#theres always going to be that subconscious fear that they will one day snap and betray him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shadedrose01 · 4 years ago

Text

Monster

Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Tags: Time Travel, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Character Death Discussed, Canonical Character Death, Its not shown tho, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure

Prompts: “2029, that’s not a real year” / time travel / future au

Notes: HAPPY PARKNER WEEK 2020 EVERYBODY!! Im so excited for this, and I hope you guys are too! We're starting off with a fic that's more irondad with Harley than parkner, oops 😅 BUT most of the rest of the week is allll parkner. Either way, I hope you all enjoy!! 💞💞

Read on ao3 here!

The tools he was subconsciously fidgeting with fall to the floor with a few loud bangs, and theres a quick thought of "oh shit, Jax" before its gone and the overwhelming reality of his situation smacks him in the face and floods his mind. This, this can't be real, he reasons, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped, his vision blurry from sudden tears as he stares at the hologram in front of his own two eyes. Blinks, ignoring the tracks that run down his cheeks, rubs his eyes hard, checks again. Because it can't be true, but the hologram still says "successful", still shows the 99.73% chance of working, still gleams in a bright green glow and illumates the entire room.

He releases a shuttering breath, takes a wobbly step back on legs that feel like they'll give out at any second, grasps on tightly to the table beside him to hold him upright as his gaze is still locked into the image still in front of him, still existent, still real even though it couldn't be, it was too good to be true, but it was.

He places his free hand hand over his mouth, his lips pulling at his cheeks as his smiles so unbelievably wide, tears slipping into his mouth unbeknownst to him because- he did it. He really did it.

Harley had found a way to recreate time travel. He had his chance.

Eleven years ago, Harley had disappeared into ashes and dust, had died along with half of the entire planet, the entire universe. Six years ago, he had returned, lost and confused, only to find his house in shambles, his mother dead and that Tony Stark- the man that had saved his life once upon a time- had done it again, along with everyone else by snapping the infinity stones and bringing everyone back, losing his own life in the process. A few days after that, he was called by Pepper Potts herself- or, Pepper Stark now, he later discovers- to tell him the news, and personally invite him to his funeral. A few weeks, and he was on a plane, then in a car, then surrounded by people, heroes in which he didn't know, seemingly the only non-powered kid there, outside of Tony Stark's daughter.

Six years ago, Harley Keener met one Peter Parker, and everything fell into place. Everything that was once dark, cloudy, uncertain after a whole five years of being gone, was now bright, sunny, and hopeful. They were at a funeral, sure, but Harley just knew that they were meant to be. They just clicked, and as the days, weeks, months, and years went on, they had grown together. First through their grief, then their confusion, their bitterness, fustration and anger at a world that had moved on without them, then through their connection, their love. They had talked through messages and even hand written letters when they were 16, 17, they had went to university together when they were 18, 19, moved in together when they were 20, 21, and adopted their Jackson, or Jax as they called him, when they were 22, 23. They were soulmates since the moment they met, had found each other when they needed each other most, and Harley had always said, always known that it was Tony who had put them together, who had put them in the same place and gifted them with the other, and Harley couldn't have been more thankful.

And yet... Harley couldn't get this stupid idea out of his head. He had gotten it the first year after, when he had drank away his sorrows and clambered to the lab, throwing things out of the closet, Tony's closet in a fit of passion, of agony and loss, until he had stumbled upon two glass tubes full of a vibrant red liquid and had frozen solid, like a deer in the headlights, an idea, a plan forming in his head. He had scribbled down everything he could think of, he drew what he remembered of the way the time portal had looked, had rambled to Peter about once he had come home from his patrol- his coping mechanism of the time- trying to think of ways to recreate the very time machine Tony had recreated to go back to retrieve the stones, only instead of getting stones, they'd be saving him, saving Tonys life and it would be great.

But, then he remembers how Peter had shut it down then and there, how upset the other man had gotten, thinking Harley was insane, telling him of all the things that could go wrong, of how it could change the entire outcome of the universe, and then, once he recognized how drunk Harley truly was, had dragged him to bed and given him an ultimatum in the morning, had told him to forget the idea in the morning, or else they were over. And Harley had forgotten about it for a while, had put it into the back of his mind and tried to focus on the here and the now, tried to focus on their relationship, on Peter, on his kid, on their lives... but he just couldn't get it out of his mind. Not completely. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch, that just grew more and more itchy the longer he ignored it. When he had proposed to Peter underneath the stars, at a candlelight dinner, and they had called all of their family afterwards, he had felt a pang in his heart. When he had gotten married to the man of his dreams in the forest, surrounded by their family and friends, he had ached, knowing Tony would've been in the front seat, probably crying like a baby, even though he'd never admit it. When they had adopted little Jax, and gotten to hold their baby for the first time, Harley had yearned, aching for the father figure in his life to help give him advice, to help tell him what to do, to be there at all. Even though Tony and Harley hasn't been close before everything, he had always wanted Tony to be there for these steps of his life, and he knew, knew that Tony had wanted it too. He wanted to rant to him about his crush, wanted to ask for his hand, wanted him to walk him down the aisle, wanted him to teach him how to be a dad, wanted to tell him all about Jax and his quirks, his first steps, "He's babbling now, Tony, it's the cutest sound you'll ever hear!" and he just...

He hears footsteps walking down the hall, and Harley's breath hicks. His gaze shifts to the two smaller tubes on full display on his desk, just beside the reactor for Iron Lad suit that he had upgraded for this exact situation, just in case this moment ever happened. He hears Peter call his name, sounding a little worried, and his gut drops, his heart beating like stallion galloping in an open field. He doesn't think as he grabs the reactor, sticking it to his chest and pressing it, feeling the nanites fall into place over his skin as he also grabs the tubes, putting one into the canister and the other into a holding area, for his way back, before racing to the platform and hovering his finger over the button, the system already set to bring him back to April 15th, 2023.

He knew Peter would be upset, and might hate him, might leave him for this but... he had a chance, and he just couldn't let it go. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels more liquid slip down his cheeks, silently begs for forgiveness before pushing the button just as his helmet falls in front of his face, Peter's face, full of unbridled fear being the last thing he sees, a scream of his name being the last thing he hears before he shrinks, collapsing again and again as he weaves through tunnels of nothing, of time, he assumes, his eyes narrowing and his teeth clenching as his body is bashed around by the wind and speed of his decent, until suddenly he's on the ground again, on all fours, his hands and feet grabbing onto dirt and surrounded by dust particles floating in the air. Harley gasps, panting out fast breathes as he sits up, and turns to look behind him, his mask retracting instinctively as he sees the ruins of the Avengers Compound, and loses his breath again.

He's here, holy shit, he's here, he's doing this, oh my god Peter was going to kill him.

His head whips around as he hears a loud yell, multiple yells, and then screaming, sounds of weapons clashing and fists thumping, people fighting, and it brings him right back into his reality, his helmet returning over his face as he creeps forward, around the rock (or scrap of compound, Harley couldn't tell) that he was hiding behind to see the battle firsthand, the allies matched by the enemies one for one. From here, Harley can see Black Panther, T'Challa swiping at an aliens ankles before jumping on top of him and slitting his throat, while his sister Shuri is beside him, shooting lasers the smaller ones rushing beside them. A wizard is using a magic rope against another alien creature, holding it down while a... goose? Duck? Burns its face with a cigar. Harley doesn't know why he's surprised at that, he's seen weirder in his years, but he shakes it off quickly, whispering for his AI, TON-EE, to track and find her namesake.

He can't be seen, he knows that much. Iron Lad didn't exist at this time, Harley wasn't apart of the battle, and now, as he watches it take place all around him, smells the sharp bitterness in their air, breathes in particles and coughs out soot, he's sort of thankful that he wasn't, a complete contrast to the nights, the years spend wishing that he was.

TON-EE beeps at him, and then a map comes up, of one large red dot surrounded by what looks like a million tiny white ones, all allies and enemies, and when it zooms out, Harley can see its right in the middle, right where all of the action is. Of course Tony could be there, in the hardest place possible for him to get to. He's gotta make things harder for him, even after death. Or, before death? Whatever, it doesn't matter. Or, it won't, if Harley gets his way.

He's just gotta get there now. He can hear the battle raging on in the background as he whispers to TON-EE, and starts to fly, feeling the armor shift as it turns and flips, the retroreflective panels going into place and turning him mostly invisible to the naked eye. Normally he wouldn't fly when in this mode, his replusors and their glow would give him away, but he's hoping the battle will be enough of a distraction to where nobody will notice. Or, if they do, they'll ignore it for the time being, and assume he's just another ally. He makes sure he's high above the battle, making sure to keep an eye on the flyers around him- Falcon is dropping grenades and bombs further into enemy territory, and Ant-Man, while huge, couldn't move very fast, so he should be fine- as he zooms into the warzone, moving quickly and efficiently, watching as the red dot gets bigger, closer.

He feels something out of the corner of his eye, in his blind spot, and he jerks backwards at the last second, just as a giant white Pegasus flies past him, a woman on its back and a higher pitched scream of "woAH-" flying past afterwards, hanging from- from a web, Harley freezes, realizes, watching Spider-Man, watching Peter cling to the web as he gets thrown around haphazardly, hanging off of the horse, clutching onto what he knows is the infinity gauntlet, remembers from when Peter told him so all those years ago, a few months after all of this. Told him that he had it, that he should've held onto it when Carol asked for it, should've gotten the stones and used it himself, should've saved everyone himself, he mightve survived it after all but Harley had only felt fear, knowing that he wouldn't have. He shakes the memory away, and follows the swirving horse, the clinging spider, knowing it'll lead him straight to where he needs to be.

The thing was, Harley had forgotten why Peter had fallen to the ground, why Carol had gotten the chance to ask him for the gauntlet, only remembering when he hears a scream of "Look out!" Before all hell breaks loose, canons shooting down from the sky and exploding to the ground, shaking the earth beneath him.

"Shit!" He tries to fly out of the trajectory, tries to get out of the battlefield while still staying close, but his leg gets nipped by the beam, he gets thrown off balance, and then he's falling, and crashes to the ground with a loud bang that's sounds quiet compared to the booms of the canons, of the tremors of the earth he can now feel beneath his fingertips, his entire body shuttering with the ground. He groans, his body searing with pain, before his mind reboots and the panic sets in. He checks the storage area, sighing with relief when the vial is still in tact, before checking his system to see whats broken, what's working, whats still up. His back replusor is down, so his flight system is gone, but outside of that, it seems everything is still working, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. Its okay, he can still do this, he'll just- have to find his way on land, he'll just have to be more careful.

He glances around, the earth still exploding around him, hearing wails of pain from people he can't even see, dust scattering in the air and blood seeping into the dirt, his stomach churning at the sight and his ears ringing as he tries to focus, stepping forward to run into the field, to find his way to Tony just as the tracker system reappears in his field of vision, just as he sees the red dot basically overtaking the screen, just as he's grabbed and is suddenly in flight, weaving through the air in somebody's arms.

Before Harley can even struggle, he's being dropped, the two suits landing back down at the same time, and Harley turns, his eyes widening as he sees the signature red and gold, scruffed and marked and dirty from the fight, the bright blue glow of the arc reactor, and the two eye slits that disappear as his visor retracts and suddenly Harley is stumbling because oh my god, he did this, this is it, this is- he is-

"Kid?? Is that you?" Tony asks, voice full of wonder and awe, full of bewilderment and concern, his iries a little darker, softer than he remembered, his hair and beard full of gray hairs and his face full of wrinkles from smiling, laughing, crying, and he's so real, this is real, that Harley can't help the sob that bubbles out of his chest, that slips past his lips. He can hear Tony still talking to him, saying something about Harley's suit, but he doesn't even hear it, can't hear it as he stumbles forward and pulls the man into a tight hug, his body lurching forward in another silence cry, tears flowing down his pushed up cheeks harder when he feels the warmth beneath his fingertips, the smooth metal and the feeling of skin and stubble against his cheek and he's here, he's okay, he's alive. "Harley?" The man murmurs quieter, sounded so confused but also not questioning, seemingly not caring as he pulls the younger man closer, running a hand down his back and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Bud?"

"I'm sorry," He blurts out, and he doesn't even know why he says it, but he needs him to know, needs him to. "I'm sorry. I just-" He rubs at his eye with a free hand, burrowing his face into Tony's neck, feeling the rapid bump of a heartbeat beneath his skin and sobbing again. "I missed you so much." Its a whisper, under his breath, one he doesn't mean for Tony to hear, but its clear he does, the man stiffening up for a few seconds before untensing with a shaky breath, tugging Harley even closer.

They don't say anything else for a while, Tony clearly thinking, putting together pieces of a situation he shouldn't even know, that Harley never should have told him, but he can't care, doesn't care right now as he feels Tony move, feels his chest rise and fall with each breath, feels the heat beneath his skin, feels his jaw moving and his cheek shifting as he blinks, and breaths, and lives. Harley could stay here forever, and be happy, but he knows he can't, knows that isn't how this day should, or can, go.

"What year are you from?" The older man questions, finally breaking the silence between them as he seemingly put the puzzle together, and Harley releases a shaky exhale, shutting his eyes, longing to block out the world and live in this moment forever.

"2029," He answers anyways, honestly, and suddenly Tony snorts, Harley furrowing his eyebrows at the seemingly random sound until-

"2029? Come on, that's not a real year."

Harley bursts into chuckles, unexpectedly, and from the grin it places on Tony's face, that was the purpose of the tease. "I mean it, old man. 2029."

Tony lets out a noise similar to a squawk at the old man comment, and lightly smacks the back of his head as Harley snickers, feeling so light and warm, he missed this, he missed this feeling so much, and seemingly sensing the sadness lingering under Harleys skin, the mood darkens again, their voices quieting again as Tony whispers, "2029, wow."

"Yeah," Harley whispers back, feeling the heaviness in the air on his back, his shoulders, his lungs, almost suffocating him with its thickness.

"So you're... 24?"

"23." He corrects, as Tony finally steps back and Harleys fingers twitch to pull him back in, as Tony's hand grabs his chin lightly, a thumb rubbing his cheek in a soothing, paternal gesture, his eyes softening even more, growing shiny in the faint gray light.

"All grown up."

Harley hums in affirmation, ignoring the way the back of his eyes start burning again, his heart swelling. "I have a kid, a son." Now that he has the chance, everything just seems to be spilling out of him without filter.

Tony's eyes widen and his face glows with a pride that makes Harley's shoulders shutter again, even as his smile widens far enough to break his face. "A son, huh?"

"Yeah, me and- me and Peter adopted him a few months ago, his name is Jackson Anthony, and- and he's perfect, Tony, he's perfect, he's so small, and sweet, and he barely cries, he's like a dream." And that he's started, he can't seem to stop, spilling quickly about Jax, and about Peter, the wedding, their life and how wonderful it is, how much he loves them, but before he knows it, he's biting his tongue and freezing into place, words on the tip of his tongue that he dare not let out, he can't, his chest feeling heavy and aching as he thinks, 'God I wish you could've been there'.

Tony just smiles, tight and sad, like he knows what he's thinking, like he knows what happens, and brushes another tear off his cheek as he asks, soft and low, "Harley, why are you here? Why did you come back?" And Harley just stares at him, begging and pleading him to understand without him having to say it, and when the mans face shutters, his eyes darkening and his smile tilting into a light frown, he knows that he does. "Kid-"

"I couldn't-" He shakes his head, clenching and unclenching his hands rapidly. "I had a chance, Tony, and I had to, I have to-"

"You can't, bub." Tony murmurs, and Harley just shakes his head again, harder, firmer.

"I have to."

"You can't." He restates, holding onto Harley's arms tightly and forcing him to make eye contact, to look him in the eyes even if Harley wants to look anywhere else, wants to think of any other way, any other option than this. "This is my destiny, kid."

"It doesn't have to be, there has to be another way," Harley pleads, "Captain Marvel could survive the snap, I did the calculations, if I just get the glove to her-"

Tony just shakes his head too, looking eerily serious, sullen. "It could change too much, it could change everything, Harley-"

"So? You'd survive-"

"You have a husband, and a kid-"

"So did you!" Harley spits back, shaking off Tony's hold and glaring at him, even as he shakes, and swallows around a lump in his throat. "You had Pepper, and Morgan, and- and Peter, and me and you just- you still want to just-"

All of the fight rushes out of him, and his shoulders slump, his head held low and salt pooling at his chin, dripping to the floor. Tony takes a step forward, and carefully places a hand onto Harleys shoulder, stating calmly, accepting, "I made my choice, kid. And I don't regret it." When Harley peers up at it, face scrunched up in agony, Tony continues, soft and sad. "How can I, when I get to see this? When I know you and Peter are so happy, when I-" He swallows. "When I hope Pepper has moved on, and Morgan has got the chance to grow up with his two older brothers." He squeezes Harley's face, and gives him a smile made only for him, full of honest, open love. "How can I regret any of it, when I know all of my family is together again?"

"Without you." Harley chokes out, and Tony's smile stays, shrugs once.

"If thats the price to pay, I'll pay it. I told myself I'd do anything, anything to get you and Peter back. I knew it was worth it, worth anything, and now, this," He rubs Harleys cheek as he crumbles with another agonizing sob, "Now I know for sure. It was worth it. It was all worth it."

Harley falls into his arms again, wailing loudly into his chest, and Tony just soothes him, shushes him quietly and holds him close. "I miss you so much,"

"I know," He murmurs faintly.

"I love you so much." He sobs, and Tony just presses a harder kiss to his head, and holds it there for a few seconds, liquid dripping onto his head.

"I love you too, polpetta. More than you'll ever know."

"I don't know if I can- can lose you again."

Tony doesn't answer this time, and Harley cries harder, his entire body tremoring just like the ground did, knowing, knowing he has to back, knowing he cant change Tony's mind, but aching, his heart shattering and crumbling into pieces of dust similar to the compound surrounding them, and it takes a few more minutes, a few more moments of a hug so tight it makes his muscles whine, his bone creak, before Tony tells him quietly, melancholy. "You gotta to back, Harls."

He squeezes the man again, nodding, knowing he's right, knowing his husband his back there in the garage waiting for him, knowing his son is in his cradle, fast asleep, knowing his life is waiting for him back home. He savors the last few seconds of holding his father, his dad in his arms, before he steps back. Tony gives him a grin, one last, big toothy smile, a complete contrast to the shine in his eyes, on his cheeks, and Harley smiles back, saying one last "I love you," and hearing it echoed in return.

"I love you too. Both of you, all of you."

He takes the vial out of the storage slot, putting into place, and glances up one last time, searing all of Tony's features into his mind, into memory, his words echoing in his head as he presses the button, whispers a goodbye, and shrinks.

The return back is much faster, Harley only getting a blink before he's back in his garage, the room a mess similar to how he left it, and the first thing he sees is Peter, his husband, the love of his life still stood in the very same place, in the doorway of the garage, his baby browns wide and teary, looking so fearful, so scared, yet so thankful that Harley returned.

"Harley?!?" He gasps, and Harley barely gives his suit time to retract before he's rushing forward and crashing into Peter, Peter already into soothing mode and whispering faint reassures, to himself or to harley he doesn't know, Harley crumbling again in his arms and sputtering out, over and over and over, "He loves you, he loves us, loves us so much." Like its the last chance he'd ever get to say it again.

Peter just holds him close, similar to the way his dad did only moments before, and Harley sinks into the warmth, vowing to live in the here and the now from now on. To live in the moment, and be there for his husband and his son, knowing that Tony was watching over them, with that same proud smile and little glint in his eyes.

#parkner week 2020 #parkner #parley #harley keener/peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #this is mostly irondad oops #sorryyy #the rest of the week will be better #or more parkner anyways 😂

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nureyevapologist · 6 years ago

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Hiyaaa, if you want an aftg prom still, pls consider: Neil coming home to his and andrew's apartment with one of his newest recruits, and they boy is beaten and battered and neil's first instict was to take care of him because no one ever took care of neil, and andrew's reaction to this! ❤

thanks for this!! i might have veered from the specifics a little and this is like, 70% a character study of neil and 30% Andreil Content but i hope this is okay!!

Neil Josten felt that he owed a lot to the idea of coincidences.

Coincidence was Neil taking an uncalculated risk on the Millport Dingoes the very same year that Riko Moriyama finally snapped and took the bones in Kevin Day’s hand with him. Coincidence was falling into the same orbit as the man who had watched Neil’s father slice a man like lunchmeat and coincidence was him being so single-mindedly focused on Exy that he didn’t notice Neil’s terrible dye job or the white ring around his contact lenses. Coincidence was Andrew Minyard being the single-most observant person Neil has ever met, and coincidence was Neil being forced into his field of vision.

Coincidence was also Neil here and now, stopping off at a convenience store to grab a packet of cigarettes and accidentally witnessing his potential new recruit fall victim to a heavy, parental hand.

It had only taken one video on a grainy, digital camera to show Neil that this kid had the raw potential to be one of the greatest backliners Palmetto State would ever see. Not fifteen minutes into the footage had Neil shoved aside his other folders and said to Wymack, one thumb jutted at the screen, we have to have him. Wymack had shrugged, assented with a nonchalant you’re the captain, captain and the very next week saw the two of them riding out to Georgia in Neil’s shiny new Lexus.

(“Having a Pro Athlete for a boyfriend sure does have its perks, huh kiddo?” had almost gotten Wymack elbowed bodily out of a moving vehicle.

“Above your paygrade” in a smooth, Andrew-esque tone had Coach laughing for the next ten minutes of the drive, safe and unmoving in the passenger seat.)

So they had approached the boy, Josh, after hanging back in the shadows to watch his high school team completely demolish their opponents. Wymack had loitered, no doubt trying to catch the name of the opposition’s only saving grace, a furious offensive dealer, and Neil had attempted to look cool and friendly as opposed to cold and menacing.

Naturally, the kid told Neil to fuck off four times before Neil backed him into a corner and told him to stop squandering his future by being unnecessarily abrasive. There was something in the complicated ice of this boy’s eyes that Neil connected with, an innate fear that ducked for cover behind aggression and hunched shoulders. One minute he stood every inch his five feet and ten inches and the next, body folded in on itself like he was willing it to disappear, he looked to stand no taller than Neil himself.

“I don’t know what your deal is,” Neil had said, arms tucked across his chest with all of his patchwork scars on show, “but I come from Palmetto State. I’m not here to judge, or pry, or fix. I don’t give a shit about your tragic backstory, I give a shit about the way you single-handedly held up your team’s defense line and I give a shit about putting you on an NCAA Class I Exy team. If you can get over yourself for five minutes, I suggest you sign first and cry later”

Every fibre in this kid’s body twitched like he wanted to run and Neil was hit, not for the first time, with jarring memory of himself in this position, shadows of a dark locker room curling in around his ankles, Wymack promising a future he’d never stayed still long enough to know he wanted. Sentiment was lost on Neil, most of the time. Still, if his family of Foxes had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you had to save people despite them not wanting to be saved. At this point, that may as well be the Palmetto State Motto. Neil had given the kid a few hours to think on it. Go home, talk to whoever you need to talk to, think about it. Just remember that we did not drive out here for a no.

Wymack had, of course, grumbled about having to spend a few hours sweating my damn ass off in the pleasure of your company but had mellowed somewhat when Neil had taken him for a suitably greasy dinner and showed him how to use his new phone to FaceTime Dan. He had allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the scene; Wymack, his face far too close to the screen, cursing Dan out for not texting him all week because saying I miss you is too overrated. Dan, a pixelated blur of joy and exuberance, showing her father every single corner of her new apartment and zooming in on one Matt Boyd, tangled helplessly in the middle of an Ikea side table.

With Wymack occupied, Neil had called Andrew, who answered on the very last ring because he was a certified asshole at the best of times. “Am I to assume you will be elsewhere when I get to the dorms?”

Andrew always makes him feel so known. “I managed to pick another stubborn one”

“Yes,” Andrew says, his voice a slow rumble over the familiar, quiet growl of the Maserati, “because you were so quick to acquiesce”

“I might have been running to grab a pen,” Neil replies. Andrew doesn’t laugh, but there’s a puff of air that Neil recognises as amusement, and his own mouth curls. “I think I sold him, though. A few hours and I might finally have secured a backliner”

“You should hope so,” and then there’s a beat of silence and the tell-tale flick of a lighter, “because I refuse to listen to you whine about it all weekend”

“So you admit that you do listen, when I talk?”

“Absolutely not” and when the silence stretches for a beat too long, Neil lifts the phone from his ear and realises Andrew has disconnected the call. Typical Andrew, but now Neil’s fingers twitch to hold a cigarette and he distinctly remembers leaving them behind at the behest of Wymack’s disapproving frown. Beneath his thighs the sticky vinyl booth creaks in protest when he shifts his weight and he waves a round-about hand at Wymack before ducking out of the diner, knowing that Wymack will see him cross the road toward the convenience store and put two and two together.

It says a lot for how far he has allowed himself to sink into safety and familiarity and family that he doesn’t immediately notice the shouting. He’s caught up in realising his ID is somewhere in the glove compartment of his car and wondering if his sharp scars and sharper expression will dissuade the cashier from asking questions. Behind the front counter is a door, all peeling red paint and a half-hearted Staff Only sign, and the slight space between the door and the frame is the source of the noise. Neil has no interest in interfering. Neil has no interest in even listening to some inane disagreement between cashier and colleague, and is considering returning to the diner empty handed when he hears a sharp crack, followed by a sharper, you are never leaving me, Joshua, not ever and the unmistakeable sound of hands pummelling flesh. Something in Neil twitches to intervene but he isn’t stupid enough to walk into a small room with flying fists so, in a bid of panic, he thumps the bell by the cash drawer once, twice, three times.

A man appears from the back, face flushed the red of barely-swallowed anger, eyes a little wild and searching. Neil smiles something icy and the man is stupid enough to misread it. “Sorry ‘bout that, had’ta catch up on some paperwork in the back. What can I do ya for?”

There’s a moment where everything slows down and Neil files away details like his life depends on it. Blood, smeared across the knuckles of one large, meaty hand. A row of scratches, three raised and red, sit tucked against his chunky neck in an indication that someone had raised a hand to defend themselves. A gold ring, thick and faded, shaped to spell out DAD. Neil doesn’t know what makes him say it, but he opens his mouth to ask for a packet of Camel Blue and what comes out is “someone round the back is casing the place, you might want to check that out”

A self-righteous rage takes over the man’s expression, clouding his eyes and the twist of his mouth and he claps Neil on the shoulder as he passes on his way to the door. Men like him, Neil thinks, are far too predictable for their own good. Something like a memory tugs at his subconscious; Neil at age sixteen, dropping a similar line, waiting for the all clear to stuff his pockets full of food and hightail it out of there before anyone noticed. That, Neil thinks, was a far more sensible plan than whatever this was. He rounds the corner of the cashier desk, nudges the back door open with the flat of his hand and comes face to face with the cowering, crumpled body of his newest recruit.

The kid, Josh, is folded in on himself in the far corner of this office, schoolbag tossed a few paces away, face hidden in his hands. At Neil’s entrance he starts so hard Neil almost feels it like a physical thing and then his face does something complicated when he realises it isn’t his father; relief warring with shame warring with anger warring with hope. One of his eyes is beginning to blacken and there’s blood pouring from a cut in his eyebrow – the ring, the fucking ring – and from one side of a crooked nose. His wrist doesn’t look particularly healthy and the way he holds himself tells Neil that this is not a one off occurrence.

“What do you want?” asks Josh, and Neil has no fucking idea. There are scars on his skin from the hands of his father and the hands of his mother and there were long years of his life where he was so accustomed to being beaten within an inch of his life that he never stopped to think that maybe, he didn’t deserve it and maybe, it wasn’t normal and maybe, someone should have helped him. How many teachers saw his black eyes, his split lips, his bruised arms, and how many of them said nothing. How many strangers saw his mother grip his wrist so tightly that it popped, pulling him into a car or a hotel or an alley, how many men saw his father pummel him like a punch bag?

Without thinking about it too much, Neil holds out a hand. “I want to help you. I want you to come with me”

Josh scoffs, gesturing loosely to his face. “This is nothing compared to what he’ll do if he comes in here and I’m gone”

Neil frowns. “Look at me,” and he points to his own scarred face with equally scarred hands, “look at my face and tell me you don’t think I’ve survived worse than your piece of shit father. Come with me, now, and don’t ever come back. Let us help you”

And there it is again, the flurry of anger-fear-shame-hope. “Why?”

“You’re a damn good backliner,” Neil tells him simply, “and if you let that pathetic excuse of a man beat you any harder you won’t be, anymore”

Hesitation twists his features into something ugly. Neil knows that he has minutes, maybe seconds until the man outside realises he’s been set up. If Neil has to pick saving himself over saving this kid, he’ll probably save himself, but Josh drags himself to his feet and looks Neil squarely in the face. “If I do this…he will come looking for me”

“And he will find an entire team of angry, troubled Exy players who know their way around a racquet” Neil replies. “I can protect you, but we have to leave. Right now”

His jaw goes tight but he nods, once. Neil nods back and together they make their way toward the front of the store, Neil pushing ahead, body strung-tight with focus. Outside he nudges Josh ahead of him, watches him adjust his gait around a lopsided limp, reels in his anger for another day.

They reach the Lexus across the street and a voice from behind calls “Joshua, get back here this goddamn instant.”

Three things happen.

Josh, in a bout of incredible bravery, flips his father the middle finger and falls over himself to clamber into the back seat of Neil’s car. The father, in a bout of incredible anger, starts for Neil like he means to snap his head from his body. Wymack, in a bout of incredible exhaustion at the familiarity of a situation such as this, appears at Neil’s right shoulder and swings a right hook up and under the man’s jaw.

It sends the man on his ass and in a split-second shared glance, Neil and Wymack make the mutual decision to get the fuck out of there.

Over the course of their drive back to Palmetto, Neil explains the situation with their new backliner, Wymack assures Josh that he will be resolutely protected, and Josh leaks blood all in the fancy seats of Neil’s car. When it doesn’t seem like it will stop, Neil shucks off his hoodie and throws it at the kid, telling him to hold it fast to the wound – after a brief, whispered argument, Neil pulls over and hands Wymack the keys and throws himself into the backseat to try and assess the damage. The ring hadn’t cut his eyebrow so much as it had gouged out a chunk of skin and his nose and lip are bust but mostly dried up. There’s a patch of blood at his side, seeping through his white t-shirt, and he waves that away as split stitches. From what, Neil doesn’t ask. He tries to staunch the bleeding but succeeds only in covering his own fingers in the blood, and in the end Wymack has to drive them straight to Abby’s house.

“Abby is our team nurse,” Neil explains, while Wymack tries to parallel park a Lexus under a blanket of colourful curses, “she patches up sprained ankles but she also patched up every wound visible on my skin, so you can trust her. I can stay, if you want, or I can leave you in her capable hands while I go back to campus and make preparations for you. There’s a spare bed in one of the freshman dorm rooms, or you can stay with Abby, or you can sleep on my sofa. Whatever you need”

Josh tucks his arms around himself, bravado stripped for the day. Neil assumes it will come back, that things will be difficult, that the kid’s attitude will fling itself all over the place, but for now he’s looking at Neil like Neil just saved his life and Neil thinks he just might have.

“You can go,” Josh says, “I have more shit under here I don’t wanna flash to anyone but a nurse, right now. Uh, I don’t…maybe I can stay on your sofa? For a bit. I don’t…”

“Hey,” Neil interrupts, “you don’t have to explain. Sofa it is. Though, I should tell you, my…my boyfriend is visiting right now, and he isn’t the friendliest person you’ll ever meet-”

“Understatement,” Wymack interrupts, “fucking understatement”

“-but,” and Neil flips off Wymack, “as long as you don’t give him any reason to distrust you, you’ll be safe”

He watches the kid for a minute, waiting for something. Protest, anger, homophobia, acceptance. Instead he shrugs, tired, overwhelmed, and climbs out of the car. Wymack follows him out, with a parting jab about Neil’s use of the term boyfriend, and then Neil is left to drive back to campus alone.

Maybe it should be embarrassing that the sight of the Maserati fills Neil with a fuzzy sort of warmth but this past half-a-year has begrudgingly taught him that distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever, and that he should allow himself to recognise that he misses Andrew and likes it when he comes home.

Or maybe Bee had taught him that, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Andrew.

The man in question is leaning up against the hood of his car, sleek and sharp in his black jeans and leather jacket, one booted-foot propped against the license plate, a cigarette between his lips. He’s gotten broader, since Neil last saw him, bulkier in the arms and shoulders and if Andrew is feeling up to it, Neil wants to relearn the shape of him with his fingers, maybe even his mouth.

Andrew doesn’t look up when the Lexus pulls in, feigning a nonchalance the set of his jaw doesn’t quite convey, but he does look up when Neil steps out of the car and his face transitions from smooth to thunder so fast it gives Neil whiplash.

“What happened?”

Neil blinks and Andrew’s hands are on him, fingers tilting his jaw this way and that, skimming down the sides of his body, eyes roaming for injury. Neil belatedly realises that he has Josh’s blood on his hands, a little on his shirt and he curves his own fingers around Andrew’s wrists, meets his eye with a calm stare. “It isn’t mine”

“That,” Andrew says, shoulders settling away from tension, “is not as reassuring as you seem to think it is”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Had some trouble with the new recruit. He’ll be staying with us”

Andrew arches a pale eyebrow, studying the blood on Neil’s fingers with a calculated disinterest. Neil huffs. “His father was beating the shit out of him”

“Where is he now?”

“Abby’s��

Andrew studies him for a long moment. Then, “I thought taking in strays was my thing”

“Well,” and Neil smooths his thumbs down over the fine bones of Andrew’s wrists, “someone had to pick up the slack. I couldn’t leave him there. So many people must have seen my mother backhand me and no one ever stepped in. How could I-”

“Stop it,” Andrew says, and Neil stops. “You cannot take responsibility for every single person in the world. It will never make your mother un-hit you”

Neil flinches, but he knows Andrew is right. Still, “I can help him. I can help this one. I want to”

“Alright”

“Yeah?”

Andrew gives him a look. “What, were you asking my permission? Are we adopting this child together?”

Neil laughs, a new thing, tipping his head back, teeth slipping past his lips. “You don’t think we’d make good parents?”

Andrew steps close enough that one of his boots rests between Neil’s two sneakers, their hands still clasped between them becoming squashed between their chests. “I would be a textbook parent. You would be a nightmare”

“I resent that,” Neil tells him “We’re never having kids”

“Obviously”

“Cats, maybe”

Andrew blinks. “Cats? You’ve thought about cats?”

Neil shrugs, once, but can’t fight the smile spilling back onto his face. “We’re getting cats. You said yourself that you like taking in strays”

“No,” Andrew says, firm. “I do not like it. The last one I took in continues to test my patience, so I will not have another”

“I’ve been testing your patience for four years and you’ve yet to get rid of me” Neil reminds him, “I think you’re getting soft”

“I think I am getting back in my car and leaving you here” Andrew replies, allowing it when Neil’s hands wiggle up between their bodies to frame his face.

“I think you’re going to help me make use of my empty dorm room before a freshman backliner moves in onto my sofa”

Andrew doesn’t respond to this either way but he allows it when Neil stretches to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and he allows it when Neil takes him by the fingers and leads him into Fox Tower, and he certainly allows it when Neil peels him out of his leather jacket before the door is even closed behind them.

(Later, when Josh announces his presence with a tentative knock at the door, Andrew answers it. Neil watches them size one another up and then Andrew reaches up into his armband for a knife. “Use this on anyone other than your father,” he says, “and I will use it to remove your hands”

If the expression on his face is anything to go by, Josh has no idea what he’s agreeing to in taking that knife, but he does it anyway. Neil has to hide his smile in the collar of his newly-acquired leather jacket.)

#answered #prompt fills #andreil #fic

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mychristopherstokes66world · 6 years ago

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https://cnn.it/2Itd2mY And this comes one week after Trump was briefed on ufos (as he claimed in NBC interview on sunday). >Tucker suddenly talking about ufos >Wolf Blitzer suddenly talking about ufos >Jake Tapper suddenly talking about ufos the fuck is going on here???????? you know how hollywood is out of fresh new ideas and rehashes old movies to increasingly anoyed audiences? well the government is doing the same, rehashing old distractions to distract the masses. what i dont know yet is what they are trying to distract us from ((They))) know what is going to happen. This is why they are forced to push their UFO narrative. The Script was never made to play out in such a short time. This is why it looks so odd. Out of place. They are forced to get the UFO narrative over, to a point where they can start Blue Beans. What is forcing them? What is going to happen soon? soon pain? 4th july Blackout? 10 days? june 23? coincendent? think about sudden false flag sudden push to ww3 sudden pizzagate back at the table -yet no new news in there -video about the lie detector is from 2018 sudden ayy image threads all over the board sudden slide threads everywhere sudden bob lazar sudden tic tac ufo what is going on that they need so much derail? what is going to happen? soon? think about it Dont ask me how I know this but this capeshit culture and “ayylmaos” invading jewyork etc in hollyshit flicks are just tier 1 level conditioning. In phase 2 the U.S will be perfecting their “mothership” trials capable of launching ALCM nukes In phase 3 the U.S will set them off on countries for depopulation and declare their own manufactured falseflag as “alien attack” The great thing about this is that nobody would doubt them because zoomers and millenials are already programmed to react to alien invasions on the big screen. Instead of being shocked to oblivion it’ll be “as seen on tv” moment for them As their open-onions-mouth pose lingers till they are nuclear dust https://thedevilman666.blogspot.com/https://www.facebook.com/groups/qanonreports https://twitter.com/CIACLOWN1 https://www.bitchute.com/channel/ciaclown16661/

Look who is pushing the UFO narrative they are all clinton dogs why are only those people pushing for it? Do they want to keep their hands on ayys? Do they think Trump has something? Do they know? Do they fear he is gettnig there first? When will he make his move? How much time is left for the left ufo society? 23? 4? run rabbit run enjoy the show pain is coming There’s the declassification Multiple investigations in Clinton enterprises. Inspector general shit gonna drop. NXVIUM (or whatever the fuck) Look at all the weird weird shit too Merkel literally shaking Obama visiting Italy Tides turning, so deep state is pulling out all the stops they can. Shits actually pretty pathetic. ive been doing some listening to videos on MK Ultra and its starting to make a little sense. >emotionlessly sets himself on fire >some random local government employee snaps and shoots people im not saying people don't lose it, but this event specifically kinda makes me wonder I've seen some shit that would make the matrix movies seem like a nice walk in the park. Imagine what people 2000 years ago knew... multiply that by 3 times by what people know nowadays. That's the future I have seen. All I can tell you.... it's very organic. You need not worry. Well, some people will die but the majority will be really well off. I've seen some shit that would make the matrix movies seem like a nice walk in the park. Imagine what people 2000 years ago knew... multiply that by 3 times by what people know nowadays. That's the future I have seen. All I can tell you.... it's very organic. You need not worry. Well, some people will die but the majority will be really well off.

>>Tucker suddenly talking about ufos >>Wolf Blitzer suddenly talking about ufos >>Jake Tapper suddenly talking about ufos Time to bury REAL news

Iran is going to be a combat exercise to demonstrate true next generation military aircraft to Russia and China without giving them controlled combat data. They are currently massaging public opinion on UFOs for the same reason fusion reactors are gradually being introduced as a difficult thing to build. There is a good chance that the technology is relatively simple in the current technological landscape and potentially volatile on a nuclear scale.

>nukes on countries We got ebola transmitted through the air. We got holograms in the sky. We can transmit noises/voices directly into the skull. Why wouldn't we convince the whole lot of them to kill each other (even faster)? Lockheed has already built a mini tokamak that fits in the bed of a truck and can power a small City. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lockheed_Martin_Compact_Fusion_Reactor the message of these sightings is that the Navy doesn't want to investigate it's unclear if the Navy lacks the technology to shoot these motherfuckers out of the sky or lacks the will to shoot them down the point is that ANY rival nation could be operating the UFOs, possibly Russia, possibly Israel, and it doesn't have to be a rival nation, it could be an ALLY that is doing this, like the UK if it is an ally, then you can see what an important thing it is to shoot them out of the sky, reveal the traitor, and break the will of the traitor to fly these fuckers at us anything that takes time away from other operations is a waste of taxpayer/public funds it's basically a leaky boat if you're just complaining about UFOs all day long, then you're taking taxpayer funds and pointing at the sky and drooling it's fucking pointless, and you look like a dork people are going to lose respect for the USA You live on a planet in the very center of the entire observable and measurable universe. The.exact.center. >Axis of Evil >CMB >coincidence You are a fractal microcosm of the macrocosmic universal consciousness. You are too stupid to understand what this means. The same energy that created everything in existence, GOD in the original form as consciously aware energy, exists within you as it is you. You are a God within THE GOD, albeit throttled because you have proven yourself incapable of becoming consciously aware of your own subconscious creative power. >prove aliens dont exist If aliens do exist... it is because you are so fucking stupid and lost that your subconscious has to create a retard dimension where you learn mind creates reality in totality. >very few will understand this The Universe literally revolves around you

What's incredible is that the Gimbal UFO video, which we know now was in 2015 off the East coast of the US, does exactly what Lazar describes - rotates to turn onto the "bottom" of the saucer. As time goes on, Lazar is being vindicated.

>Does anyone actually believe this guy? I think he was taken for a ride on his occasional visits to a theoretical research facility he was more or less consulting at should be taken in consideration. They did test saucer like things that turned into hovercraft once. Pic related. It was for the navy. Maybe the were researching better ways to do it and had lots of jokes on past projects. He didn't seem to be a full member. Yeah, that makes sense. But the stuff lazar predicted and filmed was weird. This suggests that on those test nights, the military was testing shit unlike anything ever seen. Doesn’t necessarily mean ayys, but it does show that bob had knowledge of the government having very advanced stuff and he also knew when they were testing it. Showing his buds is what got him fired. deep state trying to save themselves. Iran didnt work, now they're trying for UFOs. It wont work either, but rats are most dangerous when they're cornered. I've seen UFO's in my time in the military, but somethings off on this, I ain't buying it. All you need to know is the guys "disclosing" ufos are podestas buddys, elizondo literally said he was told by higger ups theyre demons, greer is affiliated with these guys. Greer literally preaches meditating and prayer to summon lights in sky. Ayyyes are real but this isnt ayes boys theyre trying to convince us their dmt demon buds are the ayes come to save us. All you need to know is the guys "disclosing" ufos are podestas buddys, elizondo literally said he was told by higger ups theyre demons, greer is affiliated with these guys. Greer literally preaches meditating and prayer to summon lights in sky. Ayyyes are real but this isnt ayes boys theyre trying to convince us their dmt demon buds are the ayes come to save us. Dont believe them anons hold steadfast pol has and always will be a Christian board !!! Americans used to fly F-117s into their bases in the UK, before it was even known that they existed, they'd fly them in at night, with no lights on, and go straight into a hangar, from an unlit runway theres probably loads of secret aerospace projects that'll be common knowledge in 20 years, but by todays standards it seems like whacko-tech that's been going on for years though. The amount of media coverage on UFO's seems to be one of two things: 1) They are attempting to distract from the Deep State losing the covert war against the United States and the recent happenings with Iran seem to correlate with this. or 2) The lying mainstream media is grasping at straws in attempts to attract more viewers. It could be a combo of both, but I'm leaning more towards option 1 being the NIXVM degenerate sex cult is being busted wide open and (not to sound like a Qtard) but I'm beginning to believe we might at last see Justice. It's ALL a complete diversion. (((They))) don't want the public to see or know something. My guess is the NXIVM cult, its ties to pizzagate, hollywood, government, Clinton Global Initiative, etc. Remember Anthony Wiener's laptop that got seized in Oct of 2016? That laptop is now legal evidence in the NXIVM trial. What if this just means the US finally has craft capable of complete air superiority and wants to test them in the real world without risk of subversion by our enemies? If one were to go down or be shot down by Russia or China or something they could reverse engineer, but if they test the craft against the US Navy there is no risk if one is captured. What if they're just using aliens as cover for the fact that the US is close to complete air superiority. Once these craft have been field tested and verified, which one can imagine would take a long time, they'll be ready for primetime. The US could then seize control of any asset it desires totally uncontested. According to Werner Von Braun, the plan to weaponize space always revolved around providing more and more dangers that would require escalated military strategy and orbital placements for espionage/communications and then weapons. 1. Communism 2. Terrorism 3. Rogue nations 4. Meteors 5. UFOs STARLINK is checkmate for the government that controls it. 24 hour real time monitoring likely managed by AIs of every inch of the earth with the ability to run facial recognition on people and read text written on a notepad from orbit. Directed weapons anywhere on the planet in seconds of response time Weather control Various forms of population suppression methods The aether is real, you were lied to in physics class, the US government has had earthquake machines, electromagnetic weather control, death rays that can melt an engine block from hundreds of miles away and antigravity since the 1940s when they confiscated everything Tesla owned when he died. I am tired of spoonfeeding you lazy fuckers. >And the FBI released it? Not DARPA or the pentagon or whatever? It was a Freedom of Information Act request, all they admitted was that they were interested in his work after he stopped working at Westinghouse, that they collected all newspaper articles they could find describing his work, a few descriptions and that they confiscated everything he owned when he died. Official finding was that nothing was of practical value and all of it was classified and remains so. I started looking into Tesla's lectures and notes after that, I have a few pages of copypasta I have made talking about this stuff, but it is too much effort to get through the captchas and post it in every thread, I already dropped the basics in the redpills thread (which 404d and isn't in the archives despite hitting over 330 posts) earlier this evening and I have no intention of bothering again tonight. Newfrens need to stop filling the board with idiotic garbage, understand that the shills are real, know that important information is drowned out intentionally, learn that really important topics are deleted on sight and most importantly LURK MORE. "On Light and Other High Frequency Phenomena" "On The Problem of Increasing Human Energy" He was taken to a room and shown. Documents....allowed to read them all etc. CIA purposely disinforms people working on SAPS. They let everyone individually read the "secret files" with each copy having variations unique to each person. This is how you find out who is sharing classified information. He was given a bs story on its origin and tasked with reverse engineering it...essentially seeing if/how long it takes a civilian scientist to unravel your exotic technology using observation. Then you have a cost/threat assessment on the consequences of crashing your shit in the Soviet Union for example. How long would it take for a foreign adversary to have a working prototype were this to fall into the wrong hands

https://www.metabunk.org/debunking-bob-lazars-drawing-of-s-4-hangers.t9839/ Check this out everyone. Quite a hole in Bob Lazar's claim in seeing 9 craft one day. https://www.ufosightingsdaily.com/2019/06/bob-lazar-and-george-knapp-did-rare.html?m=1 bob was not very nice to our guy tesla Because the glowniggers refuse to acknowledge their real sources, which come from two places 1. From God fearing scientists their predecessors robbed and/or murdered Nikola Tesla Wilhelm Reich Viktor Schauberger Many many others, those are the ones worth reading first in no particular order. 2. From aliens, which are demons, sometimes they channel or remote view, sometimes they interact with their physical offspring, the Nephilim, which are all 100% evil and hostile to both God and men. >is it talkin about him talkin to aliens agen? That part of Tesla's work is vastly overblown and intentionally misrepresented. Some of Tesla's later devices picked up signals that Tesla claimed were clearly of intelligent origin, he tried to decipher them and what they were saying spooked him enough to not bring the subject up again or use such machines. Our science would probably call what he was doing entanglement, which is a product of local geometry, certain geometries entangle things with malevolent spirits that our ancestors would rightly call demons, but the more correct term is Watchers and the book of Enoch describes their last time interacting with the earth before they were sealed away

Bob is full of shit.

He's went to a different college to his claims of MIT and Caltech records his records and other students remember him being at

>Pierce College

>California State University

He's a disinfo agent.

The FBI have been sent on a fool's errand by top brass in the Pentagon.

He's a disinfo agent.

The FBI have been sent on a fool's errand by top brass in the Pentagon.

Caller:

Can you list your credentials?

Lazar:

As far as what?

Caller:

Schooling, degrees.

Lazar:

I have two masters degrees; one’s in physics; one’s in electronics. I wrote my thesis on MHD, which is magnetohydrodynamics.

I worked at Los Alamos for a few years as a technician and then as a physicist in the Polarized Proton Section, dealing with the accelerator there.

I was hired at S-4 as a senior staff physicist to work on gravitational propulsion systems and whatnot associated with those crafts.

Caller:

What school did you go to?

Lazar:

I’d rather not say, the reason being I am currently working with them under contract, and I’m having enough trouble with this as it is.

>From “Alien Contact”, by Timothy Good, in a March 1990 interview:

“Bob told me that he had attended Pierce Junior College, California, then the California Institute of Technology (Cal Tech), and the California State University at Northridge. A period of employment by Fairchild was followed by a return to Cal Tech. He claims to have obtained master’s degrees in physics (his thesis: Magnetohydrodynamics) from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and in electronics from Cal Tech. To date, no evidence for these degrees has been forthcoming. Although physicist Stanton Friedman has been able to verify that Lazar did indeed attend both Pierce Junior College and California State University, he drew a blank at MIT. ‘There’s no trace of him at MIT and no record of him having attended any course. Maybe he took a lot of courses but didn’t get a degree – that’s a possibility'”.

(Note of correction from TM: In personal correspondence, Stanton Friedman informed me that Good’s statement about Friedman’s verifications was in error. The only school Friedman was able to find evidence of Lazar’s attendance at was Pierce College. Friedman stated to me he drew a blank on Lazar at Cal State Northridge.)

>From the Pre-Sentence Report, dated 7/27/90, for Lazar’s pandering conviction. This was as related by Lazar to the Parole/Probation officer preparing the report:

8-76, high school graduate, Westbury, New York (verified)

1978, Bachelor of Science Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology, Pacifica University (correspondence university).

1982, Masters of Science in Physics, MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

1985, Masters of Science in Electronic Technology, Cal Tech, California.

>From the “Ultimate UFO Seminar” at Rachel, Nevada, May 1, 1993:

Question:

Bob, could you tell us about your education? I’ve heard a lot of conflicting things; I’d like to hear from you.

Lazar:

That varies widely. As far as electronic technology, my degree there is from CalTech and physics is from MIT.

Question:

Did you go to Pierce College?

Lazar:

Yeah, I did. Where did you hear that?

Question:

A friend that said something, somebody I don’t even know. I just thought, it’s something I want to ask, to clear my mind.

Lazar:

Yeah, I went to Pierce and Northridge and then…I’m terrible at dates. I don’t know what date I was at Pierce, probably like in seventy-six or something, I was at Pierce and then seventy-seven or eight I went to Northridge just for a short time for some classes, then I was at CalTech, and MIT after that.

Later…

Question:

What was the year of your graduation from MIT, and did you get a Ph.D.?

Lazar:

No, it was a Masters Degree. The year. What was the year of graduation? Probably 82.

On the “Lark and Craig Morning Show” KOMP 92.3 FM, November 1994

Craig:

Well, you’re a smart guy. Where did you go to school? How many degrees do you have?

Lazar:

Two degrees.

Craig:

In what?

Lazar:

Physics and Electronic Technology.

Craig:

So what is that? A Ph.D.? What is that?

Lazar:

No, they’re Masters degrees.

Craig:

Masters degrees.

Lark:

Wow!

To summarize Lazar’s academic claims on the basis of his public statements he received the following:

A Bachelors Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology from Pacifica University in 1978.

A Masters Degree in Physics from MIT (Thesis: Magnetohydrodynamics) in 1982.

A Masters Degree in either Electronics or Electronic Technology from CalTech in 1985.

Note that there is a reasonable amount of consistency to his story over its various tellings. However, at Lazar’s Rachel talk he said he went to CalTech, then MIT.

Analysis:

There is a lot of data to cover, so for a first pass through, let us just look at where Lazar was at various points in time, and consider the possibilities of his attendance at the various schools he’s claimed.

Lazar graduated from high school in August of 1976 on Long Island, New York. Following that, the Lazar family moved to California, purchasing a home in the San Fernando Valley in June of 1977. It’s reasonable to assume that they had rented something in the area prior to purchasing the house, so that would have put Lazar in the area by late 1976 or early 1977.

Lazar has claimed to have attended Pierce College, a 2 year community college, in 1976. His attendance at this college, although not the precise time period, has been verified by Stanton Friedman. Lazar’s attendance at Pierce is quite likely given that he would have lived fairly close at that point in time.

Also in this general period, Lazar claimed to have attended Cal State Northridge “…just for a short time for some classes..”. This is possible and wouldn’t conflict with his general whereabouts.

The next time we can pin down Lazar’s whereabouts was on July 27, 1980 when he married his first wife Carol. According to the marriage certificate he was living in Canoga Park and he listed his occupation as “Electronics Engineer”. Curiously, he also listed his highest grade of schooling completed as 12. His location is consistent with statements he has made about working for Fairchild Industries, which was located in the San Fernando Valley.

Moving into the future, Lazar again surfaces 2 years later in the famous “Los Alamos Monitor” Jet Car story on June 27, 1982. The paper said the Lazars had moved to Los Alamos “…about a month ago from California.” >From other statements in the article, it’s apparent the Lazars had been in California for some time and that he had just started work at LANL.

Yet this is the year Lazar claimed, on at least two occasions, to have received a Masters degree from MIT. However there is no evidence whatsoever that Lazar was anywhere other than California or Los Alamos during this time. Indeed, there is no evidence in ANY of the numerous public records concerning Lazar that he had ever been in or around Cambridge Massachusetts.

When Lazar filed for bankruptcy in July of 1986, the information he was required to provide gives a snapshot of his whereabouts and activities in the years immediately prior to his filing. Is there anything in this mass of data that could even remotely allow for Lazar to spend a year at CalTech, obtaining his Masters degree, as he has claimed, in 1985?

Well, in it he states that the only places he’s lived in the previous 6 years were 2 addresses in Los Alamos (Note that this is already incorrect since he didn’t arrive in Los Alamos until mid-1982). He also states that his occupation for the previous 6 years was as a photo processor at his residence. Oddly, Los Alamos employment was not mentioned.

It also shows that he was very active in the Los Alamos area in 1985, borrowing heavily, apparently in part to support his photo processing business. For example, the records show that in March, 1985 he borrowed $12,000 to upgrade his business’s film printers. Other purchases in 1985 included a Corvette for $19,000, a number of personal loans, and finally a house in Las Vegas in June of 1985.

If we are to believe “Omni” magazine (and I’ll leave that to the reader’s discretion), in 1985 Lazar was on vacation in Nevada and bought into a legal brothel near Reno.

Again, the records clearly show that in 1985, and the few prior years, Lazar was either at Los Alamos or occasionally Las Vegas. There is not the slightest hint that he may have been working away at a Masters degree in Pasadena at CalTech.

Now that we have an idea of where and when Lazar was, let’s take a more detailed look at what information is available for each school.

W. TRESPER CLARKE HIGH SCHOOL, WESTBURY, LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: There doesn’t seem to be any debate that Lazar did indeed attend and graduate from this school. In correspondence with Stanton Friedman, he stated to me, “Re the High School. Bob was graduated in August, not June, 1976, strongly suggesting that he had to take a summer course to get enough credits. He ranked 261 out of 369 (bottom third). He did take Chemistry. I obtained this information myself first hand from the school. They will undoubtedly deny giving the class rank to me since that is privacy act protected…it is a long story.”

PACIFICA UNIVERSITY: The statement in his Presentencing Report that he received a Bachelors degree from Pacifica, and labeled it a “correspondence university” is rather unique. I have seen a lot of statements made by Lazar concerning his education, but in none of them does he say where he received his undergraduate degree. It’s a subject he seldom mentions.

Unfortunately, Pacifica University has proven difficult to locate. A number of national college directories were consulted, including those listing vocational and correspondence schools. A few of the guides were “The College Blue Book”, “American Universities and Colleges” and “The McMillan Guide to Correspondence Study”. Nowhere was there a Pacifica University listed.

The State of California Department of Education’s Council for Private, Post-Secondary and Vocational Education was contacted. They regulate all vocational and correspondence schools within the state. They informed me that they had no listing for a Pacifica University within California, either now or in the past.

A search of statewide phone records, at least in California, did turn up a Pacifica Liquor Store, but as tempting an explanation as that might be, it probably has no relevancy. Assuming Lazar was enrolled in a correspondence school by the name of Pacifica University in the late 1970s, it would now appear to be out of business. Unless Lazar himself is forthcoming as to just where this establishment was, additional verification efforts are likely useless.

PIERCE COLLEGE: Lazar’s attendance at this institution has been corroborated, although the extent of his attendance is not known. This was done some time ago by Stanton Friedman.

It was also done a second time by Friedman after Lazar spoke at Rachel, Nevada in May of 1993. When asked to name some of his professors at MIT and CalTech, Lazar responded with the name “Dr. Duxler” at CalTech. According to Glenn Campbell, the only Duxler listed in the 1993 “National Faculty Directory” was a William Duxler, Director of Computing for Pierce College.

According to personal correspondence, Friedman then contacted Duxler at Pierce, who was found to teach physics and math at Pierce. Duxler stated he never taught at Caltech. Further, Duxler checked his old records and told Friedman that Lazar took at least one of his classes in the late 1970s.

CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY AT NORTHRIDGE: Some people looking into Lazar’s schooling at Cal State Northridge may have picked up a false positive due to an interesting coincidence. There WAS a Robert Lazar who attended Cal State Northridge and graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Business in 1978. However a review of the photo in the 1978 CSUN yearbook, the “Sunburst”, clearly shows this is not our beloved Lazar, but rather someone else.

As previously mentioned, Stanton Friedman stated that he checked with CSUN and found no evidence that Lazar had attended there. Timothy Good has apparently misstated that fact in his book “Alien Contact”.

MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY: Standard inquiries have been made by George Knapp and Stanton Friedman and turned up nothing. Friedman informed me that he took the additional step of checking with the alumni office and at least the 1982 commencement list.

Glenn Campbell visited MIT in 1993 and searched through a number of the printed student records there. The idea behind this particular effort was that while elimination of computer records could be within the realm of possibility, it is essentially inconceivable that some agency would have the capability to change printed records that had widespread distribution.

Lazar, or any obvious misspellings of his name, was not listed in any MIT student directory between 1978 and 1990. Other publications checked included the MIT faculty/staff telephone directories from 1978-1990, the MIT “Degree List” from 1979-1990, and the 1989 “MIT Alumni/ae Register”.

This exhaustive searching, coupled with the June 1982 Los Alamos “Monitor” story that puts Lazar in Los Alamos newly arrived from California, leads to the inevitable conclusion that Lazar did not attend MIT as he claims.

CALIFORNIA INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY: Lazar has claimed, on different occasions, a Masters degree from CalTech in either electronics or electronic technology. Standard inquiries by Friedman and Knapp found no evidence of his attendance.

A recent visit by me with Natalie Gilmore of the CalTech Graduate Studies Department provided some important information. CalTech does not currently have, nor has it ever had any sort of graduate degree in “electronics” or “electronic technology”, or anything near those names. CalTech does offer a degree in Electrical Engineering.

Now if you have a friend or relative with an EE degree, you might, in conversation, refer to them as having a degree in “Electronics”, not realizing the distinction. However, if it is YOUR degree, it is highly unlikely after all the effort it required you would misstate what it was. People with advanced degrees, particularly in the science and engineering fields, are usually quite precise in the “pronunciation” of their degrees.

Assuming Lazar had a bachelors degree from an unaccredited school (The two year schooling period and correspondence status infer this), I asked Ms. Gilmore what the possibilities were for admittance into a Masters program at CalTech. She said it was possible, although extremely slim, due to the intense competition for admittance to CalTech. She also added that the Masters programs there are one year and require full time attendance.

However, Ms. Gilmore provided some additional data that actually support Lazar’s case, and in fairness should be mentioned. It seems that for most Masters programs at CalTech (including EE), a thesis is not required. Lazar has only claimed one thesis, in MHD, at MIT.

Furthermore, I had previously made a fairly exhaustive search through many years worth of the CalTech yearbook, “The Big T”, and was unable to turn up any trace of Lazar. However, Ms. Gilmore informed me that graduate students are usually not included in the publication. So it would seem that my efforts in this area, as reported in the timeline, are inconclusive.

However, the lack of on-campus evidence, coupled with his physical whereabouts still force the conclusion that Lazar never attended CalTech. His statement to the probation officer of a 1985 degree is particularly absurd in view of the activities he himself listed for 1985 in his bankruptcy papers.

After plowing through all this data, it is enough to satisfy me, personally, that Lazar never attended either CalTech or MIT. Of this I am certain of beyond a reasonable doubt.

How then do I explain the mystery of why Lazar clings so tenaciously to his claims of degrees from these institutions? I can’t really. To me it is one of the great mysteries of his story. I find it hard to swallow he would maintain such a story in light of all the means of verification. Of course there are other alternative explanations, but their probability is very small.

Only Lazar has the answer of why.

Possible Explanations:

Lazar has lied, and continues to do so, about his educational background.

In addition to all his other activities, Lazar was able to find time to pursue higher education and actually may possess a degree or degrees, but for unknown reasons wants to keep it secret and uses the CalTech and MIT degrees as a cover, taking the resultant abuse.

The boys at S-4, as part of their efforts to discredit Lazar, in some way implanted the absolute conviction in Lazar’s mind that he possesses the degrees, making him appear a fraud to anyone checking his past.

A note to the readers:

This pretty much concludes the series, although I have 2 more installments planned. One is a list of little nagging questions, while not full fledged flaws, are still uncomfortable loose ends to the story that perhaps Gene can explain. Then finally a wrap up where I’ll look at a number of various theories from the wild to the sublime.

Caller:

Can you list your credentials?

Lazar:

As far as what?

Caller:

Schooling, degrees.

Lazar:

I have two masters degrees; one’s in physics; one’s in electronics. I wrote my thesis on MHD, which is magnetohydrodynamics.

I worked at Los Alamos for a few years as a technician and then as a physicist in the Polarized Proton Section, dealing with the accelerator there.

I was hired at S-4 as a senior staff physicist to work on gravitational propulsion systems and whatnot associated with those crafts.

Caller:

What school did you go to?

Lazar:

I’d rather not say, the reason being I am currently working with them under contract, and I’m having enough trouble with this as it is.

>From “Alien Contact”, by Timothy Good, in a March 1990 interview:

>From the Pre-Sentence Report, dated 7/27/90, for Lazar’s pandering conviction. This was as related by Lazar to the Parole/Probation officer preparing the report:

8-76, high school graduate, Westbury, New York (verified)

1978, Bachelor of Science Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology, Pacifica University (correspondence university).

1982, Masters of Science in Physics, MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

1985, Masters of Science in Electronic Technology, Cal Tech, California.

>From the “Ultimate UFO Seminar” at Rachel, Nevada, May 1, 1993:

Question:

Bob, could you tell us about your education? I’ve heard a lot of conflicting things; I’d like to hear from you.

Lazar:

That varies widely. As far as electronic technology, my degree there is from CalTech and physics is from MIT.

Question:

Did you go to Pierce College?

Lazar:

Yeah, I did. Where did you hear that?

Question:

A friend that said something, somebody I don’t even know. I just thought, it’s something I want to ask, to clear my mind.

Lazar:

Later…

Question:

What was the year of your graduation from MIT, and did you get a Ph.D.?

Lazar:

No, it was a Masters Degree. The year. What was the year of graduation? Probably 82.

On the “Lark and Craig Morning Show” KOMP 92.3 FM, November 1994

Craig:

Well, you’re a smart guy. Where did you go to school? How many degrees do you have?

Lazar:

Two degrees.

Craig:

In what?

Lazar:

Physics and Electronic Technology.

Craig:

So what is that? A Ph.D.? What is that?

Lazar:

No, they’re Masters degrees.

Craig:

Masters degrees.

Lark:

Wow!

To summarize Lazar’s academic claims on the basis of his public statements he received the following:

A Bachelors Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology from Pacifica University in 1978.

A Masters Degree in Physics from MIT (Thesis: Magnetohydrodynamics) in 1982.

A Masters Degree in either Electronics or Electronic Technology from CalTech in 1985.

Note that there is a reasonable amount of consistency to his story over its various tellings. However, at Lazar’s Rachel talk he said he went to CalTech, then MIT.

Analysis:

If we are to believe “Omni” magazine (and I’ll leave that to the reader’s discretion), in 1985 Lazar was on vacation in Nevada and bought into a legal brothel near Reno.

Now that we have an idea of where and when Lazar was, let’s take a more detailed look at what information is available for each school.

PIERCE COLLEGE: Lazar’s attendance at this institution has been corroborated, although the extent of his attendance is not known. This was done some time ago by Stanton Friedman.

After plowing through all this data, it is enough to satisfy me, personally, that Lazar never attended either CalTech or MIT. Of this I am certain of beyond a reasonable doubt.

Only Lazar has the answer of why.

Possible Explanations:

Lazar has lied, and continues to do so, about his educational background.

A note to the readers:

Caller:

Can you list your credentials?

Lazar:

As far as what?

Caller:

Schooling, degrees.

Lazar:

I have two masters degrees; one’s in physics; one’s in electronics. I wrote my thesis on MHD, which is magnetohydrodynamics.

I worked at Los Alamos for a few years as a technician and then as a physicist in the Polarized Proton Section, dealing with the accelerator there.

I was hired at S-4 as a senior staff physicist to work on gravitational propulsion systems and whatnot associated with those crafts.

Caller:

What school did you go to?

Lazar:

I’d rather not say, the reason being I am currently working with them under contract, and I’m having enough trouble with this as it is.

>From “Alien Contact”, by Timothy Good, in a March 1990 interview:

>From the Pre-Sentence Report, dated 7/27/90, for Lazar’s pandering conviction. This was as related by Lazar to the Parole/Probation officer preparing the report:

8-76, high school graduate, Westbury, New York (verified)

1978, Bachelor of Science Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology, Pacifica University (correspondence university).

1982, Masters of Science in Physics, MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

1985, Masters of Science in Electronic Technology, Cal Tech, California.

>From the “Ultimate UFO Seminar” at Rachel, Nevada, May 1, 1993:

Question:

Bob, could you tell us about your education? I’ve heard a lot of conflicting things; I’d like to hear from you.

Lazar:

That varies widely. As far as electronic technology, my degree there is from CalTech and physics is from MIT.

Question:

Did you go to Pierce College?

Lazar:

Yeah, I did. Where did you hear that?

Question:

A friend that said something, somebody I don’t even know. I just thought, it’s something I want to ask, to clear my mind.

Lazar:

Later…

Question:

What was the year of your graduation from MIT, and did you get a Ph.D.?

Lazar:

No, it was a Masters Degree. The year. What was the year of graduation? Probably 82.

On the “Lark and Craig Morning Show” KOMP 92.3 FM, November 1994

Craig:

Well, you’re a smart guy. Where did you go to school? How many degrees do you have?

Lazar:

Two degrees.

Craig:

In what?

Lazar:

Physics and Electronic Technology.

Craig:

So what is that? A Ph.D.? What is that?

Lazar:

No, they’re Masters degrees.

Craig:

Masters degrees.

Lark:

Wow!

To summarize Lazar’s academic claims on the basis of his public statements he received the following:

A Bachelors Degree in Physics and Electronic Technology from Pacifica University in 1978.

A Masters Degree in Physics from MIT (Thesis: Magnetohydrodynamics) in 1982.

A Masters Degree in either Electronics or Electronic Technology from CalTech in 1985.

Note that there is a reasonable amount of consistency to his story over its various tellings. However, at Lazar’s Rachel talk he said he went to CalTech, then MIT.

Analysis:

If we are to believe “Omni” magazine (and I’ll leave that to the reader’s discretion), in 1985 Lazar was on vacation in Nevada and bought into a legal brothel near Reno.

Now that we have an idea of where and when Lazar was, let’s take a more detailed look at what information is available for each school.

PIERCE COLLEGE: Lazar’s attendance at this institution has been corroborated, although the extent of his attendance is not known. This was done some time ago by Stanton Friedman.

After plowing through all this data, it is enough to satisfy me, personally, that Lazar never attended either CalTech or MIT. Of this I am certain of beyond a reasonable doubt.

Only Lazar has the answer of why.

Possible Explanations:

Lazar has lied, and continues to do so, about his educational background.

A note to the readers:

#CIA CLOWN #RED PILL #REDPILL #ANON #HONKHONK

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