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[theosymphany]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield Characters: Piers Nivans, Chris Redfield, The celestials Additional Tags: Celestial AU, origins story Summary:

Chris Redfield has always been a man with a mission, but how did it truly start? Piers Nivans has always been a man with a longing, but how will he find his resolution?

Photo by Patrick McManaman on Unsplash  

[theosymphany]

Luck

“Thank you again, for everything your Son did. For me. For his team. For the world.”

He sighed as he wrapped up his annual visits. He felt it was only right to show up. To acknowledge, to remember those who had remembered him when he longer remembered himself.

The years would add lines to their faces and more sadness in their eyes.

He too, is just another battered veteran who refused to quit, because he owes it to those who could no longer fight, to fight.

Wrapping up, he headed to the lake. He’s far from the ocean now, but he wanted to reflect.

Reflect on what it’s like to have met hell at its depths, and emerge again. Alive, whole.

Alone.

Reflect on whether it was pure luck he’s still here.

No. It wasn’t just luck. Others wanted him to still be here.

He stood at the shore, looking down at the dark waters.

Even in the waters he saw the silver on his temples. Lines on his eyes, his cheeks.

It’s been a while.

What would it be like to feel young again?

Relaxing his shoulders, he took a rock, aimed and sunk it right into the lake when he was trying to skip it across the waters.

He’d forgotten how he’d used to do that.

He threw another. And another.

It worked! It skipped for a moment.

Memories are coming back, like the times in his youth, when he’d try to impress Claire.

He threw the rock, looking at it skipping across the lake. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

He threw another. It didn’t skip so well.

He sat.

As he threw another, he heard another splash, as two rocks bounced, in a kind of short synchrony until they sank to the depths of the lake.

“You still had to be better at everything don’t you?” He said, still gazing over the waters.

Footsteps, somehow completely silent to him until now, headed towards him. An arm braced his shoulder as he sat.

Chris reached his arm around his shoulders, as he’d practiced so many times, pulling the man close, feeling the weight of his head resting on his shoulder as they sat side by side.

“I didn’t know if you were going to show.”

“I didn’t either. But I remembered this little speech…”

“One of mine?” Chris asked.

“Uh, actually, it was one of mine.”

“Here’s a man who’s far too in love with himself.”

“That’s not even half the love I have for you, but stop interrupting.”

“Oh, you’re going to lecture me again?”

“Well I kinda made myself the leading authority on not running away from your past, so-”

“Well you’re in the wrong place hotshot. This... ahem… is the present.”

“I… damnit.”

Chris smiled and celebrated his little success at making Piers falter. It’s hard to get the upper hand on him these days.

An elbow nudged him in his ribs. “Don’t you go all Master Sifu on me.”

“Well.” Chris said, proudly “I am after all, your mentor, your hero… it was meant to be me-”

“It’s us now.”  Piers had cut him off. “It’s been ten years. I’ve made my peace.”

“I love that about you, always so optimistic.” He squeezed Piers’ arm, feeling his strength and wholeness.

“We’re survivors Chris. We both are. I only learn from the best.”

Chris looked down, catching the spark of mirth in those dancing hazels.

He had to remember to breathe, let alone whatever banter he was going to volley with, because those eyes are only making him feel one thing.

That Chris Redfield is the luckiest man in the world.

[theosymphany]

Summary:

Captain Redfield of the BSAA leads another small mission after the local BSAA chapter received news of a mysterious mansion where reports of strange, vicious creatures were sited. The bad news, Captain doesn't have his usual team by his side. The good news, is that his Cleric companion Piers has joined him, together with two young hopefuls they found at short notice. What will this mansion hold, and will they find more leads to the strange whispers of death and the dark arts?

--    It’s soon my friend @nimrod262′s birthday, and as tradition demands, a gift fic :). Dan dons leathers, and Finn develops new powers. Enjoy!

[theosymphany]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield Characters: Chris Redfield, Piers Nivans, Andy Walker, Ben Airhart, Finn Macauley Additional Tags: Alpha Team shenanigans Summary:

Piers is in for a surprise when he found his name on the top of his Captain's daily 'To do' list.

[theosymphany]

Banter 403

Piers: What’s for dinner tonight? Chris: Hmmm.. Piers: What’s your favourite food? Chris: Uh…Pierogis. *Licks lips*. Piers: Why pierogis? Chris: *scratch heads* I just… *shrug*. They’re nice. Piers: Nobody’s favourite food is … nice. Chris: Well, it’s got all these stuffings, and flavours. Piers: *grins*. Chris: Fine.. It reminds me of uh, you know, Piers, and orgies. Piers: *pouts*. You like orgies with .. me? Chris: Well, not like a real orgy, just like you and I. Or me with like many of you… Piers: You’re hard aren’t you. Chris: You’re literally talking about my favourite things. Piers: It’s orr-GHI not orr-GEE. Chris: Yes to orgie. *Adjust pants*. Piers: ORR-GHI!

[theosymphany]

Gah, all sorts of cute in an ragey hankey twisty way. Go get ‘em Cap.

The Hit

Image:  You and I (Nivanfield) by tuzkiyoushi, here at deviantart.  My thanks.

Summary:  Valentine’s Day. How do you say ‘I love you’ or do you wait until you’re asked?  It seems Chris has no trouble making friends, whilst a lonely Piers is his own worst enemy. So who’s hitting on who? And is it one hit … or two? A Valentine’s Day short. 

The Hit

Thursday 13th, 07:00 hours, and the chow hall of the sprawling BSSA base in Williamsport P.A. was full. Most of the tables were noisy and crowded. One in particular stood out. Alpha team’s.

Unlike the other SOUs, Alpha always ran first, then breakfasted. As a consequence they always got the lest favorite tables, the ones furthest away from the servery, in the darkest corner of the hall. But that didn’t mean they were the quietest. As usual, Chris Redfield had joined his enlisted men, and their banter boomed around the room as they started their first meal of the day whilst most of the other teams were finishing theirs.

Chris poked his team sergeant in the chest and grinned. “Any slower on the morning run, Andy, and I’ll have to transfer you to Echo team.”

“Hey! I was keeping Carl company! You know, the ol’ buddy system, like you taught us!” Andy Walker feigned hurt.

Carl Alfonso raised his hands feigning blamelessness. “Don’t involve me, Sarge. I thought I was the one keeping you company!”

“Shuddup squealer!” Andy glowered at his erstwhile partner in crime.

“Ha, ha, ha! You guys!” Chris laughed aloud as he put a large arm around Ben Airhart’s shoulder. “By the way, good work this morning, Ben.”

Ben blushed. “Thanks, Cap.”

“I saw you pacing Piers. How’s my new No.2 coming along?”

Keep reading

[theosymphany]

Banter 402

Finn: So you know like how the LT has hazel eyes? Danny: Uh, yeah? Finn: Does he have hazel nuts? Danny: *spits drink* Finn: Are you alright? Danny: *Cough* Yeah. Yeah. Uh. They’re pretty. Finn: His eyes? Danny: I’m not telling. *cough* *cough*. Finn: Hmmm. I know that look. Finn: *pause* So uh, you have blue eyes right? Danny: Yes I do! Finn: They’re pretty too. Danny: Uh, thanks? Finn: Do you have blue balls? Danny: Finn! Not unless you gonna… Finn: I’m gonna need those handcuffs again… Danny: Wait! Ohhhhh.

[theosymphany]

Christmas cums close

A little Chrismas tale. Smut.

Sunlight peeks from the edge of the curtains. Winter is still in full swing. The room is chilly, but under the covers, Piers is warmed by his personal heater.

Loving hands caress his chest, running lightly down his abs, and the sides.

Piers groaned his protest, knowing what they’re going to do next.

No! He was too late. Squirming in reflex as Chris tickled him on the side. He really should learn not to react but he couldn’t help it.

Naughty hands run back up him, warm, strong hands latched over his chest, thumbs circling his nipples.

He groaned again, less agitated, more inviting.

He is enveloped by warmth, and feel the hard body against him as the arms of steel crushed him against the hairy chest.

Where a pole of steel also laid along his back. Piers grounded back, hearing a satisfying grunt behind him.

He loved being little spoon. To be totally wrapped by his muscle hulk of a partner when he wakes is of the things he can’t give up anymore.

Until they swap and he plays big spoon anyway. That’s also fun. Chris’ ass has this fine curve that starts from his waist and…

“Morning stud. Happy Christmas.” He heard him whisper in that low, raspy morning voice of his.

“Morning Father Christmas.” He said, still trying not to open his eyes.

“Can I unwrap this present?” Fingers teased at his underwear, digging into his buns, teasing them down…

“I thought Santa gives gifts, not open them.”

“Well, well, I hear you’ve been a naughty boy, so I’m going to stuff you stocking with a lump of…”

“…Cock”.

“I was going to say prime rib but OK. My boy IS naughty.” Hands have wandered to Piers’ cock and gave his balls a heft.

“Ugh, but we have such a big day, we gotta get ready with the food and the travel and the gifts and.”

“Shhhhh.”

Warm lips kissed the nape of his neck above his shoulders. Abrasive bearded hairs tickled that sensitive spot of his. The spot he often hid under a shemagh.

“We should get started early then.” Chris said, grinding his hips into him.

“But..”

“You’ll only complain more after you’ve eaten too much and suddenly not in the mood. Let’s get this turkey stuffed and basted.”

“You don’t get to call me a turkey mister.”

“I can and I’ll roast your chestnuts by an open fire too.”

“Try that and I’ll jingle your bells.”

“Love it, I dare ya, jingle me all the way. Ride me like a reindeer.”

“Sleigh me.”

The ridiculousness of it all have the men laughing and play fighting at this point.

“Nor really Piers, Santa needs to cum to town, needs a little Chrismas right this very minute.”

“Bloody Santa and his quest to empty his sack of goodies.”

“Haha you know you love it Piers, you can’t get enough of the North Pole.”

Piers groaned while Chris laughed heartily. “More like the Polar Express. Uh Polar Bear Express.”

“Grrrrr.. I mean I can make it a quickie, can’t take that long going down the chimney.” Impatient hands caress Piers’ butt while the ‘North pole’ grinds rhythmically against his back.

“Woof! Not the right mental image babe.”

Chris grunted. “It’s doing things to me all the same. I mean you. I mean fuck you’re hot.”

“Because Chris-mas only comes once per year?”

“I fucking hope not, you’re a danger to my sperm levels. I’m so fucking horny for you.”

“Like reindeer horny?”

“Fuck no Piers stop being such a tease. And being so damn good at it. I’ve cotton on to you.”

Piers smiled, Chris still gets himself worked up so easily. “I could throw you a few carrots if you behave.”

“No need stud, this is harder and warmer than any carrot.” Fingers caress and grope the firm muscled butt of his.

“All red tipped and shiny, you could almost say it glowed.”

“Mmm yeah, I’ll make your insides glow.” He’s started putting pressure on him.

“Fuck yeah Chris. Go be a Prancer to my Vixen.”

It should be familiar by now, but each time Chris enters him it still makes him giddy, and bewildered, and wanting, all again. He hopes he never gets used to it.

Muscled arms crush him, and their words fade into more primal grunts as the room fills with orderly slaps.

Pa rum pum pum pum.

Rum pum pum pum

Rum pum pum pum.

Until they cum.

[theosymphany]

Thank you Nim, this is so sweet and pushes my buttons again. Love the little details and what is alpha team without a whole lot of fun, I mean puns. I have the title of the next installment already. Tee hee.

Happy Birthday @theosymphany​.  Inspired by your ´Blow´

“Finnenson”  Wonderful image drawn especially by Fonseca_V.  Thanks Victor.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield, Finn Macauley/Original Character(s), Finn Macauley/Danny Svenson Characters: Finn Macauley, Danny Svenson, Chris Redfield, Piers Nivans, Andy Walker, Carl Alfonso, Ben Airhart Additional Tags: Blow Job, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Awkward Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Military Police, Sentry Hut, Alpha Team, BSAA, Letter to Gran, Finn writes, Fluff and Smutt, Birthday, theosymphany - Freeform, Nivanfield writing, short one-off

A birthday one-off for @theosymphany​.   Happy Birthday, Theo!

Summary:  Alpha Team Operator, Finn Macauley, writes to his Gran, updating her on progress in his blossoming relationship with military policeman, Danny Svenson. Typically, Finn is muddling through in his own inimitable way. Things would probably have gone a lot more smoothly without his Captain’s and the team’s intervention, or would they? And as for Chris and Piers’ relationship - perhaps they need to ask Finn for advice?

[theosymphany]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Finn Macauley/Original Character(s), Finn Macauley/Danny Svenson Characters: Finn Macauley, Danny Svenson Additional Tags: Checkpoint, Military Police, Blow Job, First Time Blow Jobs Summary:

Driving back Captain Redfield's vehicle after a night at the pub, the young Finn Macauley was stopped at the checkpoint by one Corporal Svenson. Finn got through it as always with the advice of his Gran. She has a solution for everything. Finn Macauley is a character in the Resident Evil gameverse. Danny Svenson is the creation of writing great @nimrod262, thanks for the loan and I wish you a happy birthday!

[theosymphany]

Banter 381 - Memorial Day

Letter & Postscript (by Theosymphany & Nimrod262)

When @theosymphany posted his Banter 381, it moved me to pen a postscript. But ‘stuff’ happened, and I never posted it. So here they both are, together at last, just like Chris and Piers:

Hey Merah,

How’re you doing? It’s… been ages since I wrote. I know. Sorry. How terrible of me, but hey, I’m trying now. It’s Memorial Day, here in the US anyway. I know you guys don’t do that at Far East branch. It’s a struggle honestly. Although there are many days I just want to forget it all, I know it’s incredibly selfish if I did that and not try, even for a day, to remember the others that could have been here, but aren’t. Football’s on, and people are out partying but I won’t. Yes, it hurts, and I’m in pain trying to remember, but at least I’m still here.

It could have been you here.

No, I hear you. I know exactly what you would have said. I’m quite alright. I’m making the most of my days. I spent the day with Chris. We sent out the cards to the families a few days ago. I made sure he put aside time to sign them all. It’s one of the more heartfelt and gut-wrenching parts of our job, but we have a good crew. Saw many of them in a simple service at the chapel. Not many dry eyes in that service. Yeah, thankfully neither Chris or I needed to do speeches this time. A couple of the young widowers, men and women spoke or sang a tribute. It was a simple but fitting way to have them be part of it all.

Chris and I took a walk through the woods in the afternoon. He needed the activity and I needed the sun. Exercise was always good. We didn’t say much, but we held hands and walked together after fording the stream. I know it’s weird saying it, but his hand always feels good in mine. Protective. Certain. We sat and listened to the stream rushing by in a nice patch of sun. I sat in the Vee of his legs and he held me. You’d have been proud. We’re going real strong. Most of that awkwardness I kept telling you about was gone. Chris really has a fun goofy side when he lets his guard down or isn’t angry about things. I’ve been working on getting him to smile more. He has a few smile lines on his face at least. Me? I’m turning 30 in a few months! I walk around on base and the kids just seem so young, straight outta high school or something. Hard to think that was us back then. Time really does fly.

Six years now Merah. I really wish you’d been all part of it all, but hey I know heaven is pretty neat. I did almost join you there. I caught up with Dr Kaison a while ago. He’s been hiding from the media after publishing a bunch of their research with Rebecca. Says if this goes on he’d have to be an agent like you and leave the lab behind. I mean he’d be hopeless with a gun, but he’d be good with a knife and having another medic ain’t too bad. He says he turned down a professorship offer stateside. He’s not chasing the academic path anymore and says our labs are better funded anyway. Jill is pretty pleased with that, though I’m sure Rebecca twisted his arm a bit, or a lot.

Chris says hi and he misses you. Says he doesn’t have excuses to try weird Asian noodle joints anymore. Truth is he keeps taking me to my favorite places that we never get to the new ones! Alas, can’t complain if he keeps me fed and sated, and probably fat if I didn’t have work to keep me on my toes. I’m still working with Cerberus. I sat them down the other day and instead of another crazy workout we talked. I talked about loss, and why I’m here. I told them about you and how their most despised officer wouldn’t have been around if my fellow hard-ass partner didn’t take it upon herself to defy fate. I spoke about the two partners I had on duty. Of how you saved my life, and I saved Chris’s. The crew were pretty spooked about that, but I make no pretense we’re here to rub egos and sing Kumbaya. On the frontlines it’s dangerous shit. Luck, training and an eye out for each other is all we got. Maybe I do take after Chris after all, minus the inspirational Dadfield stuff. I tell my boys they go hard or go home in a box. Don’t tell him I said that.

It’s good to write. Exactly what I needed today. Thanks for always being there and listening. You’re a friend for life. Gonna sit with Chris a bit. He’s quiet and doesn’t cope well with thoughts on his own. He’s supposed to be trying to write his book but he’s often sitting their pen in mouth staring in space. Ah well. He’ll get round to it when he does.

Love you.

Piers.

************

Piers carefully pressed the letter onto the blotting pad. Then he folded the letter neatly, took out an envelope from the side drawer, and put the letter inside it. On the front of the envelope he wrote Merah Biji, and beneath that, in the same neat, precise hand, May 28th, 2018 (Memorial Day)

He slowly screwed the cap back on his fountain pen, placing it in it’s customary position in the well on the top of his desk. Then he pressed the envelope down on the plotting paper and placed it in a second drawer, where it joined the many others that would never to be posted. And it was then that Piers began to feel the first stirrings of trouble.

Careful, neat, precise, customary. Duty done, honor served, guilt assuaged, emotions mastered. And for a brief moment Piers hated himself, the man who told his crew to go in hard. The man who was, perhaps, the ultimate hard-ass himself. He wanted to scream, throw the pen against the wall, tear the letters into shreds until his fingers bled and the blotting paper turned crimson … until … until he proved to himself he was flesh and blood, not some cold, heartless automaton. Then just as quickly the cool, ruthless logic returned and started to impose order on the potential chaos. And that’s when Piers Nivans realized that half of him wanted to cry, and that the other half wouldn’t let him. He had to grip the desk as he stood up, his body was shaking so much. He looked askance at the white knuckles.

Chris was sat at his own desk, chewing absentmindedly on the end of his biro. He’d long since stopped staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. His eyes were now focussed through and beyond it. Looking for something, anything, that would somehow magically materialize as words on the page. He didn’t expect to find them. The harder he looked, the more the likelihood decreased. The sheet of paper, like his mind, remained stubbornly empty. But though his gaze was distant, his other senses remained alert, keen. Motion, there, to his right.

“Ah, you done now Ace? I could do with your help. I was gonna’ start with chapter one, but then I remembered I don’t even have a title. Any suggestions?”

Piers didn’t answer.

“Ace, are you alright? You look kinda …”

The pale face crumpled and the slender arms reached out. “Chris…”

Chris stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. “Piers! Piers, what is it? Come here. Oh Babe, what’s wrong?” He enveloped his partner in tight embrace.

“Chris … can … can I cry? Will you mind?”

“Mind? Of course not Baby, better out than in, you taught me that. Come on now, let it all go.”

Piers didn’t remember Chris picking him up in his arms, didn’t remember being carried to the bedroom or being undressed. The tears and the sobs blotted out those memories. What he did remember were the strong hands that held him throughout the night, the feeling of protection they gave, of certainty that things would get better.

And so Piers cried, and Chris cried with him, but the embrace never faltered, not once. Neither did the soothing words and tender kisses. Chris didn’t know exactly why Piers was upset. He had his suspicions, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was being there, being supportive, and returning the love his partner always gave him so freely.

Piers didn’t remember when he stopped crying, or when he fell asleep. But when he awoke he was still in Chris’ arms. A craggy face smiled back at him.“

"You Ok now?”

“Yeah, thanks … Um, sorry, for last night, emotions caught me of guard. Memorial Day, writing to Merah. It brought back so many memories. Something snapped. I let myself down.”

“No you didn’t Piers. You made yourself stronger. These last few years you’ve helped me to deal with my emotions, not keep them bottled up. And you’ve done the opposite. You’ve been so focussed on me, you’ve forgotten to look after yourself, something had to give.”

“You think?”

“I know. Been there, seen the movie, written the book … well, not quite yet … That’s still a work in progress. Ha!”

“Will you help me? You know, talk it through? All those memories?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Piers. Now you get a shower whilst I get breakfast. Then we’ll go for a walk and a chat, eh?”

“Down to the stream? I like it there.”

“So do I. But what I really like is the holding hands part when we get there.”

“You’re good at that.”

“You too, my love. And one day, in the far-off future, times like this will be our memories. Good ones.”

[theosymphany]

You kind of have to be a nimrod connoisseur to find the little references but cowboys always have a special place. What a journey, well done and grats to the couple :’) 

Best Laid Plans . . .

Image by the talented tuzkiyoushi, here at deviantart.  My thanks as ever!

Best Laid Plans … a series of (mainly) humorous vignettes for #July1stNivanfieldDay

It’s 2018. Piers Nivans has been the Director of the NAB BSAA for less than a year, and Chris Redfield, his Operations Director. You might think they would plan things together. Like they do most things. But when it comes to making the second biggest decision in their lives (after becoming partners), they’ve decided to go it alone, in secret. Cue numerous attacks of stubbornness, wounded, not to say injured, pride, misread emotions and misheard commands. Will it be alright on the day? Will there even be a day? Read on:

1. Everyone’s got a ‘genda to hide

Piers’ aide, newly promoted sergeant 'Tom’ Thomas, entered the Director’s office carrying the large 'planning’ diary under one arm.

“Hello Tom, what can I do for you?”

“Captain, Sir, it’s time to decide the details for the next annual BSAA Founder’s Conference and Gala Ball.”

“It is?”

“Yes Sir.”

“But we’ve only just had one. My poor feet are still recovering from Chris deciding he wanted to lead all night.”

“Oh!” the tall, rangy sergeant blushed at the amount of personal information. “Uh, anyway, these things have a long, ah, lead time apparently. If you’ll forgive the expression. Like around a year.”

“And how does that affect me? I’m the Director of the NAB, not a founder.” Piers arched one latte eyebrow.

“Er, you’re the one who gets to decide, Sir.”

“Me? Ex-Director Dee never said anything about this! Why don’t the founders do it?”

“Um, well, I spoke to Mike … Mr Lugano that is, and he said they could never agree, there were too many agendas.”

“Hidden ones?”

“He didn’t specify what kind of agendas, Sir. He just said that the only thing they could agree on was that the Director NAB should get to decide.”

Piers’ mind raced, but only for a few seconds. “OK, decision made. Next year it’s going to be held in San Diego.”

“Er, San Diego Sir?” Tom sounded unsure.

Keep reading

[theosymphany]

Oil check? Spit shine? Manual handling? Piers is your man. Vroom vroom

Banter 374 . . . and three quarters - Greased Lightning.

Back in 2018, @theosymphany posted Banter 374, an hilarious ‘Cheesy porno intro.. garage Chris edition.’ At the time, I wrote ’Banter 374…and a half’ as a follow-up. Well, time has moved on, and Chris now has an electric vehicle. Can Piers handle it?

Chris goes green, Piers gets out the lube. More saucy innuendo in the continuing adventures of Petrol Head and Grease Monkey:

Chris walks in to Piers’ garage, all he can see is a pair of shapely, booted calves, under a car.

Chris: Hey, Mr Mechanic, is that you? Piers: Hi, Petrol Head! *A creeper trolley rolls out from under the car* Long time no see. How you doin’? Chris: All the better for seeing you. I thought I recognized those boots. Nice legs. Piers: Made for crawling, underneath things. *smirks* Chris: I’ve missed you. Have you been away lately? Piers: Yeah, on a course. All about these bad boys. *pats car’s hood - suggestively* Chris: Mmm, interesting. *frowns* Piers: Say, you look down! Problems? Chris: Tell me about it! Big Time! Piers: Oh … Chris: No, I really mean 'tell me about it’. I don’t understand. Piers: Um, don’t understand what? Chris: Well, am I AC … *looks around furtively, then whispers* … or DC? Piers: Ah, that kind of problem. *taps pert, button nose* I’ve been getting that a lot recently. I learnt about it on the course. You see, most people don’t know what polarity they are. Especially the mature guys, like you … Chris: Mature? Piers: … Uh, macho. They don’t like to talk about that kind of stuff. In case the other guys laugh. But believe me, most are DC, whether they know it or not. Chris: Er, and macho me? Can you tell? Piers: You’re DC, trust me. Chris: You sure? I mean, I don’t wanna’ touch it if it’s gonna’ go off bang in my hand! Piers: Heh, heh … no, that’s my job. What are you driving now? Chris: It’s electric, Japanese … a Priapus? Piers: That sounds about right. As DC as it gets. Chris: I miss having four-strokes. Even two would be something these days. It just does it’s own thing, with no help from me. Can you have a look? I’m desperate. It’s out in front right now. Piers: It certainly is from where I’m standing. Chris: Pardon? Piers: Uh, sure, just let me clean my hands first … *looks for oily rag* Chris: No, don’t bother, please. It needs some hand prints over it. Otherwise it just sits in there, all shiny and pristine … and untouched. Gah! It’s embarrassing, not knowing what’s going on under your own hood. Piers: And we don’t want that. Ok, Sir, pop it open for me … Oh, boy, I can see what the problem is straight away. *leans into engine bay, fiddles, wiggles butt* Chris: Oooh, ahh! You do? Um, you wanna check again? You know, just to make sure? Piers: It’s alright, I passed the course, scored well on customer satisfaction. Chris: Well I’ve never had any complaints. *grins* Piers: Thanks. Now, see these two big nuts, underneath? They’re your terminals. Chris: Uh-huh. Piers: All your Oomph goes through them. Chris: All of it? Piers: Pretty much. They get rusty if they’re not lubed regularly. *squirts some lubricant* Chris: Whoa, say what? I was distracted. Piers: Your nuts. Less lube, less Oomph. Gotta’ keep 'em greased-up. Chris: But only once a year? It doesn’t seem enough. Piers: Just call in, whenever you’re passing. Chris: I live next door. Piers: Then I’ll be seeing a lot more of you. And your nuts. I can grease and tighten these babymakers in a few minutes. All part of the service. Chris: Babymakers? Piers: It’s, uh, what we professionals call 'em, in the trade. You got your male and female connectors, and now … Chris: … Babymakers. I see. Seems logical. Mmm, it feels better already. It sorta’ purrs when it’s happy. Piers: Not quite the same as having the old suck, squeeze, bang, blow, though, is it? Chris: Nah, those times are gone, more’s the pity. I miss having a hot muffler. Gotta’ be green, these days. Eco-friendly and all that bull. *makes jazz hands* Piers: Yeah, but if you keep it regularly serviced, it will give you years more service, and protect the environment. Chris: You mean that? Piers: Sure. We dispose of all your spent material, in-house. Nothing’s wasted these days! Chris: That’s a big comfort. Piers: That’s a lot of spent material. *licks lips* Oops, I got some grease on your dipole. Here, let me wipe it off. Chris: No, leave it. That’s my badge of honor. Say’s I’ve been serviced, by a qualified grease monkey, and that I’m ecologically friendly too. Piers: Uh, sorry, but it looks bad, you leaving here like that. Just a little spit on this cloth and a little rub down. *spit, rub* There, all part of the customer experience. *winks* Clean as a new whistle, and twice as shiny. I bet it plays a nice tune. Chris: It’s, er, all about the way you blow, apparently. Piers: Let me try again then. *purses lips* Chris: Whoooo Hooo! … Um, is this all on account? Piers: House rules. Every customer has to leave the premises fully charged. Chris: I see. In which case, where do I plug this in? *holds out his male connector*

[theosymphany]

Ah this is cute. All this talk of wood and buns and performance and yet no performance anxiety! Glad to see a different side of both. Piers is the ever reluctant frontman, though he just excels so much he shine wherever they go.

The Man in Black

Image above by unknown artist - but thank you anyway.  🙂

Black, it’s the ‘new’ gray and green for some. Well, at least it is for Chris Redfield. As for Piers Nivans, he’d prefer to remain camouflaged.

October, 2023.

The North American Branch of the BSAA was no more. The old base, just a few miles outside the town of Williamsport, PA, was now a regional airport, the housing and school civilianized, and the hospital now a centre of excellence for the treatment and rehabilitation of injured service personnel. It was run by husbands and doctors, Finn and Danny Macauley-Svenson. Most of their former team mates on Alpha SOU had dispersed. Only Andy Walker remained, and two others, Chris Redfield and Piers Nivans. But although the war against bioterrorism had been won, they still had battles to fight, both personal and public.

Normally reserved when out and about, Chris and Piers were slowly adjusting to life as civilians. But starting a lumber business in the woods bequeathed to them by a grateful president, had suddenly placed them in the public eye. Which is not to say people didn’t know who they were.

Or did they?

On a bitterly cold, autumnal Friday, in a shop near the centre of town, one man certainly wasn’t sure.

Don’s Musical Emporium was famous for seeming much larger inside than out. Once through the front door and past the big mahogany counter, numerous aisles ran off here and there. It was like a labyrinth. CD’s, sheet music and instruments, speakers and amplifiers. Everything had its place, and the owner, Don Flats, knew them all. He also knew all his customers. Well, at least he thought he did, But he didn’t recognize the big man dressed all in black who was now wandering around the isles, and sighing. Sighing a lot. Every few paces he would stop, scratch his head, pick something up, peer at it closely, then put it back again and sigh, heavily. He looked like the sort of guy who could handle himself in most any situation, but he was obviously in trouble now. Don ambled over to him.

“Hi there, can I help you?”

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[theosymphany]

Up close, and personal

Only one thing gets more personal than Chris Redfield for Piers Nivans, his other half. Or is it himself?  A Nivanfeels short, and follow up to my earlier tale, ’Enhanced’.

I don’t know who the artist above is, but it’s a great image.  My thanks.

Up close, and personal

In the dawn’s light, Piers Nivans studied the sleeping face opposite his. Down to the minutest degree. Tiny details that only a trained sniper would spot.

Chris Redfield was, at that moment, up close, and very, very personal.

The larger pores in the skin around his nose contrasted with the smaller ones of his cheeks. Under the stubble of his beard, Chris’ skin was almost blue, so close were the blood vessels to the surface. His ears, however, were ruddier in hue, paler pink along their edges, the lobes almost translucent. The natural downturn of his lips, normally accentuated by the downward creases in his face, from his eyes, nose and mouth, was softened in sleep. And those eyes, normally hooded under heavy brows, now revealed even smaller folds and greases in their lids, closed shut in slumber. Unlike the open mouth. Usually so firm, but now slack, and drooling down the bristled cheek below.

Piers had always thought it a handsome face, very handsome. Dependable. The face of a loyal partner, someone you’d want alongside you in a fight. But much more than that, so much more. True, there was a masculine ruggedness about it, a strength born of physical prowess. But also something else, less obvious to the eye, and more to the heart - born of adversity. Sure, the scars on his body were the visible symbols of a life of hardship. But those creases, etched deep into that handsome face, told of inner struggles every bit as violent as the physical ones. Mental scars seared in to his very soul, the way the visible ones were carved into flesh. And that’s why Piers loved him. Not through pity, that kind of love would never have been accepted, or reciprocated. It was through the need for love itself. Because this shy, taciturn man, who kept his emotions so deeply buried, needed love. Indeed, deserved it. That was Piers’ purpose in life. And, apart from Chris’ sister, Claire, the only person who was allowed to show it. It had been both men’s salvation. And that would make it enduring. For as long as each of them drew breath.

All these thoughts jostled for attention in Piers’ mind. They always did. But for now, he decided to concentrate on the physical reality. The seen, rather than the unseen. Before his beloved Captain awoke, and the moment was lost. Even Piers himself had lost count of the times he’d studied the sleeping man’s body. Because every time felt like the first. That feeling of heart in mouth, pulse racing. The electrifying fear that it might soon be lost, the thrill of anticipation that, with care and love, it wouldn’t. That it would last for ever.

Though more lined now than when he’d first glimpsed it, all those years ago, it continued to excite him, stirred wonderful feelings in his gut, his heart, and in his loins.

“Oh, my sweet Captain. You’re still so beautiful.” Piers whispered.

“Hmm, yes he is. You chose well.” agreed the familiar voice, now speaking inside Piers’ head.”

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[theosymphany]

Banter 402

Finn: Tell me a joke about the Captain, Andy. Andy: Hmm, well, there’s this time I caught Captain at the bar. He’d been drinkin’, real sullen. He’d be sighing and drinking away and he’d gather us lads round and tell us a story. See this badge here lad? Me long service medals. I spent me youth chasing down Umbrella, busting down zombies, squashing bioterrorism, but do they call me Chris the zombie hunter? NO! See this patch on my sleeve? BSAA? Aye, I built it too. Found the founders, trained and picked my men from a bunch of pussies to the best of the best. But do they call me Chris the Founding Father? NO! See these scars on my arm? Got them getting thrown out of a window by Wesker. I spent years hunting down that man, rescued my partner, turned him to a pile of pathetic ash. But do they call me the Wesker terminator? NO! But you punch one boulder!… Finn: *mouth agape* Finn: What did they call him? Andy: That’s the punch line idiot! *geddit*? Punch? Finn: I know this Irish joke, it doesn’t end that way! Andy: I’m not telling that joke! I’m telling my joke! Finn: But what did Captain fuck? Andy: *frustrated* Dumb rookies with horns, apparently! Finn: Did the LT have horns back in the days?

[theosymphany]

That’s amazing successor in theme and tone. Thank you so much!

Legacy in the sand

Hand in Hand by fellow Nivanfield fan, the talented Lito Perezito, here on deviantart. Just perfect, thank you.

@theosymphany​ and I often find inspiration in one another’s stories. Prequels, sequels, homages, the more the merrier!  And so it was when I read his recent tale, ‘In the snow’. I was already working up another short entitled 'Legacy’, and that formed the bones on which to hang this sequel - Legacy in the sand. It also sees the re-appearance of Mick, the Ozzie surfer, another collaborative effort from earlier times. My thanks as ever, Theo. Nim

April 4th, 2023, Bells Beach, Surf Coast Shire, Victoria, Australia:

The sun had barely risen as the two men parked-up their rental jeep at the northern end of the car park. Alongside the only other vehicle there, an old 60’s VW Kombi, the iconic surfer’s van. This one had obviously been lovingly restored and maintained.

The younger of the two ran an expert hand over the van’s gleaming red and white paintwork.

“Good job.”

“You can inspect it later.” said the older man. “Let’s find Micky first. What time is it?”

“6:30 local.”

“I mean the real time!”

“14:30 Eastern Standard Time.”

“When’s my birthday? Have I missed it?”

“No, it’s today, the 4th.” replied Piers Nivans, patiently.

"But it’s tomorrow here.” Chris Redfield whined.

“Look, we’ve already been here three days. We’re in Australia now. It’s today, trust me! In fact, your birthday will be 16 hours early.”

“Well I think it was yesterday!”

Piers rolled his eyes.  "Chris, how did you ever get into the Air Force?“

"With great difficulty. It was getting thrown out that was easy. Anyway, what’s that got to do with which day it is?”

“Stop grumbling. C'mon Birthday Bear, this way.”

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