LOST CHARACTER TROPES | JAMES SAWYER FORD
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LOST CHARACTER TROPES | JAMES SAWYER FORD
“You got a better idea?”
open starter.
“I think some of us are meant to be alone.”
if you start a ship with me i go from 0 to SIGN ME THE FUCK UP in no time flat.
open.
"Calm down, Chicken Little. The sky ain't fallin' just yet."
Indie RP looking for partners
Anyone interested in threading with Sawyer from LOST? Like this post or send me a message and I will set up a starter!
//ooc
Wow, I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last logged in here. Anyone still out there? I really miss RPing here.
"I need a doctor."
"Then we’ll get you to one, okay? Just hold on. Lean on me."
"Super pretty. You sure you weren’t a male model? Totally seems like a gig you’d do." Kate gave him a teasing smile before growing serious again. With his winced a frown formed on her lips. "Yeah, we’re almost there." A few minutes passed and they were back at camp. Kate got him settled at his tent before handing him a water bottle. "Stay here. I’m getting Jack, okay?"
"Still a lot you don't know about me," he winked a little. But as soon as they were at camp and he was laying down, the tension and pain he felt washed over him in waves, and he just nodded. "Ain't goin' anywhere. Come back real soon, freckles."
Victory Isn't so Sweet || James & Kate
Kate paused in her movements when James held onto her arms. For a moment she had forgotten that he was even there. Breathing in shakily from her crying, she relented and followed him over to his bed. He’d never been so kind to her before. Why couldn’t he be like this all the time? Then maybe they’d actually get along. Being engaged to him wouldn’t be so terrible, and the rest of their life together might actually go smoothly. Kate took a seat on the mattress, and pulled him down with her.
When the tears refused to cease Kate found herself doing the unimaginable. The victor moved into his lap and wrapped her arms around her fiance, holding him tightly. Mere days ago she never would’ve imagined so willingly going to him for comfort. She’d loathed him from day one, and not much had changed since she’d been forced to start to get to know him. Yet there she was. Crying and screwed up in his lap. She was beyond caring what his reaction would be. Kate just…needed someone. Needed him. Kate pressed her face into his chest, unsure of what the night would bring.
He wouldn't have ever expected this reaction from her, but James's responsive was instinctive, and his arms wrapped tightly around her in return. Things had been unstable and difficult between them, largely because of him, and he knew that. But he finally saw how terrible this was for her, what she was going through, and he leaned back against the pillows on his bed, just holding her close.
Nothing needed to be said; he knew what must be going through her mind, what must be causing such an ache in her heart, and he just held her, comforting her the best he could. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, his fingers stroked through her hair. "I got ya, sweetheart."
With a small smile, Jake nodded just in understanding of the whole situation. It was nice to finally meet someone that had their wits about them and a good head on their shoulders. Of course, Jake would take one step at a time to feel the situation out as it went along. Usually he could spot bullshit from a mile away and Sawyer seemed to be a no-bullshitter like Jake.
Jake chuckled a bit and shrugged, “Ok. I guess I can call you Sawyer then. My name is Jacoby. Most just call me Jake though.” He shook the can he had in his hand and couldn’t wait to eat it. Everyday seemed like he got hungrier and hungrier, but people couldn’t eat until they were stuffed like they had in the world before. The knife he had cut into the can with ease. Jake made a vow silently to himself to go hunting in the very near future. The skill was something he had become quite good at living all alone.
"You can eat all that if you want. I am gonna bag some meat later. If you plan on sticking around you can help me clean it."
He raised an intrigued eyebrow when Jacoby mentioned hunting for some meat later. If this kid was a good hunter, then he would definitely be a useful ally to have around. Before the world went to shit, James had been a conman, which certainly didn't make him the most trustworthy kind of guy in most people's view. But there weren't a lot of options these days.
He certainly didn't plan to take advantage of this guy, not wanting to lose something that could be a good thing. He'd learned to hunt by necessity, though he still wasn't the best at it. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from this kid.
"Mighty kind of you," James responded genuinely, taking a hearty bite once his lid was off. He reminded himself to pace his eating, and then nodded. "I'll tag along."
"I don’t exactly have time to play games."
"What are you so busy doin'?"
"I wouldn’t worry about that. Half the people who claim to like Picasso are only doing it because they feel they should. I love Art, but I could do without its pretensions, or the pretensions humans put on it, I suppose."
Ariadne smiled at Sawyer, shrugging a little. “I had piano lessons as a kid, but I was hopeless. Small hands. But any kind of musical talent is a gift. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” She really had to get a hand on her accidental irony.
"That's what I always hated about, I guess. LIke I'm bein' told I gotta like this, and if I don't, I'm dumb or somethin'." To him, true art was about the feelings it evoked, it wasn't about seeing one particular thing when you looked at a painting.
He chuckled for a moment. "Heard that before. Maybe one of these days I'll let it sink in." He leaned forward, crossing his legs beneath him, resting his elbows on his knees. "Never wanted to play any other instruments?"
"Who did this to you?"
"Doesn’t matter. It ain’t your problem, Atticus."
Ellen was no fool; she knew what hydrogen peroxide on a cut felt like and the fact that he was trying to be so big about it made her lips twitch — though she did manage to suppress any laughter.
She focused intently on the task at hand, pausing to look at him only when he threw her a vague story. ❝ Running his mouth? ❞ She didn’t recall pissing anybody off — or even speaking to anyone else aside fom Sawyer, for that matter.
It made him a little grumpy and brusque for just a moment, hating the way it stung the cuts on his face. But at least he knew it was doing its job, cleaning out whatever foreign dirt and dust might have collected in there.
A sheepish look descended on his face, and a crooked smile appeared as well. It was true that she hadn't spoken to anyone, but that didn't stop the asshole from fixing his sights on her. "This asshole thought he had a right to you, like you were just a piece of meat. Ain't gonna stand for someone talkin' about you like that, darlin'." His protective instincts had kicked in, and he'd pummeled the guy.
There wasn’t enough time to say the things that she was feeling. And she was sure that even if they’d had the time, she wouldn’t. Maybe it was fear of them that kept her quiet — fear of the unknown, fear of him not returning them. Though that was ridiculous — she believed with entire certainty that he did feel the same way, she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her, feel it in the way he touched her gently even though everything about him indicated roughness. The fear was her own doing, and she wanted to do whatever it took to not dwell on it now. To just be there in the moment with him.
When he bent down to press his lips against her neck, Emma let her head fall back slightly, closing her eyes so as just to feel the way he kissed her. She ran a hand up along his shoulder before curling fingers around the back of his neck, as though she could just hold them there together, never letting go. And how she wished that was possible — that they could just stay this way indefinitely, no responsibilities to return to. It was that thought that once again brought her back to the realization that she had never cared about someone so much, had never come close to giving her heart away before. But it had come so easily with him, and the future didn’t seem so uncertain with him by her side.
He was young, but he'd had his share of a few unattached sexual entanglements in the last few years. The sex he'd had then was purely carnal, all about pleasure, and mostly selfish on his part. He felt bad about that, but those were the thoughts running through his youthful and immature mind. Not that he'd grown up a lot in some ways, but in others, he'd been changed irreparably; war did that to a person. But he did like to think some things had shifted for the better, in his mind and heart. Because as he laid there with Emma, lips pressing tenderly to her skin, he realized he didn't care if they made love.
The thought was a surprising one to him, but also comforting somehow. He'd get teased endlessly if anyone in his platoon knew, of course, but he truly didn't care. Emma meant more than that. He wanted this to last, he wanted this to be something, not a fleeting thing borne of need and lust. His feelings for her ran deeper, and he wanted to adore her, to love her in a way he supposed he'd always wanted to love someone. Anyone. But his life until now had been so hollow and lonely, until Emma brought happiness and light to him. He loved her, he knew that, and though he didn't speak the words out loud, he pressed his lips to her chest, right where he knew her heart to be.
Stranded // Claire & Sawyer
Smirking at his emphatically defiant statement, Claire shook her head. “I know you’re not. That’s why it’s a fun epithet. I’m sure you understand irony.” This man didn’t seem wild on ingratiating himself with her, though after their short interaction, Claire doubted it was anything personal. She could empathize, and found herself briefly wondering what his childhood must’ve been like for him to wind up the way he had. She knew her own was worthy of a B rated horror; his couldn’t have been that much better if he so carefully guarded himself. That being said, she’d give him the wide berth he seemed to prefer, at least until they had to work together.
Tomorrow would be an interesting day. However, there was tonight to tend to first.
"Though if I’d thought otherwise, you would’ve just proven me wrong," she scoffed, mock upset. "I suppose tonight will be the tale of the princess and the grain of sand, since no peas are available." Winking, she said nothing further and made her way just a little bit further out. It was far enough away from Sawyer’s claim to be polite, but still within range of the group. Sitting down unceremoniously in the sand, she proceeded to dig a shallow bowl, long and wide enough to curl up into. It didn’t take horribly long, and once that was accomplished, she ventured to the edge of the treeline, hacking down some low-hanging vines and broad leaves with one of her knives for bedding. Claire brought all these back to her spot as the last of the light left and furnished them into a makeshift bed. It was going to be a cold night, but at least she wouldn’t wake up to sand in her mouth.
His eyes lingered on her for a little while, though he didn't know why. He shouldn't care, really, but some part of him did, he guessed. Just as he'd always felt at least a modicum of care and concern for nearly everyone he'd known in his life, though he rarely showed it, and they left before had a chance to. He certainly didn't plan to let on that he gave a damn, and he hoped they'd get through this scouting mission tomorrow without much trouble.
Admiring how easily she'd accepted that she was on her own tonight, James just shook his head, pushing aside a few scant thoughts of admiration as he journeyed back to his spot to sleep.
In the morning, he had what he assumed was everything they would need, ready to go for the journey ahead. And he knelt beside her, waking her up unceremoniously with a rough shake to her shoulder. "Hey, princess, your carriage awaits," he remarked dryly.