Sam: Hello, all! The fabulous Sam Nishimura here, with my ever faithful companion, the has-the-cutest-butt-in-the-known-universe, most brilliant archeologist Lara Croft here!
Lara: Sam...don't submit that.
Sam: But Laraaaa, your butt deserves media attention!
Lara:...If anyone has any inquiries, send them this way.
what do you think about an erection while kissing?
Sam: Lara’s not into it.
Hello! Lara/Sam and videogaming.
Sam, Lara, and Mortal Kombat.
Okay, here’s the thing. I’m pretty competitive, which Lara seems to find hilarious, so even when I’m doing something I’m not so good at, I’ll get super worked up for no reason.
So Lara, as most people know, has crazy good hand-eye coordination and can strategize at the drop of a hat. Which makes her awesome at a lot of stuff, some of that stuff being unexpected to those who’ve not seen her from day to day domestic situations.
Everyone always talks about Lara going on and on about archaeology, but imagine Sam making Lara watch documentaries for camera goodies :3
Sam/Lara anniversary (of anything)
How about the anniversary of Lara’s parents’ death?
She’s really drunk. Lara doesn’t get drunk, ever, like, never ever, but right now she’s drunk off her ass. Her choice of drink? Fucking tequila. Tequila does NOT make her a fun drunk, it makes her depressing and anxious and angry.
"Have a drink, Sam." She waves me over with the bottle in hand, the booze clear as ice. I pace to her slowly; I can feel the deep furrow between my eyebrows and the well of concern behind my eyes. I take the bottle gently, wrapping my fingers around her own at the neck.
"Come on, sweetie. We’re gonna go to bed, okay?" She leans back into the couch and glares up at me without gleering contempt.
"No, I’m celebrating." She barks a single note, coughs, and tips into the soft plush behind her.
"No, you aren’t." I pull the liquor away from her and place it on the coffee table. "Let’s sleep a bit, okay? You’ve got class in the morning."
"Doesn’t matter," she mutters. "Doesn’t matter."
"I know you’re hurting, Lara." I kneel between her knees, keeping her hands in my grasp in front of me. "I know you miss your parents. But you can’t do this to yourself."
Her eyes level into mine hard. “Think about Roth, sweetie,” I whisper, trying to get through her haze of loss and drink. She glowers at me, unmoved, and so I step up my game and take her cheeks in my grasp. She flinches a bit.
"Think about me, okay?" I keep my voice as soft as I can. "I’m still here. It’s okay."
She’s so still for a moment, then she breaks, breaks down in my arms, sobbing and biting her nails into my back. She cries into my chest desperately and I coo to her until she passes out in my arms.
Sam is introduced to one of Lara’s more dangerous hobbies.
5pm. I told her the right time, right? I glance at my watch anxiously, fiddle with my purse and tap my fingers against my thigh. 5pm. What if I missed her? Did I tell her 4 instead? I know I was thinking about asking her to come get me at 4…Ah, shit. I really hope that wasn’t my first impression, telling her to come get me at the wrong time then totally looking like I ditched or something. Lara seemed kind of sensitive, too; I really don’t wanna be the source of her anxiety lately.
We’d only gotten to hang out a handful of times, now. Twice at parties, where I wasn’t hanging out with her so much as with some grade A manmeat, trying to convince her to come onto the dance floor.
Was I at the right place? I said outside the Fitch on Sicamore, didn’t I? I mean, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t-
Pressure on my left shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my skin.
Cuddles after testing. Pre- Yamatai.
I don’t know why. If you asked me to explain why, for some weird reason, I was at my cramped little shared dorm instead of out getting completely smashed and acting like a total moron the night after finals, I really…I couldn’t tell you. Not honestly, I guess.
I’d been planning to. I got home from my last final, well tired but eager to get out and forget the last week. But while I was crawling into a skintight red dress and trying to decide whether or not to bother wearing panties, I thought about Lara.
And, I mean, it was just a passing thought. But it made me stop.
Lara’s gonna be exhausted when she gets home.
Sorry if this is off track for this blog, but did you say Conneticon? Is there actually another tumblr user from Connecticut?
(Yup Yup :) )
After Drugs, Sam finds her favorite bartender nose deep in her studies.
Libraries are…I don’t know. Libraries kind of creep me out. It’s not that I’m stupid or ignorant, or something like that; I just…they’re big and lonely and they have that old, musky smell that reminds me of a coffin, and you can walk the halls of the ones in central London for what seems like hours and not once cross paths with another person.
That’s just how I feel about them. But now I’m in one, wandering aimlessly and too lost to ask for help, searching. Not for a book, but for a person. A girl, the same girl that saved me from some serious shit the first time I’d talked to her. That cute bartender who gave me the free Sangrias, even though she knew I was trying to get one over on her.