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.

(Source: edenprimers)

okh-eshivar:

Injured Lara doodle.

urtombraiderlc asked:

So, we know one of the things that made Lara fall for Sam, but what about you Nishimura? What made you fell for Lara?

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Sam: Lara pretty much made it her civic duty to make sure all the ladies felt taken care of at the NineBells. Instant girl-crush.

Anonymous asked:

Lara, was there anything specific that happened that made you fall for Sam in the first place?

ask-lara-and-sam:

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Lara: She remembered my birthday when no one else bothered. For some reason it hit me rather hard.

Sam: AwwWWW!

Anonymous asked:

Lara, was there anything specific that happened that made you fall for Sam in the first place?

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Lara: She remembered my birthday when no one else bothered. For some reason it hit me rather hard.

Sam: AwwWWW!

Anonymous asked:

Lara on the island did you find yourself in some extreme situation ( Like: jumping from a hight spot or crossing a river with strong currents..) where you were doubting yourself weather you can do it or not?

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Lara: I just had to learn not to hesitate. Honestly, there were times I thought ‘I’m going to die, oh well.’ But things seemed to work in my favor. Relatively speaking.

Sam: Damn.

bloodspit93 asked:

Lara are Jaffa cakes your favourite biscuits? they appeared twice in the comics so far.

ask-lara-and-sam:

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bloodspit93 asked:

Lara are Jaffa cakes your favourite biscuits? they appeared twice in the comics so far.

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Metamorphosis, a TR one-shot

okh-eshivar:

read with: (x)

Fire.

My knees are scorching up on the hot ground. I am not here. I feel my eyes moving around in my head, but I don’t command them to do so. I am not here. I am one thousand miles away. I am transcending my own body, my soul. My fingers are loose on the gun in my right hand, my neck lulls back into the smoke; inhale, exhale. I am not here. There’s blood in these eyes. I am not here. This skin itches with scabs and open wounds and grime and death. I am not me.

The body in front of me is not Sam. Dressed in white and white and red, Sam would never wear that. My gaze is hooked in the sky; the body in my grasp is not Sam. Inhale, exhale. Gunpowder. Screaming. It feeds a twisting stab in my gut, it completes me. I’m shedding out of myself, I leaving something behind. This is not me, and this is not Sam. My insides are tearing themselves apart. Sam would never lay this still.

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