#El Paso || Martin Riggs

[whosxafraid]

riggsanity replied to yourpost:-chuckles for the next thirty years-

tots are srs business!

          “Oh aye....very serious. D’ough oi’canna help bu’ be wonderin’ wha’ ye do when de’ere be twenty-seven lef’ on d’pla’e. D’ye jus’ leave ‘em? or d’ye be havin’ d’constitution t’keep ye gag reflex from foi’rin’ off so ye can fi’ t’las’ ta’ wee bi’ in?”

[riggsanity]

Continued from [x] @therealgamble

Cahill told him to try and reach out to his fellow officers, make some acquaintances. Build connections. Riggs found that concept about as appealing as rolling around in the ice cold surf during BUDs but as he looked for a place to sit, well, the universe looked to make him be social one way or the other. The only way he’d make it on his terms would be to pick the best option of available seats. 

One in particular stood out, looking like he’d be at home at the El Paso Sheriff’s Office back in Riggs’ native lands and that won him the honor of accompaniment. Riggs pulled out the empty chair and flipped it around, casually making himself at home as he dropped the vending machine lunch and cup of terrible coffee onto the table. 

“Martin Riggs. The other guy they talk about in briefings.” Unfortunate consequence of being involved in the explosion of a Los Angeles institution. He gave Gamble’s hand a brief, firm shake before opening the bag of chips. “Also might’ve accidentally cockblocked my partner last time, so I’m getting the silent treatment. Opportunity to make new friends, right?”

[whosxafraid]

Roof Tops and Beers

Tracked from [ + ]  ||  @riggsanity

               “Aye, me d’anks. Suproi’sed i’be healin’ half as good. Lads gave i’hell e’ery chance d’ey be gettin’ when i’ were new.”

A nod that accompanies the word as he twists about again to retrieve a beer for himself. Cap clipped off with the roof key, and fiddled with as he takes a sip.Though he’s fighting not to drown on black the next moment. Sputtered choking that ends in a string of curses and laughter. He hadn’t been expecting that response. And even though he’d never seen the new ones...well the joke still carried. One that he feeds into without so much as a blink.

             “Aye d’ey be me second choi’ce fer sure.”

And that’s a truth right there. Because he’d never given another earthly unit a second thought. Tossed his lot in with the SEALS and pray it stuck. And luck had it that it had. He’d made it through hell and come out the other side with some damn idea of what he was. Which had bled into who he was. But that’s a mess best left for another day, or never.

Legs resettle him, brushing off the beads of liquor from his jeans. Shoulders squaring and straightening out his spine for a few seconds, before slouching again. Watching the sun sink lower behind the taller building. It is pretty...in a industrial sort of way. And he’s glad they’d vacated his apartment for it. More open. Less closed in feeling. And maybe he’s physically shrugging off the sensations and images that idea brings to light.

Thankfully though something catches his eye. Something from the window across the street, and green is pulled towards it like a magnet. A hint of a smile that comes and goes from his features, before he’s taking another bite from the bottle. Commenting in the wake of it.

          “An’ d’ere be d’lady o’d’house....fifteen minutes an’ d’foi’re works be startin’.”

And what he means by that? Well he isn’t the only one, Houdini the Feline King of Apartment F13, in Brooklyn, doesn’t like. And in fifteen minutes assuming he’s not running late, Riley will be coming home. And a new installment of the game of thrones will commence.

[whosxafraid]

6. Military unit?

Meme: I have seen many questionnaires but none including history. What a shame.. Status: OPEN

A side glance, meant to ensure the fucker is joking. Because he’s got to be right? Asking a fellow Navy Seal what his favorite military unit is….

        “T’feckin’ airforce.”

A pause that he lets sit for a long few seconds before he can’t hold it any more. Laughter rolling up and out of him from somewhere deep. That sounds like something stuck between crashing waves and muted thunder; though gentler than both of them combined. Fingers catching on the hem of his T-shirt to pull it up on one side, high enough to show he’d had the creed of the Navy Seals inked into his skin a long time ago along his side and ribs.

           “Oi’be bleedin’ blue d’rough an’ d’rough, El Paso.”

Never mind the fact the idea is a bit sad by itself. Because at one time his blood couldn’t have been greener. But that was a long time ago, before he’d been uprooted. Twice. Once from Ireland and a second time from his family. But right now isn’t the time for such melancholy notions, so instead he’s reaching into the cooler for another beer. Handing it off to his new friend as they sit on the edge of his apartment building’s roof; watching the sun go down over a city that never slept. Though he can’t help but rib as his laughter dies off.

            “Ye?”

[whosxafraid]

🔔 (because for the lols)

Meme: Send In 🔔 To Catch My Muse Under Some Mistletoe Status: Open

Christmas. He got lucky this year. Getting to be home for it. Getting to spend it with that one particular little ray of beautiful that’s current hoping about the party as if she actually might be fair folk. A sight that’s kept a near perpetual smile stitched in his features. A good year of whiskey sipped on, as he stands a bit away from the primary crowd. Holding up the archway into the hall. 

Don’t get him wrong he loves her get togethers it’s just…sometimes it’s hard to handle so many at once, right off the bat. Readjusting to civilian life isn’t a cake walk and he’s learned to take baby steps. Especially after as long a run as he’d had this time. Eighteen months is a long time to be away. Along time to pick up things that are hard to put down again, because they stick to your skin like fly paper.

Things like what makes him start the smallest bit when there’s suddenly someone else taking up the weight of the other side of the elongated door way. Green shifting to the other man for the smallest second, as memory places him. 

     Beth sure knows how to throw a party.

     “Aye, she do.”

      It’s Luka right?

      “Yeah.”

A small nod and shift to offer a hand between them. One that’s taken and given a shake made out of lead and sturdy stock. And maybe that says a little more about the man in the forefront of his name.

         Martin Riggs.

Right. Beth’s Vet SEAL friend. Cop now if he’s remembering one of their phone calls properly.

       “Noi’ce ta be finally meetin’ ye. Beth’s talked o’bout ye.”

                Same, brother. Same.

Each returning to their space to watch the festivities at their own controlled distances. Sipping on one of two things that never really fails to warm the blood of anyone. Content to take up their own perspective vigils. At least until…

              Jolly Green! Remember our bet? Twenty-bucks on the mistle toe, amigo!

And green shifts upwards. An almost sighed curse not meant for hearing, as his glass is set precariously on the bookshelf near by. A quick movement and flair that puts his girlfriend’s friend in a position Luka would much rather her be in. Hand over turning Martin’s face before planting the mother of all exaggerated kisses on his cheek. Returning the ex-Seal to his feet again, as Luka points across to the room to the one of his team that spoke up. 

           “S’twenty plus interest ye be ownin’ me, wee man.” 

                 Damn it, homes!

A choir of voices responding “SHUT UP, HOUSE!” before the room as a whole wavered with laughter from all.

[riggsanity]

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE. STOLEN FROM @zkljns FEEL FREE TO STEAL.

BASICS.

► NAME ➔ “Martin Riggs. Usually just go by Riggs, though there’s a few that prefer using my first name in some form.” ► ARE YOU SINGLE? ➔ “I was told the term is ‘widower’.”  ► ARE YOU HAPPY? ➔ “Next question.” ► ARE YOU ANGRY? ➔ “Angry keeps me going, I guess. Fire’s always burning within.” ► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED? ➔ “That’s one thing my father and I got in common. Wish we didn’t.”

NINE FACTS.

► BIRTHPLACE ➔ “You know El Paso in Texas? I was raised in this shithole town outside of El Paso.”  ► HAIR COLOUR ➔ “’s brown? Of course I know it’s brown but I’ve been in LA long enough to feel like that’s not a good enough description. People in this town and details when it comes to simple questions.” ► EYE COLOUR➔ “Brown. I mean, I’ve heard a little green in ‘em too but hell, brown is what my driver’s license says.” ► BIRTHDAY ➔ “April 20th. Miranda laughed when she found out, said, ‘of course you’re a Taurus.’ ‘cause it’s a bull and I can be bullheaded with the best of ‘em.” ► MOOD ➔ “Nap or fight somethin’. Maybe fight somethin’ and then nap.” ► GENDER ➔ “Guy. Male.” ► SUMMER OR WINTER? ➔ “'m from Texas. What do you think?” ► MORNING OR AFTERNOON? ➔ “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Bless you, Jimmy Buffet.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE.

► ARE YOU IN LOVE? ➔ “That’s askin’ for hurt even though I might again. Heart wants what it wants, even in pieces.” ► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ➔ “...probably shouldn’t.” ► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP? ➔ “...not answering that.” ► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART? ➔ “Someone has to love you or at least give a shit for that to happen.” ► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS? ➔ “I didn’t used to be.” ► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➔ “Someone hugged me. Wasn’t a fan of the sudden hug from a stranger thing.” ► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER? ➔ “I doubt it.” ► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➔ “Think it came that way.”

FOUR CHOICES.

► LEMONADE OR ICE TEA? ➔ “Whiskey.” ► CATS OR DOGS? ➔ “Dogs. I don’t mind cats though. A little allergic to ‘em though.” ► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS? ➔ “A few best friends without a doubt.” ► DAY OR NIGHT? ➔ “Day. The monsters come in the night, lookin’ to drag you to Hell.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS.

► FALLEN DOWN / UP THE STAIRS? ➔ “Who hasn’t?” ► WANTED SOMEONE / SOMETHING SO BADLY IT HURT? ➔ “Imagine anyone who has a heart has been there, hurt that. All want something, someone, and it just can’t happen.” ► WANTED TO DISAPPEAR? ➔ ”Think about it often.”

FAMILY.

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG? ➔ “I don’t have any family.” ► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE?” ➔ “Hell, everything happens for a reason. Just got to figure out what that reason is.” ► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT? ➔ “Depends on what you’re talkin’ about.”

FRIENDS.

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS? ➔ “You go through the work of havin’ a friend, why’d you keep someone around you hate?” ► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS? ➔ “They stuck around and haven’t given up on me yet.” ► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU? ➔ “No one. Opening up to people is right up there with...something appropriately awful or hard. I’m not good for it”

[riggsanity]

clock hands moving backwards

“We caught him on a bus headed north towards the state border. New Mexico.” The nudge at just the right moment, as he started to shift weight from one foot to the other, left Martin wobbling for seconds before he fell heavily into the chair. Hands cuffed behind his back, he landed awkwardly, shooting a dark look up at the Ranger. 

The officer behind the desk sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Are the handcuffs absolutely necessary?” Martin had heard that tone plenty out of Charlie in the past. When it came to the El Paso Sheriffs Department, Martin Riggs unofficially became his problem about five years past now. 

“Flight risk.” The Ranger pulled Martin upright, reaching behind to unlock the cuffs. Martin stared at the desk in front of him, trying not to see the way Charlie looked at him with that disappointment. One of the few adults in his life that gave a shit, he knew he’d catch hell once the Ranger left. 

Once the cuffs were off, he sat back in the chair, rubbing his wrists. The Ranger made his exit and Martin and Charlie were left sitting in silence while life in the department went on around them, phones ringing, keyboards tapping, conversations a low murmur in the background. 

“New Mexico? Kid, I know your father’s parole was comin’ up but you’re going to get in some serious trouble one of these times. There won’t be a thing I can do to get you out of it either.” Charlie leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “You told me you wanted to get out of here the first chance you got, after graduation, and you were doing so good at not - “

“At not what? Not gettin’ detention for defendin’ myself? Just lettin’ people talk shit?” Nathan still had some friends on the outside, friends who thought he couldn’t possibly be guilty of what he’d gone to prison for. “They moved up his parole hearing, Charlie,” Martin added softly, picking at the frayed fabric around the hole in the knee of his jeans. “I was supposed to be outta here before that came around. If he gets out...” 

The sharp rap of knuckles on the desk’s surface made him look up finally. “He ain’t getting out, Martin. No grand speech about good character in prison is getting him out until he serves his full sentence. You hear me?” Martin hesitated slightly, chewing on his bottom lip. He’d been bullshitted often but Charlie, unlike most adults, he told him straight. Scared him straight too.

“I hear you, sir,” he answered softly, dropping his gaze. 

“Good,” Charlie replied, then shook his head. “New Mexico?” 

Martin grinned, running his fingers through his hair to push it out of his face. “Thought I’d head up to Roswell, flag down the mothership and hitch a ride on him,” he drawled, enjoying as the expression on Charlie’s face went from curiosity to exasperation. 

“Watch that sass or you’ll be hitchin’ a ride back to the Donahues,” Charlie stated, rising from behind his desk and grabbing his keys from a drawer. The amusement fell from Martin’s face as he realized his break from reality was just about over. Rising from the chair, Charlie clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever happens, Martin, you got someone in your corner, all right? Just got to give it a little more time. You’re almost there.” 

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He hesitated, dropping his gaze to his battered knockoff Converse sneakers. “Charlie? Thanks.” 

The man’s stern look broke for the first time in the conversation and he ruffled Martin’s hair affectionately. “Hey, I’m counting on you to fill my spot when I’m ready to call it a day. Can’t do that if you keep breaking the law.” 

Martin snorted softly. “Me? A cop? Whatever you’re drinking, Charlie, you might want to take it back a bit...”

[riggsanity]

Full Name: Nathaniel Martin Nathaniel Riggs Jr. Nicknames: Riggs, Marty, Sand Hobo, Stick of Dynamite with a Mustache, Avery’s Lunatic Birthdate: April 20th, 1983 (Taurus)

Ethnicity: Caucasian Species: Human Gender: Male Height: 6′1″ Eye Color: Brown Hair: Brown Marital Status: Widower Face Claim: Clayne Crawford

Profession: Cop, former Navy SEAL Education: Graduated from El Paso High School, bachelor’s degree in Political Science from United States Naval Academy Languages: English, Spanish, some Arabic, Farsi, Urdu, Russian Skills: Military sniper, exceptional aim, hand to hand combat, weapons knowledge, tactical knowledge

Personality:  TW: Trauma, PTSD, child abuse, alcoholism, child death

Simply put, Martin Riggs is a mess of a human being. While most of the world sees a quirky personality, Southern charm, and a lack of fear, those closest often get unintentional glimpses of the severe damage beneath that facade.

It's possible Riggs wasn't right from the beginning, an acquaintance of his father's remarking that he had the same crazy look in his eyes. However, unlike his father, Riggs possesses empathy and kindness that balances the darkness and the rage inside of him. It's the rage that terrifies him the most after years of being on the receiving end of his father's temper. The family trait of addiction is also something that haunts Riggs, his need to soothe the sharp edges of pain with alcohol a familiar vice. While his father was a vicious drunk, Riggs tends to be more functional while drunk. Unless blackout drunk, when he's no stranger to waking up in odd places.

Spending time in the foster system as a teenager until he aged out, Riggs learned to not become attached and to travel light. He doesn't have much in the way of belongings, always ready to be on the move. Outside of surface affection, Riggs becomes uncomfortable around deeper displays of emotion. He doesn't quite know how to react to people, like his partner Murtaugh and his wife, caring about his well being and trying to bring him into their family. Riggs tries to throw up walls but once those are breached, reluctance becomes an undying loyalty. 

His time in the service left Riggs with PTSD, the loss of his brothers in arms and the guilt that came with something he carries with him from day to day. It was the loss of his wife and unborn son that pushed him to the edge though, Riggs wobbling precariously close to falling. His desire to have a family, to be a father, crushed so suddenly and so brutally left his heart and life in pieces. He felt he had nothing left and wanted nothing more than to join Miranda. He just couldn't do it himself. It's the catalyst that initially drove him to throw himself without thinking into life or death situations, no concern about what would happen if he didn't make it out. 

For all his issues, Riggs also possesses empathy, love, and loyalty for the people he lets into his life (or those who fight their way in.) There is nothing he won't do for those he cares about, including give his life for theirs. He especially has a soft spot for kids in bad situations, remembering his own childhood, and he treats them as young adults, earning their trust quicker than others.

Riggs is re-learning to live again, making mistakes along the way, taking steps back for every step forward, but for the first time he's trying to see tomorrow and the day after now that he has a family again, people who care about him. 

History:

The day his mother died, Riggs went from the average All-American small town teenager to bearing the full brunt of his father's drunken rages unchecked by her presence. While he found brief respite in the presence of friends, Nathan always found him again. Riggs learned when to stand his ground (not often) and when to hide, a skill that came in handy as a Navy SEAL, staying out of the sight of the enemy. The abuse continued to elevate, leaving him with a noticeable scar through one eyebrow and several visits from Child Protective Services. Then the day came when the beating almost killed him. If his best friend hadn't grabbed a rifle and shot Nathan through the cheek, a few more hits might have ended him right then and there.

Riggs spent the rest of his teenage years bouncing around to foster homes until he aged out at 18. Instead of heading to college, he chose to go into the Navy instead, choosing the SEALs in an attempt to prove he was better than the life he left behind, putting Texas in the rearview mirror as he served a few tours of duty.

When he finally left the service and returned home, he joined the El Paso Sheriffs Department, working Vice. His career as a SEAL served him well when it came to hunting down members of various cartels trying to make their mark in the country.

Then he met Miranda Delgado. LA born and raised, stuck in Texas for Christmas after a missed flight, she brought a light into Riggs' life that he was immediately drawn to. After the night he met her in a bar, it was all over. He was a man head over heels in love, wanting to be a better man for her, for the family they wanted together. His charm and humor quickly won over her family and months after their first meeting, the two were married. They bought their first home together in Texas and on Christmas Day, Miranda gave him a pregnancy test: he was going to be a father.

The day she was supposed to give birth, a truck running a red light put an end to the life he wanted so much. As if the loss didn't destroy Riggs enough, he later found out that it was no accident, but a hit by one of the cartels to send a message to their most powerful friend in Los Angeles. Her father, Ronnie Delgado, the district attorney.

It was Ronnie who brought Riggs to the LAPD, he and his wife trying to hold onto what they had left of their daughter in their son-in-law. Rumors flew about Riggs being protected from up above, but his drive to solve cases and quick wits brushed concerns aside that his place came from nepotism, not capabilities.

Riggs was partnered with Roger Murtaugh, newly returned to work after suffering a heart attack in the delivery room while his wife, Trish, gave birth to their third child. Initially, the two went head to head, Murtaugh convinced Riggs' wild ways would kill them both. Eventually, the two found their differences made for a more rounded partnership, both of them bringing skills to the table that the other lacked.

Terrifying, Riggs found himself in a position to gain a family again, the Murtaughs quickly adopting him and bringing him into the fold. He began a relationship with an old friend from home, Molly, and is testing the waters of fatherhood with her son, Ben. Unfortunately, with that new happiness, the desire to maybe once again live for something, it all couldn't go right.

The return of Nathan Riggs into his son's life, eventually walking free when his sentence is commuted, threatens to once again send Riggs' life into a tailspin.