#unboundtravels

[mielmoto]

What to get your lovely assistant when you come back from your very TOP secret and VERY limited capacity assignment that kept you off the grid for a few months? This is the question The Doctor asks himself during the plane ride back to UNIT HQ. Of course he WANTED to bring Honey. Absolutely, he did. However, some select few members of UNIT's higher cabinet staff insisted this mission was TOP SECRET. Only UNIT'S best could go, and unfortunately— that included him.

Which meant leaving with nothing but a cheap handwritten note that said

'be back soon'

Allegedly, some of the men had been given strict orders NOT to answer any questions regarding where all these high profile UNIT members had gone. This was a strictly OFF THE BOOKS mission, meaning The Doctor was out of touch with his assistant for WEEKS. It was miserable. Never at any point prior had he realized just how much he'd needed Honey to help make all this droll military work interesting and fun. So surely, to make it up to her and to tell her just how sorry he was for leaving so abruptly, he had to get her something. Surely.

Unfortunately, he didn't take his own car to the airport. That was probably also a red flag for Honey, as The Doctor adored that car. When he wasn't working on The TARDIS in a continued effort to escape his forcibly-imposed exile— he was adding all sorts of modifications to Bessie to improve her performance. Nobody would simply believe she was anything more then an old beat up car, however. That being said, his determination to surprise his assistant was still ever present.

So, what to do? Well, easily— ditch the group of returning cabinet members who are going straight back to HQ. That gives him time to find a cab and spend his hard earned money that he never uses. He usually just gives Honey most of his salary, as even in exile— The Doctor still doesn't really have any use for money. All of the faculties inside the TARDIS still work, aside from her flight capabilities. This eliminates the need for him to require anything. That being said, they insisted he didn't leave his credit card with her. This allotted him some element of flexibility, however. He had a lot of room to spend.

But what first?

Well, it's starting to get colder. Honey hates the winter, she loves the summer and the springtime. So, perhaps a nice coat with a fur lining? Bright colors such as pink and yellow seemed to be her forte, so he picked a few luxury coats, some new boots and bags (and even some jackets, as he only pretended not to notice how often they ended up matching outfits.) At the first store alone, he easily spent eight hundred pounds on winter clothing alone.

And yet he wasn't satisfied. (Does he enjoy spoiling her, or something?)

THE LAST TIME HE GOT HER JEWELRY, she seemed highly receptive to that. Was too much jewelry tacky, though? He thought he remembered hearing that Honey liked bathroom items. Like soaps and candles, bath bombs and what not. So, he went somewhere and proceeded to spend another five hundred on a plethora of items that seemed to fit her aesthetic. At this point, the cab driver had to be tipped extra in order to stop his yammering. The Doctor felt bad for making him wait, but once the driver received his tip— he seemed rather receptive towards more gift shopping. He even made a few suggestions, all of which The Doctor disregarded. He was trying to show his appreciation— not make her blush.

Though, after his final stop at the bakery— it seemed as if he'd spent enough money to do that regardless. The final haul of gifts totaled out to about two thousand pounds. Cakes, bathroom items, flowers, clothes, shoes, bags. An entire trunk was filled with boxes galore, all of which he'd simply grabbed because he hadn't been satisfied with just one category of item. He simply needed to grab her everything all at once and more.

Which all culminated in him bursting through the doors of his laboratory with a few poor souls from the front gates wheeling in all the gifts he bought her whilst he stands near the door with his fists on his hips.

"Right, we've got a lot to go through. Pick a corner and start unwrapping."

What a gentleman...

'be back soon'

No punctuation; no folder, document, cryptic photograph or loosely correlated text underneath to even subtly hint at what he was doing, or where in all the gods' names he might be going. That in-and-of-itself wasn't unheard of or terribly strange—though the Doctor was generally good enough, (nowadays), to give her some clue on the somewhat-rare occasion he couldn't bring her along—so it didn't trouble her much the day she first plucked the note off his desk.

She simply set aside the parcels she'd picked up from delivery and set to work on what little tasks an assistant might do in their assist-ee's absence: organizing bits-and-bobs, tidying the lab (without disturbing anything she was sure he'd come looking for exactly where it was), and eventually settling on doing inventory: taking stock of everything in their current supply, requisitioning replacements as necessary, and generally making sure everything was set to run smoothly when her 'boss' made his return.

"soon," he'd said.

Those tasks only managed to keep her busy the first week and change; then she was left showing up to the lab each day, dithering around for an hour in case 'today' was the day he'd clatter in through the door with an armful of whatever technological ephemera he'd stumbled upon in his ventures, along with other samples, souveniers, and stories to tell for every one.

She only bothered trying to ask about the mysterious disappearance once, maybe twice, to a handful of different UNIT staff, before it became abundantly clear nobody was going to spare a crumb, even if she batted her long and lovely lashes at them or teased some form of bribery. Hush, hush, the whole thing. Need-to-know basis only—and they'd clearly decided she didn't need to know.

Fine. She had other, better ways to keep busy than to sit by the door and mope like a lonely puppy; and despite running out of official work to do (for lack of an eccentric alien to assign it), they didn't stop paying her—so la-di-da. See if SHE cares about all your cloak-and-daggerness!

Spite was enough to carry her through the end of the first month, and barely into the second. Same as every other time: it gave plenty of time to study, branch out into new avenues and take a few tests, even volunteer for some shifts at the clinic near her flat; it gave her guiltless leave to finally make it to some of those lovely little underground concerts and other exciting social... events she'd missed while running about; and, of course, many hours spent lazing about—late to bed, late to rise, idly listening her way through several new records while rifling through a spellbook she'd managed to quietly acquire from a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-relative's-neighbor... and if she happened to spare an evening to send a protection spell out into the starry sea, in hopes it might find someone far away, then so be it.

'be back soon' my ass.

She turned the note over in her hand for the hundredth time, an ill-suiting scowl on candygloss lips which were so well known for framing laughter and playful smiles, melodramatic pouts and anger which came and went like a puff of steam—not this kind of expression, at all. Weary, anxious, sullen and irritated; as a week turned into a month and a month turned into more.

By the end of the second month, she'd started coming back to HQ at the top of the day—brought a portable record player from home to spin vinyls on, accumulated a pile of textbooks and notebooks, a grimoire or two, keeping busy... all the same things she'd been doing to fill the time, only in the place where he would hopefully come to first, the moment he came back.

Because she wanted to be ready to read him the riot act the SECOND his feet hit familiar soil. How dare he! How dare all of them put her through this! Being treated like a child, left in the dark! She didn't care how TOP SECRET the whole affair was supposed to be—they'd had no issue tossing her into the frying pan in other volatile situations before! She couldn't have kept count of the debriefs she'd gone through after ventures with the Doctor if she'd wanted to, but all of a sudden they can steal him away without a word, with no estimate of return or vague details, and she was just supposed to be fine with that? As if!

Honey must have rehearsed her rant a dozen times over by that morning. The bustle outside was impossible not to notice long before they properly reached the doors—which saw the little blonde perk in her seat, promptly dropping the note as well as the tome she'd been unceremoniously using it as a bookmark in. The clamor of burdened wheels chuttering over the floor, at nearly half a dozen different footfalls laced between each rattle, bump, and shift.

An audience, huh? So be it; maybe it'll help the shameless man feel as scolded as he'd ought to!

She finally stands, trotting over to stand front-and-center before the doors, briefly wavering between 'huffily folded arms' or 'coolly disappointed, slightly nonchalant hands-on-hips' before settling on the latter. Oh yeah. She was ready.

At least, she'd thought she was. Ready, perhaps, for him to saunter in through the doors all casual-like, as if no time at all had passed; just another day in the office, maybe a little 'Ah, hello Ms. Moto. I hope you've had a restful time?' or perhaps a HINT of guilt (not nearly enough), with a quiet apology which she'd barely take in stride before going on with her monologue. Honey was not, obviously ready for the parade which suddenly burst into the room: her Doctor at its helm, throwing the doors open in a flourish and making way for his miniature infantry of porters to ramble in behind.

They're a mirror of each other in stance, though the ire which creased her brow is quickly overtaken by bewilderment, watching the hoard grow, and it's all she can do to blink in the meantime.

"Right, we've got a lot to go through. Pick a corner and start unwrapping."

It's not an explanation, but the apology is there all the same, delivered in the language of affection he knew best. He wasn't always the best at talking through his feelings or avoiding putting his foot in his mouth, but what tact he may drop in the department of delicate discussion, he'd more than once made up for in gestures and, indeed, gifts.

If her nerves hadn't been so harried and thoughts filtered through a lens of worry, perceived helplessness, and irritation, Honey might have expected as much. It was hardly the first grand gesture she'd been on the receiving end of from her employer, and they were long beyond the days of him being careless of her feelings...

But she still ends up pouting through round cheeks at him. She'd put a lot of thought into how she was going to lay into him—and some of their other superiors, given the chance!—and now he'd gone and spoiled all that effort because she couldn't be THAT petulant in the face of such wanton spoiling.

Not content to give up her (righteous) anger, entirely, she crosses the gap between them with precise strides and looks up at him with a flinty glare—holding fast in that fashion for a moment before raising one hand from her hip to bap him on the nose with the back of her hand; a barely-there tap not unlike the kind one might give a cat muzzling too-near their plate.

❝ Don't think for a second that you can buy yourself out of trouble, mister. There's not enough fancy gifts in the world to brush off a stint like that. ❞ ...though he'd notice, too, that all her bluster and pout can't completely mask the relief which traced the back of her words, the worry finally escaping her lungs where it had made nest—gentler emotions which quickly overcome her: amethyst eyes take a turn for the tearful, and she hides her face by leaning her forehead against his shoulder. ❝ ...worrying as awful and as long as all that isn't good for a beautiful girl's complexion. ❞

Thankfully, the other men who'd so diligently helped load the bounty into the room were eager enough to take their leave, so the decidedly less-than-"professional" display is witnessed only by the man whose shoulder the blonde briefly sniffles against, before leaning back and delicately bringing the backs of her fingers to swipe under misty eyes. ❝ AND bringing me to tears when I did my makeup so nice? Horrible. Terrible. VERY un-gentlemanlike. ❞ Thus returns the teasing tone under melodrama, and a wane smile reclaims its natural place.

❝ You bring me whichever gift you think is going to cheer me up the most, and we'll start from there... but most importantly, and before any of that:

welcome back, Doctor. ❞

[poswiecenia]

( 🌙 ) HER WINGS FLARED as the woman glared hot at the woman who sat upon her throne. her own brother was lost to her, she hadn't an idea where he was and precious time was being wasted as she was dragged into a war that was not her fault. the woman tugs at the binds that hold her, at the men in uniform that lead her to rassilon's presence. she's pushed to her knees, the blonde's teeth gritting as she breathes out rough, her gaze full of loathing as SHE LOOKED UP.

❛ HAVEN'T YOU DONE enough ? what more DO YOU WANT out of me and my family ? ❜

@unboundtravels gets this for rassilon ( late time war ) & pre - teyvat lumine ig

[lunaetis]

@unboundtravels replied to your post :

What a good bean.... she has no bad bone in her body...

look at that face. she could do no wrong.

[erabundus]

@unboundtravels &&. said... 📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂

i'm  going  to  do  a  quick  lightning  round  of  headcanons  i  either  want  to  elaborate  on  at  a  later  date,  or  things  that  more  or  less  explain  themselves!

in  the  scene  where  scaramouche  is  falling,  you  can  see  his  eyes  going  dull  in  the  instant  before  he  hits  the  ground  —  that  isn't  symbolic  or  indicative  of  his  (  frankly  in  shambles  )  mental  state.  his  eyes  are  always  faintly  backlit  by  the  power  of  the  electro  battery  powering  his  system;  when  he  loses  consciousness,  they  go  dull  —  he's  basically  powering  down  like  a  machine  going  into  standby  mode.  it  would  also  happen  if  he  were  to  fall  asleep ...  if  he  ever  slept  willingly.

though  speaking  of,  the  kabukimono  actually  did  try  to  stick  to  a  regular  sleep  schedule!  in  fact,  he  would  spend  a  lot  of  time  trying  to  copy  the  people  around  him  in  an  effort  to  be  human;  eating  despite  feeling  no  hunger,  resting  despite  feeling  no  fatigue.  it  didn't  really  work  out  for  him,  because  sleep  made  him  deeply  uncomfortable  —  oftentimes  he  would  just  lay  there  willing  himself  to  lose  consciousness  or  go  for  little  walks  when  he  found he felt  particularly  restless.

ren  sheds  tears  every  time  he  falls  asleep.  he  claims  he  doesn't  know  why  it  happens  —  and  that's  true.  he  assumes  it's  a  flaw  of  his  design.  it's  more  incentive  to  stay  awake,  if  nothing  else.  however,  there  is  an  actual  reason  for  it;  he  just  can't  remember  what  it  is.

his  tastes  in  interior  décor  are  actually  really  old  fashioned;  if  you  ask  ren  to  decorate  a  house  he's  going  to  fill  it  with  peepaw  furniture  circa  four  hundred  years  ago.

a  lot  of  his  interior  components  (  ley  lines,  muscle  fibers,  some  organs  )  resemble  tree  roots.

ren  is  ambidextrous,  but  he  usually  pretends  to  favor  his  right  hand  —  both  because  it  affords  him  an  advantage  if  the  situation  arises,  but  also  because  he's  always  seen  it  as  another  oddity  that  sets  him  apart  from  everyone  else.

he  also  occasionally  pretends  his  memory  isn't  as  sharp  as  it  actually  is. sometimes to be petty, sometimes in an effort to feign humanity. even if he no longer has aspirations of becoming human, it's still beneficial to masquerade as one ... and if he's speaking with the rare few he's on genuinely good terms with, he doesn't want them to feel more unsettled than they already would be.

that  also  means  he's  CONSTANTLY  studying  people  and  accumulating  information  in  a  little  mental  file  when  he's  interacting  with  them.  if  you  say  you  hate  white  chocolate,  he  will  remember  forever  and  use  it  to  inform  his  decisions  moving  forward.  he  may  ask  you  occasionally  just  to  give  off  the  impression  that  he  doesn't  know  —  but  it's  a  lie,  meant  to  fool  you  into  thinking  he  hasn't  been  meticulously  cataloguing  your  likes  and  dislikes  in  his  brain  library.  it  also  feeds  into  how  ren  adjusts  his  behavior  in  accordance  to  the  morals  and  preferences  of  people  he  seeks  approval  from.  there  is  still  a  sort  of  blank  slate  element  to  him,  no  matter  how  vibrant  his  personality  may  seem.

if you gave scaramouche a lightbulb, he could make it light up in his bare hands.

he  knows  how  to  play  the  shamisen,  and  first  learned  during  his  kabukimono  era.  he  heard  someone  else  making  music  and  was  so  enamored  by  the  sound  that  he  asked  and  asked  and  asked  until  they  finally  took  pity  and  taught  him.

his  sense  of  smell  is  quite  sensitive.  not  in  the  same  way  that  kazuha's  is  —  rather,  he's  very  weak  to  strong  perfumes  and  colognes  and  the  like.  they  make  him  feel  sick.  scaramouche  refused  to  let  his  subordinates  wear  anything  of  the  sort,  and  ren  just  tries  to  avoid  them.  more  subtle  scents  are  fine.

scaramouche  would  occasionally  take  great  joy  in  coming  up  with  completely  unnecessary  rules  for  his  underlings  to  follow  —  then  try  to  gaslight  them  into  believing  they  made  them  up.  there  is  literally  no  constructive  reason  for  this  beyond  him  being  an  absolutely  insufferable  person  with  a  collective  grudge  against  all  of  humanity.  most  often  he  would  target  the  newest  subordinates  beneath  his  command  and  be  especially  cruel  to  them  so  he  could  properly  "break  them  in."  hazing,  but  the  one  doing  the  hazing  is  your  superior  who  you  aren't  entirely  sure  won't  kill  you  if  he  doesn't  crush  your  spirit  first.  there's  a  reason  he  was  so  wildly  unpopular.

SEND 📂 FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON

[rcsadimare]

      "" so . . . . you said this place is called paris ? "" to be able to call this an adventure and not a dream was , quite literally , too surprising for navia to process fully all at once . arm interlocked with the other's as they walk around under her parasol , her bright blue eyes looking at everything and everyone with wonder .

   "" and that it is similar to my home ? . . . "" while certain things and even names were similar , yes ; fontaine was fontaine and nothing could ever come close to it ! "" those are quite the big shoes to fill , doctor . ""

starter call ( 5 / 5 ! ) ! // @unboundtravels - goth !

[aeternxs]

lil starter for @unboundtravels

It was a gaze of subtle skepticism, an emotion that wasn't very common for Freyja at any point in her life. But this...person felt so strange to her that it was the only emotion she could call forth at the time.

"You...aren't from around here either, are you..?" She grumbled, eyes squinting ever so slightly as she studied them as if they were somehow more alien than she may be.

[inavagrant-a]

🔥🔥🔥

You're on fire.

Give me more takes.

It's okay to disagree with people and have a discussion. A discussion does not equate to arguing, but with that said it's always good manners to let each other know hey I'm not arguing with you, we're just talking this out. Talking things out with someone who has a different perspective than you on a similar subject might help you open your mind to things it was initially closed off to or something you weren't considering.

I can not stand the Summer. The heat drains me out completely and it makes me feel sluggish and that's not God's plan.

Oranges are delicious and the best thing to have happened to us as the human race.

[inanthesis]

@unboundtravels : "You know, I've watched mountains form and shape- but I've never seen it done by hand! Exquisite craftsmanship." //From Looney to Zhongli- don't mind him he's doing a 1000-yard stare at Liyue Mountains.

"Well, by hand is a bit of an exaggeration in some ways. Most of the time, at least." It has been said in many stories told already that Rex Lapis shaped the mountains of Liyue with his own two hands, and he would think himself capable of doing such a thing as he has risen mountains before, however...

"Most of Liyue's landscape is the result of war when my stone spears tore away at the land as they pierced through large, powerful enemies who also did do quite a lot of damage on their own. Few mountains were consciously altered, and when they were it was with purpose as I had long ago raised Mt. Tianheng an an attempt to quell the seas and lower the tide."

[screenviolense]

　　' i understand you're a man and all, but when are we going to stop somewhere so i can get a proper coat? ' her voice was saccharine but it barely hid her annoyance or the slight chattering of her teeth. though she loved her wardrobe, it was meant for the sunny, occasionally breezy mondstadt days or the spot by the fireplace where she liked to read.

　　' i find it very hard to keep up my charm when i'm starting to turn blue. '

@unboundtravels / wintry starter call.

[mielmoto]

@unboundtravels replied:

Bond vc: What kind of game is this..??? 🤨

ugh. once again my hard work and highly professional opinion gets brushed aside. oh well.

[she promptly flips the chalkboard over to its other side, revealing a romance manwha-panel quality illustration of two characters with the aforementioned biscuit stick suspended between their lips]

the pocky game, my dear Doctor, is about the TENSION, it's about the coquettish mystique–

[primegrim-a]

      she couldn't care at all about her surroundings ; even as they went haywire , lights flashing on and off and the whole room shaking , she didn't care . white eyes were full on the man before her , head tilted slightly to the side , white hair floating below the veil she wore .

   the government already had information on this man , who suddenly appeared and disappeared constantly. so many sights of him on past documents , and all things considered ; maybe in the future already , too .

   "" state your name and purpose . "" her voice is echoey , arm stretched out entirely and going through his neck ; phasing through it without trouble . "" now , unless you want your head no longer attached to your body . ""

starter call // @unboundtravels !

[lunaetis]

@unboundtravels replied to your post :

pink vc: Yes!! Get over here!! Where have you BEEN omg

​─「胡桃」─  " doctor ! there you are ! were you looking for me ? are you happy to see me ? yea, yea ? " she was giving him a nudge with her elbow. " c'mon. you could say you miss me. i won't make fun of you ~ "

[erabundus]

the  wanderer  operates  beneath  a  veneer  of  relative  apathy  —  that  indifference  his  shield,  and  sharp  tongue  his  sword.  he  drifts  about,  seemingly  UNCONCERNED  with  the  goings  on  around  him.  more  preoccupied  with  whatever  unexplained  motive  takes  precedence  in  his  own  mind.  however,  to  say  he  doesn't  care  would  be  a  grave  misinterpretation  of  his  character.  there  are  several  things  the  wanderer  holds  dear  to  his  nonexistent  heart  —  things  he  will  fight  tooth  and  nail  to  DEFEND.  sumeru  just  so  happens  to  be  one  of  them.

... and  sumeru  only  has  room  enough  for  one  wandering  eccentric  garbed  in  strange  attire.

❝  who  do  you  think  you're  trying  to  FOOL?  ❞   he's  been  lurking  around  for  quite  some  time  now,  a  figure  peering  eerily  at  this  stranger  from  the  shadows  and  outermost  edges  of  every  crowd.  try  as  he  might,  ren  can't  quite  seem  to  string  together  a  proper  MOTIVE  —  only  that  his  intuition  (  as  that  detective  would  say  )  is  all  but  screaming  something  is  off.  perhaps  a  direct  approach  is  a  little  inelegant  for  his  liking,  but  the  wanderer  admits  he  hasn't  exactly  been  subtle  about  his  suspicion  to  begin  with.   ❝  you're  up  to  SOMETHING;  anyone  with  eyes  can  see  that.  ❞

@unboundtravels &&. liked for a SMALL STARTER.

[primewitch-a]

@unboundtravels // *sip sip* "This needs more honey." Everyone's a critic.

      " next time , make your own tea , then . "

[inavagrant-a]

"Do you wanna talk about it..?" [From Space Dad]

@unboundtravels

The snapping of the wood under the fierce burn of the flames of the fire that had been set up for the night is the only sound within their space amidst the wilderness of Inazuma. Being here... it makes Tetsuya more quiet than usual, unsettling so. It made him more on edge, the blade that he is, the edge sharpens anew, the barbed wire that surrounds him becomes larger and its sharpness will cut with newfound vigor to which Tetsuya will not apologize for to whoever attempts to reach in. In his silence, his mind is loud and in quiet protest he throws another log of wood into the flames so it can be consumed for his ever watchful pleasure if only to prevent his mind from consuming him into its own personally made abyss.

With him a man, forged and dented by many a celestial and cosmic matters that Tetsuya is still to grasp, but those details aren't something he's paying any particular attention to at this time, not when his mother creator is but a few hours away from where he is. His change in character, in his behavior, is all too obvious even to those inept of emotion. Even if Tetsuya would prefer that attention not be aimed at him, he supposes with this individual that's going to be impossible. Tetsuya frowns looking over at Goth, the bluntness of the question something that he did not expect... but appreciates nevertheless. Individuals who peek from behind bushes are the ones that annoy him the most, after all.

He keeps his peace, not in consideration or contemplation, but only because he wants to keep his peace, he wants to be quiet. Being in Inazumen soil brings back many a things all at once at forefront of his mind that, to his credit, is never truly empty.

The wanderer's frown softens, not out of tenderness, but out of a weariness of the soul, perfectly shaded over by his kasa as he rests his chin on the hand of the arm that's propping on his knee, turning his gaze elsewhere. "No." What is there to talk about anyway? The past is the past, even if he's the only one who's carrying it in his memory.

[spxnglr]

❝ You've regenerated. Again. ❞

HE WAS CLEARLY AT LEAST A LITTLE EXASPERATED. Gone was the polite curiosity that he'd possessed back when he'd first crossed paths with the being in his presence. In its place, the combination of far too much of his own journeying through the universe and meeting numerous different incarnations of his friend amidst it all. He understood enough of the beautiful chaos that existed beyond Earth to exert the level of tolerance that he once could. Still, he was never going to refuse a chance to see The Doctor again - whatever version this individual was going to turn out to be.

❝ For someone who once told me that your kind are immortal barring accidents, you have a habit of finding yourself in fatal situations...unless this is yet another timeline, and you have no idea who I am. Nothing about you could surprise me anymore. ❞

@unboundtravels || 𝚂𝙲.