There’s a smear of blood on the door frame, and you’re fairly sure your doormat wasn’t at that angle when you left this morning. Immediately your mind’s spiralling into all of the worst case scenarios.

Who’s in my apartment?

Your hand immediately goes to the gun on your belt, one of the perks of being a detective. Pulling it out and gently opening the door, you can feel your nerves building and the tension thickening. You step into the darkened hallway, gun out-stretched and ready in front of you, checking each room one after another until…

“Ooh! That’s a nice gun! Having fun playing police officer, dear?”

You jump, whisking around to see The Master, of all people, slumped against the doorway of your living room.

“Jesus Christ!” You curse. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You hadn’t seen her in weeks. Not since she seemingly abandoned you on Earth, her excuse being she needed to ‘finish up some business in the Medusa Cascade.’

She opens her mouth to reply, moving to stand up straight, but her face twists in pain as she lets out a gasp. It’s only then that your eyes land on her arm and you realise she’s bleeding through her suit jacket.

“Master!” You quickly rush over to her, a hand landing on her hip and one on her uninjured arm, scared for a minute that she’s about to pass out. Allowing her no room for argument, you guide her over to your kitchen table where she sits obediently.

“How did this happen?” You question harshly, going to the kitchen cabinet which had at some point been designated the ‘my timelord got hurt’ cabinet, which was filled with various medical appliances.

“Long story,”

“I’ve got time.” You reply. The Master may be one of the most dangerous beings in the universe, but you loved her very much and had no issue speaking to her like a toddler. “You know how long I’ve been stuck here on Earth since you disappeared with out as much as a goodbye?”

“How long?” She asks, giving you an unimpressed look, despite the fact that her porcelain skin has gone an unhealthy shade of grey.

“3 months.” You tell her, short and cold. You turn back around, rubbing alcohol and medical kit in hand as you seat yourself in a chair next to her.

“Oh,” Is her only reply. You can tell she hasn’t meant to leave you that long. By her time, she’s probably only been gone a few hours.

She never could fly that bloody TARDIS.

Instead of reading into that, you begin to help her out of her jacket and then waistcoat, unbuttoning her shirt just far enough that you can slip it down her shoulder and get a good look at the wound (it also reveals a lot of collarbone and cleavage, but you pointedly ignore that). Thankfully, the injury’s not as deep as you originally thought. You pick up the tweezers, beginning to remove the bullet. As you begin to pry about the wound, she hisses at the sting of it and reaches for her jacket pocket. When she pulls out a cigarette and brings it to her lips, you slap her hand away, earning a hazel-eyed glare.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” You point out.

“I’m a Timelord, love, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Still, not in my flat,” You insist anyway. She groans as you finally pull out the bullet, tossing it into the nearby bin and then starting on the stitches. She wiggles uncomfortably, letting out a mumble of protest.

“Stay still,” You order her. “Are you going to explain yourself to me now? Where is it so dangerous that you can’t take me or you get shot?”

She sighs, shifting a little as you press some rubbing alcohol against her skin.

“I found out there was a bounty out for you in the Medusa Cascade.”

“For me?”

“For you. Turns out we possibly robbed one to many palaces and now they want your head,” She huffs a laugh. “The rewards for it was pretty good to – I almost considered handing you in myself.” You prod her arm in retaliation to her jibe, and she lets out a pained gasp, before managing to carry on. “I went to go sort it out, and as usual, assassinating the president didn’t go down to well with the people.”

“I bet it didn’t.”

“Either way, the place’s dust now.”

You bite your tongue at that. Even after years with her, the idea of The Master burning planets to the ground will never sit well with you. You despise yourself for being able to look past it and instead love her so much.

You finish up the stiches – which look rather good, if you may say so yourself - and press on some gauze over the wound. You then stand up slightly stiffly, intending to begin clearing up your makeshift surgery, but her good arm grabs yours and she pulls you in, bracketing you in between her legs.

“Come, on don’t be grumpy,” She coos, and your eyes fall over her messy hair, her smudged lipstick, scanning over her very open shirt. “Let me at least say thank you.” She tugs you down, tilting up to press a sweet kiss against your lips, slow and deep.

You finally manage to snap out of it and break the kiss after about a minute, and you pull yourself away, looking down at her annoyed.

“How can you abandon me and not even answer my calls for 3 months, but you can turn up to my apartment bleeding out and trying to come on to me?”

She sighs, sitting back slightly, her hand still fisted in your shirt. “I didn’t mean to leave you for that long, really love, but it seems multitasking flying a TARDIS and trying not to faint doesn’t seem to mix well.” She smiles shyly in a very unmaster-like way, and bites her lip. “I just didn’t want to bring you somewhere as dangerous as that.”

Your expression softens – you know she didn’t really mean to leave you for that long, but nevertheless her carelessness ended in her near regeneration and you having to play normal human for an unnecessary amount of time.

You look down at her, and you know she can probably hear the mental battle you’re having with yourself inside your head. If she can, she probably also knows that she’s won it.

“Come to bed?” She asks, her hands toying with your waistband.

“Fine,” You huff, helping her up and pressing a kiss against her nose, making her scrunch it up in that adorable way she always does. She’s about to complain when your hand slides down her bad arm slightly roughly, making her gasp.

“I’m still annoyed at you.”