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Eighth Doctor Drabbles

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For much of Liv’s life survival had seemed unlikely; shopping for pleasure was like something from another universe. Which was how everyone looked at her when she walked into Harrods, like an alien dropped among them. Pants on women in early 1920s London were definitely not a thing, as she’d discovered over the last two weeks in the city.

She was tired of the stares. It was time to blend in.

The process was tedious, but she finally found some outfits she liked. Then the saleswoman held up a corset.

“No,” Liv laughed. “I want to acclimatize, not torture myself.”