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#Downton
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MERRY CHRISTMAS!
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lesbians4kurt · 3 months
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robert: and if u kick every gay servant out of downton abbey, who will be winning the house vs. village cricket match, mr. carson?!
cora: oh that’s not—
robert: in the sense that!
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rosemacclare · 3 months
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ENDLESS LIST OF FAVORITE CHARACTERS: MARY CRAWLEY FROM DOWNTON ABBEY
i should hate to be predictable.
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t0yearnf0r · 2 months
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Again watching downton abbey and I hope I’m not the only one who thinks Mrs Hughes has like a kind of motherly relationship with Thomas?? She’s kind of strict sometimes, but she never seems to *hate* him. I think that’s quite nice to be honest.
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barrowdearest · 1 year
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I'm really bored so CALICO CRITTERS AS DOWNTON CHARACTERS!
Starting off, this is definitely Robert and Cora:
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Keeping up with couples, here's Matthew and Mary:
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Ok, now Anna and Bates:
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Now, you know it, my favorite babygirl Thomas:
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I don't know what to tell you other than he is giving William vibes:
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Too cute for him but this is Carson:
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Now, my girl Mary:
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This is Jimmy simply because he too is a red flag:
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Finally, we have master George:
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thanks for coming to my ted talk, feel free to add more
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cottoncandiescupcakes · 2 months
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Why was Thomas Barrow treated like a leper for being gay when the Earl of Grantham OPENLY ADMITTED to having several gay experiences at school and Carson was literally in a circus act with another dude called the Gay Charlies or whatever
???
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Prelims
Poll A1
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9 contestants, 4 spots for the tournament
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coffeishowifunction · 6 months
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They way Cora looks at Robert in s5 ep8 when she's waiting for him after he had brought Mrs Patmore to her nephews memorial is just. It was soooooooo, "Yeah, that's my husband." It makes me want to scream.
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wardrobeoftime · 1 year
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Downton Abbey + Costumes
Cora Crawley, The Countess of Grantham’s white & black blouse and black skirt in Season 04, Episode 03 & 04.
// requested by anonymous
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adoracora-elizabeth · 3 months
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mrburnsnuclearpussy · 10 months
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Downton doodles pt 8, feat. Worf!
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It's me. Hi. I'm the problem, it's me. At teatime everybody agrees. I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.
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okay-j-hannah · 1 year
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Episode 4: The New Heir
Doctor Who : Multishot
Eleventh Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 3790
Warnings: the spanish flu pandemic of 1918 and lots of references to characters in Downton Abbey - I apologize if you’ve never seen the series but I would highly recommend it 🤩
Request: This just came from my own head 😊
A/N: Follow the lives of the Crawley family and their servants in their Edwardian country estate as they search for the next heir, who will be asked to learn from the Lord and will be encouraged to be friendly with the eldest daughter.
Episode 3: As You Wish
Episode 4: The New Heir {You Are Here}
Episode 5: The Unknown Subject
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The sound of tinkling forks and knives sang throughout the dining room. The rich mahogany table was bedecked with a number of alluring dishes and delicious scents. The guests were all alight by candelabras and the newly installed electric light.
(Y/N) cut a piece of the roasted chicken, tasting the rosemary instantly. The kitchens never disappointed in Downton.
Nor did the company. Seeing as life on the estate was frightfully dull without the people, (Y/N) took pleasure in the conversation. She enjoyed recognizing each of them as people from her own life.
Most of all the Doctor.
He sat beside her, taking on the persona of John Smith once more. “Please send my compliments to the kitchen,” he said politely, “You’re quite right – jammie dodgers are my favorite. I appreciate the homemade touch.”
The table rounded with laughs. (Y/N) looked over and eyed his plate full of desserts. He was lucid like her. Truly the Doctor playing the part just like her.
She turned back to the guests. “How have you enjoyed our gardens, Lady Cassandra?”
The heavily laden woman pursed her lips. She was covered in furs and feathers, practically getting in the way of the food she was pecking at. It was a surprise she could move her eyelids at all with the amount of makeup packed there.
Clearly she was a woman desperately holding onto her beauty as she fell out of her prime.
“I prefer roses over your tulips. But they’re beautiful, nonetheless. I didn’t expect the grounds to be so sunny in the country. It’d dry me out if I didn’t have my butler with me.”
(Y/N) held back a snicker thinking about her sniveling little comrade, Chip. The Doctor cleared his throat, apparently thinking back on the troubles the Lady Cassandra had caused in their own reality.
“You must visit our Downton Village Flower Show,” Lady Crawley said. She was the one supposed to be (Y/N)’s mother – she was one of the few (Y/N) didn’t recognize from her own world.
“I made a report on that,” Sir Octavian recalled from down the table, “And I will say the Lady Cassandra has a point about roses. They were the flower that won the show.” He played the local head of the newspaper in this reality.
(Y/N) took a sip of her wine, “If I’m not mistaken, you have a likeness for gardens, Sir Octavian.”
The man nodded, “I rather enjoy taking strolls. Particularly through statues and fountains as well. I’ve recently acquired a set of stone angels for my own garden.”
The Doctor spoke suddenly through a full mouth, “Weeping angels?”
“Yes, fascinating, aren’t they?” Sir Octavian remarked.
(Y/N) swallowed her chicken. If only the Sir remembered what the weeping angels did to him in the real world.
Mrs. Smith spoke, “I would be interested in seeing a piece about the local hospitals in the newspaper – if you don’t mind me saying so, Sir Octavian.”
“Mother, please,” the Doctor spoke quietly, “You can engage in your advertisements aside from the dinner table.”
His mother was being played by Harriet Jones.
“I apologize – Mother can be rather headstrong about the good causes.”
“I do believe you inherited that trait,” (Y/N) mumbled his way.
Lady Crawley spoke loudly to change the subject, “How have your tours of the village gone, (Y/N)?”
The Doctor responded, “Splendid, really. You’ve got countryside that will last for hundreds of years. Just imagine how they’ll grow and be preserved as national parks one day. An honorable way to preserve the ancient grasslands of England.”
The table had gone silent, forks and knives still.
(Y/N) kicked the Doctor beneath the table.
“Forgive me – just voicing silly antics Lady (Y/N) and I came up with on our adventures.”
“Adventures?” Lord Grantham, (Y/N)’s father, spoke, “Is that what you’re calling your daily outings?”
(Y/N) smiled, “That’s what they are more or less. The latest included a picnic overlooking the village. We tried to attract the rabbits with leftover salad clippings,” she snickered.
The table now shared their fondness for each other. It was no secret they were all in support of the pair to end their friendship in marriage. John Smith was the new heir to Downton and would inherit the title and estate from the family.
Should (Y/N) marry him, the family would have proper cause to remain at the house.
It was peculiar to play a part in a story where they should end up married. (Y/N) certainly didn’t mind, but she wondered what the Doctor thought.
He lifted his glass of wine, took a rather large sip, and spit the entirety of it back into the cup.
~~~
Amy was undoing (Y/N)’s hair, braiding it into a style to sleep in. “I’ve heard some wonderful things about your time with Mr. Smith.”
(Y/N) smiled, “I’ve heard similar things about you and Mr. Williams.”
“The valet?” Amy said with forced surprise, “Heard what things?”
“That you’re to be married,” (Y/N) eyed the woman through her vanity mirror, “That Father has starting searching for a cottage you two could stay in near the house.”
Amy sighed heavily, “Who told you?”
“I was the one who asked for cottage advertisements from Sir Octavian today on Father’s behalf.”
“Fine,” Amy grinned, “Now you share. I’ve noticed how Mr. Smith watches you when he thinks nobody is looking – if you don’t mind me saying.”
(Y/N) turned in her seat, “I rather like your forward nature, Amelia. Just don’t let Mother hear you speak like that.”
There was a knock at the door and a whispered voice, “(Y/N)?”
Amy was frozen and hesitant as she neared the door that was already opening. There stood the Doctor.
“Oh, hello,” he said in an animated voice. “I mean, I’m sorry – could I have a word with Lady (Y/N).”
“Let him in, Amelia,” (Y/N) spoke softly, “And I’d rather you keep this event to yourself, please.”
Amy nodded, letting the Doctor in and shutting the door behind her. Not before she shared a smirk with (Y/N).
The Doctor strode in, rubbing his hands together. (Y/N) took a relieved breath every time she saw him act like himself now. It was comforting after spending a couple realities of him not knowing the truth.
But it was still peculiar with how different he looked. He was still wearing his dress clothes – a suit with an ironed collar and shiny brass buttons – and shoes polished to see your reflection in them. His hair was combed and styled in a professional manner; it made her miss seeing it bounce about as he got into his usual eccentrics.
“Right,” he said quickly, “Splendid work playing the part. I thought a few times there we’d been spotted for being frauds but thankfully we were spared an immediate time jump.”
“You mean the times you ate nothing but jammie dodgers, spit back up the wine, and prattled on about the future national parks of the England grasslands?”
The Doctor threw a hand in the air, “Not important. I only meant to congratulate you on keeping up appearances.” He made to exit the room, but (Y/N) grasped his arm.
“What, that’s it?” she said with sudden anger, “You haven’t been cleverly thinking of some escape plan?”
“We’re surviving with the plan we have.” He held onto her head and planted a kiss in her hair. “Enjoy the fun while we’re stuck here!”
And he bounced for the door before she could lash at him with something more harsh. She still had yet to say something about her mysterious conversation with River Song. She very much wanted to hear from her again.
Not that she didn’t mind the luxury of Downton in the meantime. It was rather enjoyable going on rides or picnics with the Doctor while being treated like royalty on the estate. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to be just (Y/N).
(Y/N) and the Doctor. Companions traveling through time and space.
~~~
It was shaping to be a rather dull weekend as (Y/N) walked the grounds. Looking towards the skies she noticed incoming storm clouds. Clouds that were abnormal for the current season.
The Doctor had gone to meddle in the cottage affair with Mr. Williams and Amelia.
It left (Y/N) with a sense of boredom as she wandered. That was until she heard strange sounds coming from the estate.
She flew around, pebbles scattering around her feet. It sounded like… well, it sounded like the tardis.
She ran for the house, finding herself the staircase immediately and following the sound as it grew louder. She reached rooms that only the servants dealt with. Running through corridors and bumping into footmen and maids.
“Pardon me, Miss.”
“Sorry, Miss.”
“Lady (Y/N), is everything all right?”
(Y/N) ignored them all, hearing the wheeze of the tardis louder and louder until she reached a tearoom. She stood against it, catching her breath and hearing the sound warp.
She braced herself and opened the door. There in full glory was the tardis. It stood glowing and ominous as the day she saw it concealed in the trees.
Closing the door behind her, she whispered, breathless, “River?”
There was no answer.
“River, please,” she pleaded, reaching the box handle and pulling. It remained locked tight. “Hello?” (Y/N) knocked.
“Hello?”
“River!”
“(Y/N), finally!” River laughed, “I’m sorry our last conversation was cut short.”
(Y/N) sighed, leaning against the police box, “We don’t have much time. The dream doesn’t like us asking questions… or making escape plans, for that matter.”
“Have you gotten the Doctor to see the truth?” she spoke within (Y/N)’s mind.
“Yes, though I don’t think he sees the entirety of it.”
River grumbled, “What’s he going on about now?”
“Well, he refuses to think of another way out other than playing our characters assigned to us.”
“No, no – that’s just a mode of survival,” River said, “We can’t talk here. I can already feel the connection getting severed. You need to be somewhere away from the place you woke up.”
(Y/N) nodded, “Somewhere away from the estate.”
“Get somewhere far as soon as you can. Then I’ll try and reach you again – good luck, sweetie.”
(Y/N) felt a tug in her heart. River became silent and when (Y/N) blinked, the tardis was gone. She was left alone in a tearoom.
It was imperative that she got to a faraway location. Feeling out of breath, she ran for the staircase once more, the house slippers dainty on her running feet. She had to lift the hem of her dress as she ran outside, noticing how the grumbling clouds ahead seemed closer, and angrier.
Not trusting herself to remember how to ride a horse like in the last reality, she took off for the tree line on foot.
Trying to convince a chauffer to drive her would be impossible, besides she had to be alone when she sought after River Song. The delicate hairstyle that Amelia braided was coming undone as she fought against the hills and grass and incoming wind.
If the Doctor wasn’t going to do anything about an escape plan, then she was going to have to step up. She didn’t want to be stuck having to pretend in each new existence. She wanted the Doctor back. The Doctor and their old life.
Finding cover under a grove of trees, the light became considerably darker as the storm clouds sat heavy above her. She was far enough from the house now that perhaps the dream would be preoccupied with trying to locate her.
Then there was the wheeze of the tardis again.
“River!” she shouted, unafraid in the sanctuary of the woods. Quite like in the last reality, the tardis appeared nestled between the trees.
“(Y/N)? Brilliant, you were able to get away.”
“But I don’t know for how long,” she replied, running to the blue wood and placing a hand there. “Tell me how to get out of here.”
The tardis warped as River’s voice came through like a static walkie-talkie. “I told you there’ll have to be a big shock. (Y/N), I think you have to scare yourself awake. Like waking from a nightmare.”
(Y/N) leaned against the spaceship, ignoring the light spackle of rain that began to fall. “How am I supposed to scare myself awake?”
“I have my theories,” River continued, the metallic sound of buttons being pressed could be heard through the trees. “But none of them are pretty.”
“What can I do?”
“You’re going to have to die.”
(Y/N) felt the breath stick in her lungs, the smell of damp soil and rain filling her quickly emptying brain.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the natural survival instinct. Like if you were trapped underwater, your body has a natural self-preservation instinct to get air back in your lungs. In this case, your body will wake itself up if your dream state is compromised.”
She soaked up the information, “And the Doctor?”
“I can imagine finding you dead would be enough of a shock to wake himself up.”
(Y/N) now leaned her head against the tardis, the rain beginning to fall more forcefully, “How do you suggest it happens?”
“For the last couple hours I’ve been working on how I can manipulate the conditions of your dream. I could make something plausible happen to you – something realistic to the reality you’re in so the dream isn’t suspicious.”
“Seems a little farfetched.”
“I’ve been manipulating the atmosphere from inside the tardis. Has the weather changed at all since we’ve been talking?”
(Y/N) gave a choked laugh, “It started to rain.”
River sighed, “Excellent. You should expect to get sick in the next day or so.”
“By your doing?”
“Precisely,” River said, “I hear the Spanish flu is all the rage in this time period.”
(Y/N) grimaced, “That doesn’t seem like a pleasant way to go.”
“But it’ll wake you up,” River urged, “We’re running out of time. I’ll see you soon, please keep the Doctor in check.”
The tardis was beginning to fade beneath her fingers, “Sure, thank you River,” she said, backing away and under the full deluge of rain. “You better make it quick.”
The spaceship was fully disappearing now, and the massive droplets of rain were feeling colder by the second. Being drenched in the cold would surely weaken her immune system. And then all River had to do was put someone with the flu virus in her vicinity.
With so many members of staff and incoming guests at Downton, that part was simple.
The trek back to the estate was much more grueling than running from it. With the combination of the rain and the slip of her soaking slippers, she was a mess upon entering the house.
Having fallen in the overflowing hills, the white of her tights were torn and muddy. The delicate soles of her shoes were compromised and left her toes wet and cold. Her hair fell from their braids, left damp and curled against her face.
She resisted the shivers as a lady’s maid gasped at the sight of her.
“Lady (Y/N)!” It was Amelia, “What happened to you?”
“Good evening, Amelia,” she replied, “How was your house hunting?”
The lady’s maid ran over to grasp her arm, “Abysmal – the rain ruined the fun. We just returned. My lord, you’re chilled to the bone.” She pulled on her arm, towards the stairs, “Let’s get you warm. There’s a cold going around and I’d hate for you to catch it.”
(Y/N) smiled ironically at her maid. The year was 1918 and the Spanish flu pandemic was fully on its way. River knew what she was doing.
“I hope Mr. Smith hasn’t returned,” Amelia continued, guiding (Y/N) into her bedroom. “I’d hate for him to see you like this.”
“Would you now?” (Y/N) sighed, the forward nature of her maid – gossiper that she was – could be just what she needed now. “Why is that?”
“Well, on our ride today…” Amelia began, gathering dry clothes and stoking the fireplace, “I told you of my suspicions of his affections toward you. Now there isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
(Y/N) waited for the maid to help her into her nightgown. “Quite the spy you are, Amelia.”
“I beg your pardon, miss. But it’s true – that man has got his heart set on you something fierce.” She fixed the buttons on the nightgown and got a towel to dry (Y/N)’s hair. “I know he’d fret over you if you fell ill.”
“Kind of him,” she said quietly, seeking the softness of the bedsheets. “I’m terribly tired, Amelia. Please send apologies to my family. I don’t believe I’ll attend dinner tonight.”
“Of course, M’lady,” Amy bowed, “I’ll ask that they don’t disturb you.” She made sure the fireplace was full and hot before exiting the room.
(Y/N) laid there trying to get warm. A headache was already growing, and a tickle residing in her throat.
~~~
River worked fast.
Within the next three days a fever grew to exponential degrees. She was wracked with insomnia and coughing fits. She was prone to nosebleeds and sweating through the sheets.
A medical doctor listened to her lungs and met with the group of people waiting for the prognosis outside the room.
With the door ajar, (Y/N) could just barely make out the conversation.
“She’s entering respiratory failure,” the doctor whispered, “Pneumonia has ravaged her lungs. I’d expect things to get a lot worse within the next day.”
Other worried mutterings filled the space. “How long?” came the determined voice of John – the Doctor.
“It’d be a miracle if she made it through the night.”
And that’s why the pandemic was so historic. People would catch the flu and a few days later would die. It killed them quick.
The family thanked the doctor, but John was quick to request time alone with her. The door was shut and (Y/N) could feel the pressure of someone leaning in beside her.
Nimble fingers found her clammy hand, “(Y/N)…”
Her feverish head rolled on the pillow, rasping when she said, “Doctor?”
“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, holding her hand more fiercely. “I didn’t think this would be a part of our script.”
“It’s just a dream, Doctor,” she coughed, “I’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” he said darkly, “We don’t know what’s keeping us here.”
She fell victim to the pneumonia, coughing savagely. The Doctor grabbed her arm as if he could pull her to him and make it all better. He felt hopeless. He felt angry.
“We need to change the reality,” he ground out. “We need to leave this script.”
“That won’t change anything,” she rasped. “We have to let this play out.”
“I can’t,” he said quietly.
The fever was making her delusional, but it sounded like the Doctor was teary.
“Stop,” she said breathlessly, her eyes closed against the heat in her head. “Leave it be.”
“I can’t,” he repeated, “I won’t.”
She was fading, about to succumb to another bout of terrible, sickened sleep. She weakly wriggled her fingers within his grasp. “This is how we escape.”
The Doctor froze beside her, the wetness developing behind his eyes stalled. “What do you mean?”
“River…” she whispered, falling deeper in her sickness.
“River?” he said, “You’ve contacted River Song?” He stood from where his was kneeling, “What has she been telling you?”
(Y/N) had fallen under, the wheeze of her breath the symphony of her bloody lungs. The Doctor leaned over her, furious at being left out of a conspiracy. He was shaking, unable to look at the speckle of sweat against her temples, unable to look at the bluish tinge of her lips or the dark circles under her eyes.
Was it River’s doing? Was she the reason (Y/N) became fatally ill? She was smart enough to trick the rules of the dream state.
“Oi!” he suddenly yelled, “Hey!” He left (Y/N)’s bedside, screaming up at the ceiling, “You’re being manipulated. This was a revision of the dream. Someone is trying to invade. Please…” he breathed heavy, looking towards the sky. “Please don’t let her die.”
~~~
(Y/N) woke up sitting in a rolling desk chair. She was dressed in a professional women’s cut suit and a brown file folder was on the round table in front of her. She was in a meeting room with glass walls and a flatscreen tv.
She rubbed at her temples, the last remnants of the Spanish flu fading away. “What the hell…” she grumbled.
The door suddenly flew open, a group of people all similarly dressed in professional attire coming in with their own file folders.
Jack Harkness, Donna Noble, Amy Pond, and Rory Williams.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Jack winked, sitting beside her, “Did you sleep here?”
“Must’ve,” she said, massaging a crick in her neck, “We’ve been swamped with the press.”
Donna scoffed, sitting down and kicking her feet up, “You’re telling me! Those scavengers will pick our bones clean to get the tiniest detail on this case.”
“Hey, you’re the best liaison we have,” Amy nudged her friend, “I just can’t believe they asked the DAU to help with the case.”
(Y/N) scrunched her brow, finally reading the ink stamp on the front of her file folder.
DAU: Disaster Analysis Unit.
“This is a high profile case,” Rory said, opening his side bag to find his glasses, “They need as much help as they can get.”
“I don’t fancy the world ending because of some lunatic in a cocktail dress,” Donna said, flipping through the folder, “I mean who decides to be on the run from international governments in four-inch heels.”
“Classy,” Jack said with a grin, “If I was a criminal, I’d want to do it in style too.”
The door opened again, and (Y/N) had to consciously keep her mouth shut. The Doctor came walking in, file folder in hand. He was in a clean, pressed suit, his hair combed to the side and the lightest bit of scruff growing on his face.
He looked so un-Doctorish, but terribly attractive.
“Good morning, team,” he said with a commanding tone. He must have been the head of the DAU team. “We’ve gotten our next case and have pressure from all sides to apprehend her before a doomsday occurs.”
He went to turn the tv on, “Previously our unknown subject, she’s been identified after her last attempt to devastate England. She was caught trying to plague major cities with vials of disease she developed at her university. She tried to cause a worldwide pandemic.”
(Y/N) gulped, already guessing who their unknown subject was.
The tv flickered on and plastered to the screen was a picture of the suspect:
Professor River Song.
~~~
Tag List:
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emcgoverns · 11 months
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elizabeth mcgovern as cora crawley, countess of grantham, in season 1, episode 5 of “downton abbey” (october 2010) | 🎥: dir. brian kelly
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shochmonster · 1 year
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I miss these idiots.
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