#lcstthief

      “ We’ve been over this ten times, Samuel.  I can’t buy it yet, we have           to wait for it to go to auction.  He already announced it. “

      He forces himself to sit up after a second or so, dropping his hands to         his lap so he can stare at the older man on the other side of the table         in their hotel suite.  He understands the excitement, really he does,         and he understands the urge to just go in there, steal it, and kill         anyone who disagrees.  

      But it was announced, and his interest was known.

      It would come back to him, and that would be a mess.

one sammy a day keeps the doctor pretty close to you bc you’re smoking passivly a lot

     ‘ i’m a SINGER not a stripper !! you’re not putting no dollar bills in my underwear, bud — ’

When Sam didn’t seem to get it at first, Holden felt a clenching in his chest. Had he made the wrong decision bringing it up now? His confidence was fast to fade, leaving him an anxious mess on how to proceed -

And then it seemed to click in the older man’s head. Recognition flashed in his eyes and Holden felt the breath leave his lungs.

Now or never. Now. or. Never.

“I want you, Sam.” he repeated, his voice ever so soft, perhaps a bit needy in tone. “You. I want to be yours. I want to wake up next to you, I want to hold your hand sometimes and kiss you, and just experience the world with you? I want to...be with you. I want to be yours.”

That...had been much more than Holden had imagined to say, but none of it was a lie. Feelings had been nagging away at him for quite some time now, and even if Sam rejected him right here, right now - at least he could get this awful feeling of unknowing out of his chest.

whiskydeputy ♥ post

baagha ♥ post

“No...”

IT’S NOTHING short of a travesty. He’s curled up on the bed TEARS streaming down his cheeks as he screams bloody murder, rising up from the bed, PACING about, smashing mirrors and anything else he can get a hold of. ENRAGED with the bloodlust for vengeance that he’ll never have.

SAM WAS GONE.

It wasn’t fair. The universe had played him a fool and RIPPED away Sam from him not once but TWICE. And with the violent noise of his descent into grief the rage boils like a BLAZING inferno. HE TEARS through the motel room until the sound of a LOUD knock seems to invoke his ire, bloodshot eyes, TEARS still streaming down his cheeks as he swings the door open READY to scream at the top of his lungs, but as he does so the words CATCH in his throat.

“What the FUCK d’you–––”

HE stops cold, Sam’s beaten and bloodied form looming in the doorway. He looks like SHIT, but Karter in that moment had never been happier to see him. Never been more ecstatic to be wrong in his life. The man utters a few soft words, Karter incapable of uttering more than a few noises before saying his name softly.

“Sam...”

But that semblance of peace is short lived as Sam comes TOPPLING down on him, his arms wrapping around the elder of the two PROTECTIVELY, his blood staining the shirt he’d kept and worn to try and find some sense of peace ( it still smelled like him ). And Sam’s last few words of sentiment seem to be that he RECOGNIZES the cloth, more specifically WHO it belongs to. IT’S THEN that the realization sets in.

“Sam? Sam!”

HE DRAWS in a deep breath, going into a panicked state trying to weigh his options. HE COULD try to force a blood transfusion, but that’d take too long and could KILL Sam if he wasn’t careful.

“Hospital..HOSPITAL.”

HE RECALLS seeing one not too far from the motel they were staying at. It went without saying that he was thanking GOD that he had recalled the location as he hikes Sam’s arm over his shoulder and tries to move carefully but QUICKLY to the car, swift in his motions as he guides Sam into the passenger seat and all but BLAZES away from the motel, leaving no care for their belongings as he turns and screeches down the road.

“Sam? Sam stay with me, C’MON, m’gonna get ya help. JUS’...jus’ tell me, what th’hell happened? HOW LONG have ya been walkin’?”

He hates doing it but it’s out of desperation that he starts lightly slapping Sam’s cheeks, anything to keep him awake. HE DOESN’T waste time once the hospital comes into view, his mind RACING AS HE ALL but barrels the car into any open space and drags Sam along with him.

“Sam! SAM! C’mon we’re almost there, we’re gonna get ya help.”

IT’S THEN that a sudden realization comes to mind once they enter the hospital LOBBY, the nurses scrambling after Karter’s GRAND entrance. He needed to make sure they wouldn’t keep them apart. 

THE RINGS.

He recalls them from one of the first jobs they did together. IT’S A LONG SHOT, but in the midst of the ruckus Karter’s slight of hand manages to slip the golden RING nestles ‘round Sam’s neck onto his RING FINGER before doing the same for himself once Sam’s put onto the gurney. AND BEFORE the nurse can get a word in EDGEWISE–––Karter’s eyes flash RED with malice.

“That’s m’HUSBAND, move outa th’way girlie ‘fore we have a DAMN problem.”

He’s so blurred that he forgets he’s still wearing the bloody shirt of Sam’s, but he ignores it now for favor of chasing down the doctors who wheeled Sam off. 

although her previous job history had implied that she was a bar waitress,   lara croft was not an avid drinker.   she did find the activity a waste of money and time,   but she was not about to scold every person who enjoyed their drinks.   she remained seated on the bar stool,   her hand gripping the glass of water that was placed on the counter,   eyeing her surroundings carefully.   lara did not enter the building for fun,   instead seeking the privacy the place offered   —   the bar wasn’t her go-to spot and that would throw the press off.   movement beside her had caught her attention and once she realized her stool had been too close to the other,   she scooted it away while mumbling a quiet   ‘   sorry   ’,   taking a sip of her beverage.