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30 Thoughts: Rose
Powerful
Rose had seen the Doctor at his best moments and at his worst moments. He could be funny, goofily or sarcastically. He was quite cute, whether it was with his big ears as the Ninth Doctor or with floppy hair like the current Tenth Doctor. He was emotional, like when he thought he had lost Rose time and time again or when he saw Sarah Jane again, or when he lost Madame de Pompadour. He could get mad, like when Rose tended to wander off alone. And oh, he was so intelligent. There was no use providing evidence because the man embodied intelligence. The Doctor was quite open with calling himself clever, but the truth was that…yes, he was very clever. But above all, and though she could often forget since all his other qualities were ever so present, the Doctor was quite powerful. But like the clever man that he is, he knew enough only to show it when absolutely necessary.
Magic
Every time the Doctor would take her some place new, every time she would walk into the Tardis even…it felt like magic. She knew it was all real, of course. But she would still get that tingling in her stomach, like when you're little and you feel you're seeing something impossible unfold before your eyes. That's what everyday with the Doctor felt like.
Gathering
The Doctor didn't do domestic. He just didn't. Rose knew it was probably because he didn't want to get attached to something that wouldn't last forever, like him. But she also knew it was in his nature to hop from one place to the next, living life by the moment. So when she asked him to come in for her mum's birthday party, a gathering of friends and family, she hadn't expected him to say yes. She told him so, as they walked to her mother's flat, having parked the Tardis on a street corner below. She looked sideways at him, a questioning look in her eyes, though she was quite happy he had agreed to come along. He merely shrugged and with a soft smile said, rather matter-of-factly, "Your wish is my command, Rose Tyler." Her heart melted as she reached out to hold his hand, walking up the stairs of domesticity.
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