rhythmicphysicist

[rhythmicphysicist]

Send in 🎁 + an item to give my muse a Christmas present!

[rhythmicphysicist]

“...I don’t even have an excuse this time. Désolée, apologies.”

[rhythmicphysicist]

dance dance revolution? how about france france revolution instead

[rhythmicphysicist]

[rhythmicphysicist]

“...ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ⱽᵃˡᵉⁿᵗᶦⁿᵉ'ˢ ᴰᵃʸ.”

[rhythmicphysicist]

It show time☆

[rhythmicphysicist]

“...Honestly, 26 isn’t all that bad of a result. Moved one from last year, but... Isn’t all that bad.”

[rhythmicphysicist]

@parisprivate-eye réagi à votre billet: “X”.

‘‘ Samba is boring. ’’

...réagi à votre billet: “X”.

‘‘ Seems like it winds up your gears. ’’ Charlie no–

YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

[rhythmicphysicist]

[rhythmicphysicist]

timestrandedodst:

The marine moved down the metro tunnel as silent as a ghost, he wasn’t sure if there was anything down in the metro, however he wasn’t going to take any chances. Lucas has learned the painful way why taking chances in situations was always a bad idea. As he moved down the metro, he turned on the flashlight that was on his M7S as the distance from the station lights grew. The ODST paused for but a moment when he noticed scratch marks in the concrete and more telling, blood. He knelt down and prodded the small pool of blood, he noted as he briefly rubbed the darkish red liquid between his gloved fingers that it wasn’t that old. Perhaps four hours old at the most. Wiping off the blood on the concrete he looked up ahead. He decided to radio Alexander. “We got scratches in the Concrete and a pool of blood here. Have you found anything else?” He said over the radio before awaiting a response. 

“Negative, I’ll give you an update if we find anything comrade Reynolds.” The young Russian said over the line in reply. Lucas made a sound that was a cross between a annoyed grunt and a growl before standing back up and proceeding further down the tunnel. The marine toggled on his VISR’s night vision function and turned off his flashlight, since there was a enough intact service lights for his suit’s system to effectively use the low-light vision function. As everything around him gained outlines and as the darkness become like a green tinted overcast day, Lucas could see blood. And something odd on the tracks ten meters ahead. As he crept up, he kept a very close eye on his motion tracker and more importantly, he listened to all that was around him. Looking for anything that was a miss, anything that could tip him off that he was not alone down here. At 3 meters distance he grimly realized what it was on the tracks. The severed hand of a woman.For a moment the marine had panic rise up in him before he squashed the feeling. He looked and partially breathed a sigh of relief when the severed hand didn’t belong to the thief since the hand looked older and had a platinum wedding band on it. 

Reynolds looked around before radioing it in, “Alexander, I a severed hand, and a lot of blood. About 170 meters down the west bound tunnel. Blood doesn’t look that old, so Stauffenberg may still be down here.” Lucas grimly reported to the young Russian as he stood up and continued down the tunnel, following the trail of blood and grimly anticipating what he may find at the end of the trail. Seven minutes later, Lucas reached the end of the trail at a maintenance room. The sight was horrific but one he had seen similar to all too many times back in the war. The woman, what was left of her, was scattered in perhaps 4 recognizable pieces in the room. Her face, the half which was still uneaten, was still locked in a wide-eyed scream. The marine radioed Alexander in and gave him the grim update. “I’ll have some men go there to recover the body-” The Russian started to say before the Staff Sergeant cut him off. “No, don’t. Not until we know this bastard isn’t still down here with us..” Lucas said sharply before signing off. He continued down the tunnel and came at a junction point and turned left. He could see a ladder to the surface a dozen meters up ahead. Though as he neared there, he heard footsteps and a sudden ping on his motion tracker at a second junction. When he turned to face it, the contact smacked into him. 

He staggered back a couple steps before looking down at what had just ran into him. Lucas blinked behind his helmet visor when he realized he was looking at Phantom R. ‘what is she doing down here?’ he wondered to himself as he took a step forward. Heavy armor thudding on Concrete. The noise was intentional on his part, since it was clear she couldn’t see him very well in the very dim light. He couldn’t blame the Phantom, the coloration of his armor meant he melted into the shadows. “Hello again, Phantom.” He said in convincingly Russian accented voice, so she would not recognize him by the sound of his voice. Though the semi-artificial coloring his helmet’s external speakers gave his words would also make IDing him out of armor harder. 

Foreign. That’s what it felt like. Add a bit of unnerved to the mix as well. Traversing the souterrain without her companion for the first time in a while. Hearing unfamiliar sounds and seeing little to nothing at all in the dark sewers. It was a more than uncomfortable experience for the thief.

Not to mention she lied to Gâteau too. Well. Pseudo-lied. R did have an item in mind to grab, but she wasn’t quite sure on how to pull off her steal. Which was very unlike her usual character as she normally plans out her heists many weeks in advance.

Deciding to get this over with in a faster manner, R decided to run. It probably wasn’t the safest or smartest option considering her current location and what else could be lurking down there with her considering all the noise she was making. Surely it wasn’t all that bad of an idea now, was it? ...Yeah. It was a bad idea. Her running ultimately caused her to slam face-first into what seemed to be another person. It also caused a very sore face due to her running speed and hardness of the material the other person was wearing. Cue another bruise to come up again. She instantly recognised the figure despite the dim lighting, and upon realising so, felt as if she needed to run off. Which she was initially doing anyway-- But she simply couldn’t. Her feet felt like concrete blocks. She wanted to call for help-- For Gâteau. But she was alone.

“..!!”

A week in Paris

[rhythmicphysicist]

[ sticks my url out real far ;3c ]

Send me your URL and I’ll post 3-5 icons that sum up my muse’s feelings on yours.

[rhythmicphysicist]

メリーゴーラウンド乗りたいの…｡

[rhythmicphysicist]

One of Renko’s greatest fears: Audible wind.

[rhythmicphysicist]

Date: Jeudi le 18 Janvier 2017. Time: 03:02am. Mood: Conflicted.

“...Perhaps I should stop obsessing over samba. It’s 3AM, I’m bored and the first thing my mind goes to is samba.”

[rhythmicphysicist]

send me your url and i’ll post 3-5 icons that sum up my muse’s feelings on yours.

[rhythmicphysicist]

“...Can I just like, date every girl ever?”

[rhythmicphysicist]

There was once a time where Fantôme forgot what maracas were called and simply called them “samba sticks”, hoping that people would know what she was talking about.  It was a very dark time.