Revs the engine, she thinks to herself, laughing a little, smudging the polish on the end of her thumb. Christ, Tyler, you're shallow. She wipes the edge with a tissue dipped in acetone. Her own fingers are a little too short, she notices now. Just a bit too short and the knuckles are a little too wide. Not especially graceful hands. But then, they don't have to be. She's not the one turning coins into birds and birds into silk scarves and scarves into real snow that's cold to the touch. She just holds the box open or the ropes up or slips between the mirrors. She's another prop for him to touch, to twirl, to caress- magic, those beautiful fingers say to the crowd, against her skin, after the swords and throwing knives and glass. Nothing touches her but him. Magic.
"You're on in five," Eileen says, through the door. Rose blows on her nails and smiles to herself, humming under her breath. And then there's a tiny knock, a little tap, and Rose is already saying come in, because honestly, Eileen is like
( ... )
Why do you call yourself the Doctor when you're really a magician
omg flailing this idea is amazing. You're amazing. The world needs more Doctor-with-a-bouquet that becomes Doctor-with-a-hundred-scarves and vice versa.
Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaands ♥ can you stan a body part? because i stan for hands. And this was such a beautiful ode to hands and Rose/Doctor and an all around giant helping of YES.
Revs the engine, she thinks to herself, laughing a little, smudging the polish on the end of her thumb. Christ, Tyler, you're shallow. She wipes the edge with a tissue dipped in acetone. Her own fingers are a little too short, she notices now. Just a bit too short and the knuckles are a little too wide. Not especially graceful hands. But then, they don't have to be. She's not the one turning coins into birds and birds into silk scarves and scarves into real snow that's cold to the touch. She just holds the box open or the ropes up or slips between the mirrors. She's another prop for him to touch, to twirl, to caress- magic, those beautiful fingers say to the crowd, against her skin, after the swords and throwing knives and glass. Nothing touches her but him. Magic.
"You're on in five," Eileen says, through the door. Rose blows on her nails and smiles to herself, humming under her breath. And then there's a tiny knock, a little tap, and Rose is already saying come in, because honestly, Eileen is like ( ... )
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Why do you call yourself the Doctor when you're really a magician
omg flailing this idea is amazing. You're amazing. The world needs more Doctor-with-a-bouquet that becomes Doctor-with-a-hundred-scarves and vice versa.
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