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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 1 year ago

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Voronezh Aliens

In what may be the most bizarre extra-terrestrial encounter ever reported, dozens of eyewitnesses claimed that in the autumn of 1989, a trio of three-eyed aliens — along with their mechanical companion — landed and attacked a pair of teens in a Russian park.

The Russian city of Voronezh is an industrial hub located about 300 miles from Moscow. The city has a population of nearly one million and hardly seems like the kind of isolated region that is ordinarily associated with strange alien encounters, yet on the evening of September 27, 1989, at about 6:30 pm., it became the host of what strikes many as being one of the most unusual, not to mention horrifying, encounters with creatures ever recorded. Eyewitnesses reported that on the evening in question a glowing, deep red, ovoid object — which they estimated to be approximately 45-feet wide and 18-feet high — circled above an area known as Levoberezhniy’s park. Witnesses swore that the “vehicle” hovered less than 40-feet above ground, close enough to disturb the grass below. Then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the UFO soared away, leaving the eyewitnesses perplexed and no doubt more than a little relieved.

That was until the strange craft returned just minutes later. It hovered near a group of grade-school children; including Vasya Surin, Julia Sholokhova, Lena Sarokina, Alyosha Nikonov and Vova Startsev – who were engaged in a soccer match. But it wasn’t only children who saw the UFO. It was also spotted by 35 to 40 adults who were waiting at a nearby bus stop on Poutiline St. Both the kids and adults were awed by the spectacle before them and utterly unprepared for what they were about to see next. According to eyewitness accounts, a hatch on the underside of the still hovering craft opened to reveal an odd, long-armed, neck-less, thick-set, 9-foot tall entity with a small, knob-like head. The creature was clad in a silver jumpsuit with bronze boots and was so large it appeared to fill the hatch opening. As if the creature’s immensity wasn’t disturbing enough, eyewitnesses claimed that there were three luminous eyes wedged into its tiny, dome-like head. The being’s two outer eyes were whitish and the center eye — which was set slightly above the other two — was bright red and “swivelling around like a radar.” They also claimed that the alien had a disk-like object attached to its chest. This bizarre being seemed to methodically scan the terrain below, then sealed the hatch. Then the UFO made its descent.

Eyewitnesses stated that the object’s weight was so substantial that it permanently bent to the side a standing poplar tree that was near the craft. The object then hovered about 5-feet off the ground and extended four leg-like supports and landed softly on the grass. At this point, the alien that was seen through the open hatch now emerged from the ship followed by two equally colossal creatures that shared the same three-eyed visages. These extraordinary entities walked with a “heavy gait” and were followed by what witnesses described as a box-like robot, with push buttons on its front side. An alien adjusted one of the controls on the robot’s chest, enabling it to walk about in a “mechanical” fashion. The entities then began to examine the ground near where their craft had landed and proceeded to take some soil samples. One of the creatures made indecipherable sounds, which some eyewitnesses perceived to be orders. Then a beam of light emerged from the “chief” alien’s chest. The beam delineated a number of luminous triangles and rectangles — about 1-foot by half a foot wide — as if indicating something to its comrades. This frightened one young man so much he apparently cried out in alarm. At the sound the lead alien apparently fixed its gaze on the youngster, freezing him unnaturally in his tracks. This sent panic rippling through the rest of the terrified crowd and — as if this tale could get any weirder — witnesses claim that the aliens and the UFO all simultaneously disappeared. Nevertheless, this encounter was far from over.

Approximately five minutes later, the remaining witnesses, still stunned by what they had witnessed, were once again thrust back into the looking glass as the UFO and its occupants instantaneously reappeared at the same coordinates. One of the creatures was now carrying a “tube” that was about a foot in length. It aimed the tube toward a 16-year-old boy who was nearby and a beam shot out, causing the teen to disappear without a trace. Before a terror filled riot could ensue, the creatures re-entered the UFO. It retracted its landing gear and began its ascent, slowly increasing its speed. Just as the vehicle was disappearing from sight, the vaporized teen miraculously reappeared. Of course, it wasn't long before the press got wind of this harrowing and utterly bizarre tale of UFOs, robots, vanishing “guns” and gargantuan alien invaders.

Soon the story spread across the globe like wildfire.In no time, scores of scientists, Soviet Government agencies and reporters descended upon the city of Voronezh. Those interviewed claimed they had observed this UFO, not just during the incident in question, but also many times between the dates of September 21 and October 2, 1989. An investigation at the scene of the landing indicated that there were depressions in the ground in the shape of a large rhombus that must have been caused by something weighing several tons, but there were conflicting reports as to their cause. Scientists also allegedly found anomalies in the local magnetic field and background radiation, though these findings have also been disputed. Silanov further claimed that unearthly substances were found at the scene: At first glance, they looked like sandstone of a deep-red color. However, mineralogical analysis has shown that the substance cannot be found on Earth. However, additional tests are needed to reach a more definite conclusion.

#Voronezh Aliens #aliens #ufos #weird #creepy

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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 2 years ago

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Voronezh Aliens

#Voronezh Aliens #aliens #ufos #weird #creepy

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public-transportation-tournament · 1 year ago

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Round 1!

The TCAT, Tompkins County, NY, USA vs Seattle Center Monorail, Seattle, WA, USA

M1 (or Millennium Underground Railway, but also known as "the small underground" by locals), Budapest, Hungary vs Grande Recife, Recife, Brazil

London Underground, Greater London, England vs Rotterdam Metro, Rotterdam, Netherlands

Beamish Tramway, Beamish Museum, Beamish, England vs Catbus/Nekobus, Sayama Hills, Saitama Prefecture, Japan (My Neighbor Totoro)

The New York City Subway system, New York City, NY, USA vs Corviknight Flying Taxi, Galar (Pokémon Sword and Shield)

Buenos Aires Underground (Subte), Autonomous City of Buenos Aires, Argentina vs Monte Toboggan, Funchal, Madeira, Portugal

The Stargate Network, throughout the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies (the Stargate franchise) vs the Deepsea Metro, Inkopolis Bay (Splatoon)

CAT, Perth, Western Australia vs SkyTrain, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

Brolly Rail, Nevermoor (Nevermoor by Jessica Townsend) vs Métro Ligne 4, Paris, France

Tyne and Wear Metro, Tyne and Wear, United Kingdom vs the REM, Montreal, Quebec, Canada (upcoming)

Jeepney, the Philippines vs Sea Train, Water 7, connecting it with St. Poplar, San Faldo, and Pucci, as well as the Judicial Island Enies Lobby (One Piece)

The MTR, Hong Kong, PRC vs the Omnibus, New York, NY, USA (1832)

SeaBus, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada vs Wuppertaler Schwebebahn, Wuppertal, Germany

Ice Highway, the Nether Roof (Minecraft) vs Battle Subway, Unova (Pokémon Black and White)

WY Metro, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom vs Tunnelbana, Stockholm, Sweden

MRT (Moda Raya Terpadu/Mass Rapid Transit), Jakarta, Indonesia vs An Luas, Dublin, Ireland

RIPTA (Rhode Island public transit authority) (it’s buses), Rhode Island, USA vs Bakerloo Line, London Underground, London, England

Mount Vesuvius Funicular Railway, Mount Vesuvius, Italy (opened in 1880, destroyed by volcanic eruption in 1944) vs AquaBus, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

Yarra Trams, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia vs SEPTA (southeast pennsylvania transportation authority), Pennsylvania, United States

Cable Cars, San Francisco, California, United States vs MAX Light Rail system, Portland, Oregon, United States

Amtrak, United States vs Fenelon Place Elevator, Dubuque, Iowa, United States

Ninky Nonk, Night Garden (In The Night Garden) vs Prague Metro, Prague, Czech Republic

Polar Bear Express, between Cochrane and Moosonee, Ontario, Canada vs the Crosstown Express, Robot City (Robots (2005))

Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (the T), Greater Boston, Massachusetts, United States vs Worcester Regional Transit Authority, Worcester County, Massachusetts, United States

Kakola Funicular, Turku, Finland vs Angkutan Kota (Angkot), Indonesia

Galaxy Railways, the Milky Way (The Galaxy Railways (銀河鉄道物語, Ginga Tetsudō Monogatari)) vs The Ride, Ann Arbor, Michigan, United States

MST Trolley, Monterey, California, United States vs People Mover, Magic Kingdom, Walt Disney World, Florida, United States

Public Transit Victoria, Victoria, Australia vs Carmelit, Haifa, Israel

The L, Chicago, Illinois, United States vs Leadhills and Wanlockhead Railway, South Lanarkshire, Scotland

Personal Rapid Transit (PRT), Morgantown, West Virginia vs Helsingin seudun liikenne/Helsingforsregionens trafik/Helsinki Regional Transport, Helsinki, Finland

Gondolas, Venice, Italy vs the Trolley from the Trolley Problem (Philippa Foot came up with it originally, but in media it was also presented in "the good place")

Zahnradbahn Stuttgart (die Zacke), Stuttgart (Marienplatz to Degerloch), Baden-Württemberg, Germany vs Detroit People Mover, Detroit, Michigan, United States

Warp Pipes (Super Mario Bros.) vs SCMaglev, Yamanashi, Japan

Transport Canberra Bus Network, Canberra, Australia vs Stagways, Hallownest (Hollow Knight)

Roosevelt Island Tram, Roosevelt Island, New York, NY, United States vs NJ Transit (Northeast Corridor), New Jersey, United States

Sunrail, Orlando, Florida, United States vs Bay Area Rapid Transit, Bay Area, California, United States

Purple Route (Charm City Circulator), Baltimore, Maryland, United States vs Alderney Ferry (Halifax Transit), Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada

Millennium Line, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada vs MARTA, Atlanta, Georgia, United States

Dual Mode Vehicle (DMV), Asa Coast Railway, Shikoku, Japan vs Lynton and Lynmouth Cliff Railway, Lynmouth, England, UK

Hovercraft, Portsmouth - Ryde, UK vs Funiculars, the Questionable Area (Psychonauts 2)

WildNorWester, Sodor (The Railway Series) vs Shinkansen, Japan

Métro de Paris, Paris, France vs Metro do Porto, Porto, Portugal

Deutsche Bahn, Germany vs UC Davis Unitrans Bus System, Davis, California

Vaporetti, Venice, Italy vs Harbour Bus, Copenhagen, Denmark

#hopefully i did the links right

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fourteen-teacups · 2 years ago

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O Christmas Tree 🎄

It’s been a long while since I posted any fic, but it’s Christmas… a bit of festive Turner family fluff, set in December 1967, just before the s12 CS

Thank you @thatginchygal and @wednesdaygilfillian for your support and for being my writing buddies! 🥰🥰

🎄🎄🎄

We're going to have a lovely spruce.

Timothy chuckled to himself as he remembered Mum’s words from that Christmas long ago. So much had changed in the eight years since Angela’s first Christmas -- and yet some things remained exactly the same. The annual evergreen tree was currently bundled into the rear of the Turner’s estate car as Tim manoeuvred the vehicle out of the last dark country lane and back into the city.

Out of necessity, he had learned to drive during Dad’s convalescence. Tim was more than grateful he could help ferry his family about during this time, but the independence it provided was equally valuable. Especially when he thought ahead to eventually qualifying as a doctor. Although he liked to think, when the time came, he’d be driving something sportier.

This evening the family had been shopping at a Christmas tree farm in the countryside, just outside of London. Mr Buckle suggested the idea to Dad, who had been similarly enthusiastic regarding the outing. Traditionally, the Turners chose a tree from the stall at the Poplar Christmas Market but, since the accident, Mum and Dad had been more intentional about seizing every opportunity.

Timothy’s heart clenched in a moment of anguish, imagining all they could have lost on that autumn night. But his distress was immediately replaced with joy, recalling the way his siblings had worn themselves out in the excitement of running around the festive lot.

*****

“Over here!” Teddy called, before ducking for cover behind a sturdy conifer, daring his sisters to seek him out.

Tim watched as May dashed forward, but mistakenly turned away from the row of trees concealing her younger brother.

Angela’s more methodical approach allowed her to spy a tiny red mitten as it contrasted with the pine needles. Her eyes shone in triumph as she looked first to Timothy, then ran ahead to claim her victory.

Teddy’s shrieks alerted May and the three of them reunited for a brief moment, then took off again in separate directions.

Several rows over, Dad was speaking with the owner of the farm while Mum circled a nearby tree, inspecting it for flaws. “How fresh would you say this is?” Timothy heard her ask, as she reached to test the needles with a gloved hand. He couldn’t hear the man’s response but saw in Mum’s smile that she was pleased with the answer. Looking up, she caught his eye and beckoned him over. “What do you think, Timothy, is it filled out evenly?”

Tim followed her around the specimen and agreed there were no bare spots. “It’s the perfect height, too,” he added, measuring it against himself. Mum made a predictable face that communicated she was equally proud and exasperated, causing Tim to laugh out loud.

Tapping his father’s arm, she put on her professional demeanor once again. “This one should do nicely.” Dad winked at her -- it was embarrassing how he not-so-secretly loved her authoritative streak -- but when he tried reaching for the tree, Mum promptly stopped him and began to explain his recent injury to the proprietor.

Taking that as his cue, Timothy set off to chase his siblings through the tree lot one last time.

*****

Now all was quiet within the estate car as the road hummed gently beneath the tyres. The newly purchased tree stuck partly out the open back window allowing the crisp December air to circulate throughout the vehicle. To Tim’s left, Angela and May slept propped against each other, still wrapped snugly in their matching pink coats.

From the back seat, the low tones of Dad’s voice reached him. “Perhaps this will be the start of a new tradition.”

Timothy’s eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, briefly meeting his father’s eyes and catching the delighted grin on Mum’s face. Tim couldn’t help but think of the lost tradition of the silver tree, but he kept silent. He was beginning to understand that his dad’s passion for healing extended beyond the physical body. And though the memory still rankled slightly, he nodded his agreement.

Despite his vexation, Tim acknowledged the positive developments brought on by the passing years: another sister, and the excitement of Teddy’s arrival. He glanced at the mirror again, but couldn’t see his brother in the reflection. More than likely, Teddy was curled up on the back seat with his head in Mum’s lap.

Dad was speaking again, but it was too low for him to hear. Timothy assumed he was trying not to wake the little ones -- that is, until he heard Mum’s giggle. With a barely suppressed sigh, he turned his head to the rear of the vehicle, only to find them beaming innocently back at him. As their long-suffering son, he shook his head and returned his eyes to the road. The more things change, the more they stay the same. While Tim navigated along streets draped in coloured lights, the car was filled not only with the scent of their lovely spruce, but also the muted sounds of his overly-affectionate parents’ sweet nothings. And perhaps not-so-secretly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

#call the midwife #ctm christmas fic #turnadette #turner family

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warsawmountain · 20 days ago

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The 305

The 305 idles at the curb, its diesel engine grumbling like a half-starved sled dog—pulling against an unseen tether, yearning to run free across the frozen tundra. But there is no tundra here, only the hard angles and sharp edges of the city, cold concrete and colder glass reflecting the anemic glow of the sodium-vapor streetlights. I huddle deeper into my parka, the rabbit-fur trim tickling my cheeks, a small comfort against the bone-deep chill that seeps through the plexiglass walls of the bus shelter.

Winnipeg. Riel's city, named for the rebel and martyr who fought and died for the rights of the Métis people, for the dream of a homeland on the banks of the Red River. But the river is frozen now, a ribbon of dirty ice winding through the heart of the city, its secrets locked away beneath the snow and silence. The land is frozen too, locked in a battle between the relentless march of progress and the stubborn persistence of the past.

I fish a cigarette from my pocket, cupping my hands against the wind as I light it. The first drag burns my lungs, a welcome pain, a reminder that I am still alive, still fighting. The smoke mingles with my breath, ghostly tendrils curling in the air before dissipating into the night. Ghostly, like the spirits of the ancestors that haunt this land, whispering in the rustling of the poplar leaves, in the creaking of the birch bark, in the mournful howl of the winter wind.

The land is sacred, the elders say. Sacred like the Sun Dance, the ancient ritual of sacrifice and renewal, where the dancers pierce their flesh with bone and sinew, offering their pain to the Creator in exchange for healing and hope. Sacred like the Métis flag, the infinity symbol woven in beads and thread, a promise of eternal connection, of a people unbroken by time and tide. Sacred like the Michif language, a blend of Cree and French and English and secret signs, a language of resistance and resilience, a language that refuses to be silenced.

But the land is also scarred, scarred by the legacy of colonialism, by the wounds of the residential schools and the Sixties Scoop, by the poisoned rivers and the clearcut forests and the gaping wounds of the open-pit mines. Scarred like the faces of the missing and murdered Indigenous women, their stories etched in the lines of their families' grief, in the cracks of the system that failed them, in the heavy silence of a nation's shame.

I take another drag, the nicotine buzz a fleeting escape from the weight of history, the weight of memory. The bus shelter is a chrysalis, a liminal space between the world of the city and the world of the spirit, between the past and the future, between who I am and who I could be. The land is inside me, in the marrow of my bones and the beat of my heart, in the curve of my cheekbones and the copper of my skin. The land is me, and I am the land, and together we are dreaming a new dream, a dream of healing and hope, a dream of a people rising like the prairie grass after a wildfire, stronger and greener and more alive than ever before.

The 305 rounds the corner, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a pow-wow drum cutting through the silence. Going home, to a place that is not a place but a feeling, a sense of belonging, a connection to something greater than myself. Going home, to the land that holds my stories, my secrets, my scars. Going home, to the future that is waiting to be born, to the dream that is waiting to be dreamed.

I flick my cigarette into the gutter and climb aboard the bus, nodding to the driver as I swipe my card. The doors hiss shut behind me, and the engine roars to life, carrying me forward, carrying me home

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bananana-boat · 3 months ago

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Eye floaties

I'm certain we've all experienced it at some point, wondered what it was we you're seeing just at the edge of you vision. I experienced it again just the other day, and it really got me thinking.

I was taking a break between classes, the late-summer is quite temperate here in the Appalachian mountains, and I found a little bench next to some trees that was just perfect for lying on. I was inspired by a poem I'd recently read, I can't recall which one exactly, but I believe it was a piece by Mary Oliver talking about the movement of the trees that one can only notice when lying under them. I humored my artistic side and I looked up into the canopy above me, a couple pines behind me, an oak and a poplar at my feet, trying to see what the leaves could tell me. They all seemed to dance in their own special ways with the wind. When I started looking closer, that's when I caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye- the eye floaties.

You see, I have a theory about these little things. When I was curious in my childhood (which I often was), I had asked the grown ups around me, What are those little things? Answers would range anywhere from "eye floaties" (of course), to "bacteria", "sun spots", etc. I'm sure science has some sort of justified explanation to this phenomenon, but none of these answers have ever really sat well with me. And it wasn't until recently that I realized, hey, I'm a grown up.

And I have a better answer.

Those little spots you see floating in your vision sometimes can be described as Hidden Creatures. You might be skeptical at first, but soon I think you'll understand where I'm coming from. Have you ever felt a pair of eyes watching you? You find yourself walking down the street, the road is silent for once and nobody's on the sidewalk with you, but you just can't shake the feeling that there's something behind you? You can turn your back and look, but you won't see anyone.

Perhaps you're in the waiting room at the doctors office- there's that lady behind the counter paying you no attention, an old man on the other side of the room drifting off to sleep every ten seconds, but for some reason it just feels like there's someone else near you.

Or maybe even It's happened to you in a crowded place. You just stepped into the packed afternoon bus, happy to finally be in the air conditioning, when you begin to feel a dreadful feeling- like something just climbed up your spine and onto your scalp. With not a single bug in sight, you wonder if you're becoming delirious.

You, my friend, might have been in the company of a Hidden Creature. There are many different kinds of Hidden Creatures, but they are all, as you might assume from the name, hard to see. Some like to hide in the shadows, behind a piece of furniture, or under a parked car, just where the light can't reach them. Some exist right in your blind spot, waiting for you to turn just enough so they can carry about their business.

The ones I'm discussing today live in the air, and they have a very special way of hiding themselves. In fact, they hide in the most genius spot possible to hide- in plain sight. Whether it be some kind of magic that keeps them hidden or a loophole in the worlds physics is beyond me, after all I'm just someone rambling on the internet about a nap I took on a bench. I think it might be one of those mind tricks, like how you can see your nose sitting there between your eyes if you think about it, but otherwise it's just invisible.

You might be thinking to yourself, "there's no evidence of this" "no such things as Hidden Creatures" "you're just making stuff up". And that all might be true! But, next time you find yourself in a position where something peculiar happened and you just can't explain it, maybe you'll remember this post and think twice about the life that exists just beyond what you think you know.

#fantasy #writing #short story #hidden creatures #creatures #appalachia #eye floaters

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e-a-noe-henry · 3 months ago

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theft of a masterwerkz somewhere between the years of our lord 1503 to 1506 rembrandt completed a painting that would become a moderately known art werk , sold to the king of france and ultimately displayed at the louvre in paris . the louvre was a museum that had opened in 1793 but the exact year it arrived is cloudy but the small painting on a poplar plank measuring only 32” x 26 “ hung between two large masterpieces . a cabinet craftsman and part time louvre employee named vincenzo peruggia ( 1881- 1925 ) one night on the 21 of august 1911 walked into the barely guarded museum and plucked her right off the fucking wall , leaving but four pins in which she hung . a different world then we live in there were no alarms and peruggia walked past a snoozing guard , boarded a bus and went home . for the next two years it stayed there coming out only periodically to be admired, back at the museum a full twelve hours after the heist a photographer came in wanting to take the painting back to his studio to photograph and then a full 24 hours later the photographer inquired about which artist had the painting because it would be lent out regularly for these purposes , only 4 pins remained where the piece once hung , meanwhile peruggia had been visited and questioned at the dining table in which the painting had been hid below the tabletop , word got out and thousands flocked to the louvre to see the empty place the mona lisa once hung . closed a full week the louvre had thousands more visitors than ever had come before . overnight it had become a world sensation . the painting was valued at a hefty $ 720 million dollars in current money value , the louvre was never prepared for a theft but braced itself for vandals who apparently had struck many times before , as hope for it’s return was being given up , ole peruggia took it to italy where he believed it belonged but was turned in by the buyer and promptly arrested , the ensuing trial was a spectacle and peruggia found guilty but received a light sentence due to what authorities called intellectual deficiencies on the part of peruggia . one and really the only real suspect of the theft was no other than pablo picasso because he had been caught with some stolen items that were bought by him . it was 1913 when she was recovered , she now attracts over seven million visitors a year , and sits in a box that she was put in around 1909 , but to most that know the real story know without peruggia ….. the mona lisa by rembrandt would be just another master works … not the master works , good story right ? i have left out copious amounts of info trying to keep this thing readable so if your interested google v. peruggia and there it will be , peace t. d.

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yumikomoon · 3 months ago

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Just a little piece of my mind, it’s just my opinions. I still go to school( not telling you which type) and I have a few problems and things that I want to get off my mind.

1. There’s this guy on my bus that i think likes me. I don’t like him, as he’s not my type. I haven’t talked to him or have him any signs. The only time that I have talked to him is when he says sorry and I reply with it’s okay your of basic human respect. He’s also has a bit more mass and he stinks too. I’m always up against the window and he has to sit next to the aisle. There’s nothing wrong with sitting near the window but I’ve seen him stall so he can sit near the aisle. He’s also friends with the popular kids on the bus but I don’t think it’s a friend friendship more like they make fun of him. But I don’t want to get on their poplar kids bad side or be told that I’m discriminatory. What should I do?

2. School this year feels so long already.

3. I want to dress more of my style but I’m afraid that people will judge me. I’m chubby and I’m not very confident about my body. I also have hairy legs and I don’t want to shave yet because I don’t want to run the risk of strawberry legs and I don’t want to wax either. I know it seems like I’m creating problems for myself, but hair grows back quicker after you shave/wax it and I don’t have the time to keep doing it.

4. I want to start dating but I can’t seem to find anybody who likes chubby girls. I don’t want to be desperate but I want to know how it feels like to be in a relationship before I end school.

5. School’s just tiring this year.

Thank you for listening to my ramble.

#hello #Yumika’s rambles #thoughts #i need some help #what do you think?#girl problems

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annwrites · 6 months ago

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⸻ hey, sweetheart, need a ride? ⸻

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: billy drives you home one day & asks you on a date. you have a few interactions at school · word count: 2,559

"Hey, sweetheart, need a ride?"

You stop in your tracks—currently headed in the direction of the school bus which will take you home—and see Billy Hargrove, reaching across the interior of his Camaro, popping open the passenger side door with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you.

He even winks.

You glance to the bus, then back to him.

"Sure my car is a lot more comfortable than the bus," he calls to you.

You take a step toward his vehicle, then another, then lower yourself inside, shutting the door, unsure what you're doing. Or, rather, why.

He's not been at Hawkins High long—a couple of months—but he's already gotten just a tad on your bad side.

He sits behind you in English, and more than once your ponytail has been gently tugged at or yanked. And every time you've turned around—telling yourself you’re going to finally have it out with him over it—he flashes you a dazzling smile and tells you "sorry" or "my mistake".

A few times, he's feigned complete ignorance when you had looked back, a blank look on his face, a brow raised, him asking "somethin' you need darlin'?".

You always turned back around, mouth shut, and sometimes heard him then snicker. You just rolled your eyes and sat forward, closer to your desk.

Once you’re buckled, you look to Billy, and watch as his eyes trail along your bare legs, up to the hem of your sundress, which stops at your mid-thighs, then up your chest, until finally settling on your eyes. "Where to, doll?"

You feel half-tempted to get back out.

You don't, however.

"Just home. Do you know where Poplar Tree Road is?"

His eyes continue to stare into your own, left arm propped against his open window, right gripping the wheel. "Mhm."

Finally, he readjusts, placing his left hand against the wheel, right atop the shifter, and he peels out of the school parking lot.

It's not but maybe a couple minutes later that he grabs a cassette out of the glovebox, slips it into the player in the dash, and turns the volume up to blast Metal Health by Quiet Riot.

You wince at the sound of the overtly loud music, but say nothing—not that he’d hear you if you did, anyway.

He shifts gears, making the car jerk, and the hem of your sundress flutters, briefly flashing your light-pink panties underneath, and you panic, shoving it back down, holding it in-place, and when you look at Billy—cheeks burning—he’s already looking at you with a satisfied, toothy grin, chewing gum in the corner of his mouth.

He shifts gears again, causing you to lurch forward, and he looks back to the road.

You settle back against the seat, trying to catch your bearings, until he shifts gears yet again, speeding up—the engine revving.

You glance over to the speedometer, knowing the speed limit through this particular part of town is, at most, forty, and see he’s now going well over fifty-five. You want to tell him to please slow down, but know it’d do absolutely no good. You know that he’s well-aware of what he’s doing.

He’s trying to show-off, hoping to impress you.

The music, the shifting gears and speeding, and flashing you smiles and winks. Instead, all he’s managing to do is scare the living daylights out of you, and make you think of him as utterly reckless.

You decide to never catch a ride with him again. How long has he been behind the wheel, anyway? A year, a few months? You worry—or, rather, hope, for the safety of others—that maybe he’ll get his license revoked for such idiotic actions.

Once he’s climbed to sixty, you decide to finally speak up, heart now pounding as you whiz past residential homes and people walking their pets on the sidewalk.

“Could you please slow down?” You yell at him over the radio.

He glances to you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, you say somethin’, baby? I can’t hear you over the stereo!”

He shifts gears again and you lean back, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life as he hangs a right turn.

You notice that you’re on your street and you finally reach forward, turning the music down to a comfortable level. “I live just up here.”

Once Billy has parked on the curb, just in front of your house, you unbuckle yourself with slightly-shaking hands.

You grab your backpack from between your feet and look at him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He has his arm propped against the open window again, his fingers drumming lightly against the top of the car. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You turn to get out, until he speaks.

“So, listen, I was thinking.”

You turn back to him.

“Friday Night at the drive-in theater they’re having a showing of Nightmare on Elm Street. I was wondering if you’d want to go with me? Don’t worry, if you get scared, I’ll hold your hand,” he says, giving you a flirtatious smirk.

You lean back in your seat, clutching your backpack to the front of you. You know what he’s really after, and it isn’t sharing the love of cinema.

You glance out the windshield, then look back to him and sigh. “So, is that was this was, then? I thought you were doing this to be nice. To maybe make up for all the times you’ve yanked on my hair in class and picked on me. Instead, it’s to try and make another notch in your belt. Right?”

He stays quiet, staring you down, all humor now gone from his expression, fingers stilled.

You go to get out of the car and he throws at you, “I was willing to pay for your ticket and everything. Guess I can just save my money for something worth my time now.”

You get out, shutting the door behind you. You lean down, refusing to take the bait as you give him a kind smile. “Thanks again for the ride.”

He turns the car over, revving the engine. “Don’t get used to it—it won’t be happening again. Stuck-up bitch.”

He roars away, leaving you standing there, fuming.

When you enter English class the next day, you glance up, noting Billy is already present and seated.

You desperately wish the teacher had put you anywhere but in front of him. But, as the class is full, asking to move seats would require switching with someone else, and you’re sure such a sudden change in seating arrangements would then generate talk—rumors—among your peers.

So, you decide to continue suffering through it instead.

You walk over to your desk, pulling out your textbook, binder, and other materials, and Billy glances to you, then to Angela Cammers, who sits to your right.

“Hey, Angie?”

She immediately turns back to him with a wide smile, elated he’s finally talking to her after two months of being at school.

“Yeah, Billy?” She asks sweetly.

He leans forward, hands folded atop his desk.

“You want to go to the drive-in theater with me tomorrow night to see Elm Street?” He gives her a handsome smile then.

Her heart jumps at the invitation.

“I’ll even buy your ticket. We can go in my Camaro.”

He glances to you, and your expression remains passive, as if you’d not even heard him, as you choose a pencil for class today.

He then looks back to Angela.

She nods excitedly. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

He gives her a wink. “It’s a date, then.”

Finally, you sit without even a minuscule reaction toward him.

He grinds his jaw, burning a hole in the back of your head. Then, he reaches forward, yanking roughly against your ponytail.

Hard enough to rip out a couple long hairs.

You immediately reach up, cupping the back of your head, and turn abruptly back toward him. “Ow! That hurt, Billy!”

Angela’s head snaps back in your two’s direction, but Billy pays her no mind as he leans back, crossing his muscled arms and shrugging. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

You continue to glare at him and his lip twitches, which only serves to deepen your hatred.

Neither of you bother breaking eye-contact until, finally, the teacher speaks. “Mister Hargrove, Miss Y/N, is something the matter?”

You slowly turn back around, a pleasant smile now on your face. “No, Mister Barnes, I was just answering a question Billy had about last night’s homework.”

He nods, turning back to the blackboard to begin writing today’s lesson.

And then you hear from behind you, “Bitch.”

You fold your hands tightly together, fighting against finally exploding and letting him have it after weeks of picking on you—it’d started damn-near day one with him—and instead just turn your head infinitesimally to the left and mutter “asshole”, before turning your eyes back to the teacher at the front of the room.

His nostrils flare, muscles flexing, as he squeezes his hands into fists. He then slams his boots down on the metal basket under your chair and you bounce lightly in your seat.

The two of you remain silent for the rest of class, both quietly seething.

The next day is finally Friday, meaning you’ll soon have two days away from Billy’s irritating presence.

Same as always, you’re standing before your desk, readying your materials for class, when Steve Harrington walks past you, greeting you kindly.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says with a smile.

You return the gesture. Finally, someone pleasant to talk to.

“Hey, Steve,” you reply warmly.

Billy briefly considers giving the “Prince-of-the-School” one hell of an after-school special of an ass-whooping behind the bleachers once the day is through.

In the meantime, however, he simply glares at him, which Steve takes note of, but doesn’t let get to him. It’s not as if he likes the guy much in return.

Steve then takes his seat to the right of your desk and he speaks to you again. “Hey, a few of us are planning on going to Twistee Treat after school, you want to come?”

You smile, feeling happy that someone at school is finally asking to involve you in something.

You mostly keep to yourself, but Steve has always been nice to you. Nancy, too, in the few times you’ve spoken to her. But you aren’t entirely sure what, exactly, is going on with the pair of them at the moment.

“Sure,” you say happily.

Billy’s rage is near-palpable at this point. And he of course injects himself into the conversation.

He looks to Steve. “Don’t waste your time, man. She’s a fuckin’ prude.”

You blanch, then fill with anger.

You speak before Steve can try to come to your rescue. “No, I just didn’t want to go to the movies with you, Billy. If I’d agreed, and given you what you’re obviously after, I’d end up being called a slut instead. Can’t win either way with guys like you, huh?”

He leans forward, the look on his face now irate.

He doesn’t notice Angela now looking at him with a hurt expression. He points his index finger at you. “Listen here, you cun—”

“Alright, class, let’s take our seats,” the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

You swiftly seat yourself, crossing your legs, expression now serene.

Meanwhile, your body is practically vibrating with anger.

On Monday, when you enter class, you keep your eyes focused on your desk as you make your way to it, refusing to look at Billy’s smug face.

But, ever the chatterbox, he of course speaks to you, not just letting things go.

“Hey, Y/N, you have a nice weekend?” He asks with obviously-feigned interest.

You shrug. “It was okay. I had a nice time Friday night. You?”

His jaw flexes.

He still has half-a-mind to kick Harrington’s ass.

He’d driven by Twistee Treat before going to pick up Angela, and had seen you and Harrington sitting side-by-side, laughing, eating ice-cream, surrounded by his friends. He’d never seen you so damn happy, and had wanted nothing more than to ruin the moment, but had known with all Steve’s little buddies with him, he’d have been outnumbered. So, he’d instead driven away, his mood soured.

He smirks, leaning back, folding his hands behind his head. “Oh, I had a great fuckin’ time.”

You smile warmly. “That’s good.”

He nods. “Mhm.”

He leans forward, closer to you.

“Even got lucky in the backseat of my car,” he says with a wink.

You give him an impressed look. “Wow, go Angie.”

You then go back to organizing your things on your desk.

That’s all the fucking reaction he’s going to get? That’s it?

You sit, and he watches as Steve smiles the minute he lays eyes on you.

He snaps his pencil in two.

After class, Angela meets Billy at his locker, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, books hugged against her chest.

“Hi, Billy,” she says adoringly.

He glances to her with a raised brow, expression bored. “Hey.”

She barely notices his poor reaction to her sudden presence. “Would you want to come over to my house after school to study? And then, maybe after, we can go get ice-cream at this place nearby?”

He shoves a book onto the top shelf of his locker, now irritated.

She wants to go to the same damn place Harrington had taken you on, what he assumes was your first date? No way in hell.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks, tone flat.

Her face falls. “Oh. I just… I guess because Friday night we…y’know.”

He slams his locker closed. “I already got what I wanted. I’m not interested in anything else from you.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “But—”

He steps past her and she watches as he strides down the hall, then reaches out toward you—who is currently occupied talking to Steve Harrington—and yanks on your ponytail.

You quickly swing around, yelling at him, while he sticks his tongue out in an open-mouthed smile, walking backward for a moment, before turning to continue heading to his next class.

She grows even more upset and makes her way to you, reaching you just as Steve steps away.

“Is something going on between you and Billy?”

You look at her, taken aback at being asked such a thing.

“Like what?” You ask, confused.

“Like…do you have a thing?”

Your brows raise in incredulity. Is…is he spreading rumors that you do?

“Why would you think that?” You ask, now panicked.

“I saw him. He does it all the time: pulling your hair. Like little boys do when they like a girl. And I heard you say Friday that he asked you to the movies first. Which he told me was bullshit when he came to get me for our date, by the way. He said you were making things up because you were jealous.”

You let out a laugh, which hadn’t been intended.

You quickly compose yourself.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. Just at the notion of me being jealous of someone going on a date with him.”

You close your locker then. “I can’t stand him, Angela. Believe me when I say you’re welcome to him, even if I think you—anyone, really—deserves far better.”

You head to fifth period then, leaving her standing there.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x fem!oc #billy hargrove x female reader

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quweary · 1 year ago

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There’s a smooth stretch of road below Montgomery Park. The only cars there in the evening are parked; they double as houses, and there’s a pleasant hum coming from most of them. Music, propane stoves, and chatter.

The first time we skateboarded there together, I skinned my knee, and called it a knee tap. When they saw the blood in the light, they chastised me for downplaying the damage, while I worried about whether they thought I was tough. That was a short enough time ago that I still have the scab.

But this story is about tonight, which was the third time we skated there. They’re leaving town soon, and everything has felt bittersweet lately.

The sun was sinking gold over slabtown, the first overcast evening in weeks. We rolled through a few puddles and over speed bumps and cracks in the sidewalk. We passed pedestrians and fancy bar patrons. A security guard glared at us. They hardly stopped at 4-way intersections, just carving lazily between both lanes. I tried not to flush as I fumbled my board at crosswalks, or leaned too far forward. I kept my expression steady as I occasionally careened into an abrupt run, the board flying out of my body’s orbit.

We took the gentle crest below the looming neon sign. I felt the vibrations of the board on the pavement dull to a single note as I accelerated. Trying not to think about the hardware in my once-broken leg, I watched them ahead of me. Their fingertips reached out to brush along the length of an idling bus. I copied their graceful, relaxed leaning the best I could. Light broke through the wispy clouds ahead of us, refracting a patch of kaleidoscope sky. “WHOA DUDE, A RAINBOW!” I shouted over to them, and they smiled at me over their shoulder. Suddenly feeling clumsy, I stomped out with my pushing foot, and each nerve in that calf reminded me that my bones were absorbing the impact.

They stopped at the foot of this street, in a flat parking lot full of weeds; time’s fingers creeping through the neglected surface. “Wow, this place is just asking to be a DIY spot, man!” I realized that I sounded like a dork, but they agreed with me anyway. There was a bounty of perfectly ripe blackberries, juicy and falling from their thorny vines. I picked a few, but they didn’t. “I had some this morning, with my girlfriend. We went for a walk after the food bank.” They said. The berries stained my fingers violet as I pulled them from the thicket. We were at a relative high point, looking over the pearl. Directly below us, a razor-wire fence surrounded a few dozen shiny, new electric trucks.

They asked if I wanted to try a block further north, towards the Schoolies with hand-stitched curtains and steel recycling warehouses. The sidewalk looked surprisingly smooth. We took it to a busy cross-street. I pressed the crosswalk button but didn’t wait for the light to change, because there was a break in traffic and they were already halfway across. There was a steep drop on the other side, and a long, winding tar slope with a double-yellow line snaking right below it.

“I think that after this hill it tapers off. You know, follows the river.” I offered, hoping this didn’t mean we’d turn around just yet. “Yeah I think so. This is where it gets all cool and industrial,” They confirmed. I started walking down the hill with my board on my shoulders. “I’m not doing it.�� They hesitated, but then grinned. “I will.” They lifted their toes from the tail of their board, and their front wheels clattered to the ground. I smiled with them. “Don’t die.” “I’ll do my best, man.” They giggled as they pushed off, rolling slowly at first. “I mean it! If you die, I’ll be really pissed at you.” I hoped silently that they didn’t read that statement the wrong way.

Following them on foot, I watched them stretch their fingers to the sky. They leaned to carve curves into their path, and I thought of poplar trees arcing flexibly in the breeze. Their sweatshirt whipped around them as they picked up more speed. Their board began to wobble ominously. I held my breath as they zipped out of sight, around the corner and behind a fence. I jogged to catch up with them.

When I saw their face (upright and over their board) I felt relief wash over me. They shouted something I didn’t quite understand. I thought of the way that they like to whoop and howl when they’re in the ocean, or the woods, or feeling particularly alive.

“WHAT?” I shouted back. “BRO, DID YOU SEE MY SPEED WOBBLES?” They repeated, rolling back uphill towards me.

“YEAH I DID!” I ran towards them for a high five. “You know, I knew logically that you’d be okay, but I thought for sure for a second that you were a goner.” They pivoted back downhill as I dropped my board and held it under my toes. “See, this is the amount of hill that I have in me.” I stepped on the board for the final few feet of the hill.

“Fuck yeah, man! That’s progress,” They beamed at me.

We cruised another few minutes, until we reached a long row of extra-large concrete blocks (marked NO TRESPASSING) at the border of a warehouse lot. There was a marine paint shop across the street with an explosive mural, swirling with colors and faces. “This seems like a good spot to stop and smoke a J.” They suggested, and I lifted myself onto the crude cast fence without hesitation, my board leaned beside me. They hopped up next to me, and the block we sat atop was just narrow enough that our thighs were almost touching. I tried not to notice that.

“Thanks for not dying,” I managed. They chuckled. “Man, that was crazy! I thought, ah, naw man! I’m gonna crash, and Charlie’s gonna be mad at me.” “Damn right I would! I don’t want to scrape you out of the road.” I grinned at them. “Hey, I have to get you back sometime. For passing out on me.” They nudged me. “Thanks for not letting me hit my head. It’s your turn next.”

We tittered about karma and injury for a moment. I reminisced about how they dropped everything they were doing when my leg was broken, and showed up to bring my girlfriend to the hospital. I thought about how they brought me home and cared for me in those first days of recovery. How they stuck around to keep me company while I moped about not walking. They chose to keep coming around long enough to teach me to skateboard.

“Thanks for being there for me. I mean it.” “No, thank you. You’ve returned it tenfold.” They said softly. I pointed to their cigarette, “Can I hit that?” “Yeah, can I hit that?” They pointed to my joint. I tried not to flush again as we traded, and our fingers brushed.

I tried not to think about how both of our worlds could be blown apart in minutes. How much I could ruin if I just leaned in to kiss them. I tried not to think about whether they’d thought of it.

We waited for the orange near-full moon to dangle above us before we moved. We skated back in near-darkness. We claimed the streets in that agile state between pedestrian and vehicle. When we rolled back to our cars (including the one that doubled as their home) I was surprised to be back so soon.

They loomed near my hatchback as I tucked my board into a thin fleece blanket. “Well. Thanks for hanging out.” They looked down at their feet as they addressed me. “Yeah, this was fun.” They held out their arms for a lingering hug. “I love you,” They said. “I love you too, dude. Man.”

I watched them wander away in my rearview mirror, and made sure to play the song they showed me as I drove off.

#short story #pining #portland #pdx #skateboarding #n

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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 1 year ago

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Voronezh Aliens

Approximately five minutes later, the remaining witnesses, still stunned by what they had witnessed, were once again thrust back into the looking glass as the UFO and its occupants instantaneously reappeared at the same coordinates. One of the creatures was now carrying a “tube” that was about a foot in length. It aimed the tube toward a 16-year-old boy who was nearby and a beam shot out, causing the teen to disappear without a trace. Before a terror filled riot could ensue, the creatures re-entered the UFO. It retracted its landing gear and began its ascent, slowly increasing its speed. Just as the vehicle was disappearing from sight, the vaporized teen miraculously reappeared. Of course, it wasn’t long before the press got wind of this harrowing and utterly bizarre tale of UFOs, robots, vanishing “guns” and gargantuan alien invaders.

#aliens #ufos #ufo #unsolved mysteries #unsolved

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tibbivearomatikbitkiler · 2 years ago

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<b>Stresli bitkiler</b> ile bahçeniz sessiz olamaz!

Stresli bitkiler ile bahçeniz sessiz olamaz!

#Dehidrasyon, #Israel, #Israil, #Stres, #StresliBitkiler, #TelAvivÜniversitesi https://is.gd/v6SIvK https://www.tibbivearomatikbitkiler.com/haberler/stresli-bitkiler-ile-bahceniz-sessiz-olamaz/

Stresli bitkiler insanların duyamayacağı çok yüksek perdeli ses çıkartır, ancak diğer memeliler, böcekler ve hatta diğer bitkiler onları duyabilir. Bahçeniz düşündüğünüz kadar sessiz olmayabilir. Yeni bir çalışma, bitkilerin sıkıntıyı — sesleriyle ilettiğini, ancak insanların — duyması için çok yüksek perdeli olduğunu, bir metreden daha uzaktaki diğer bitkiler ve yaratıklar tarafından alınabileceğini gösteriyor.

İsrail Tel Aviv Üniversitesi’ndeki evrimsel biyologlar bu sinyalleri domates ve tütün bitkilerinden belirlediler. Bitkileri herhangi bir potansiyel gürültüyü izole etmek için ses yalıtımlı bir akustik odaya yerleştirdiler, daha sonra sudan mahrum ederek ve saplarını keserek kasıtlı olarak vurguladılar. Kondenser ultrason mikrofonları ortaya çıkan sesleri aldı ve bir kayıt ara yüzüne geri besledi. Araştırmacılar izole sesler elde ettikten sonra, bitkileri bir seraya yerleştirdiler ve kaydı tekrarladılar.

İLGİNİZİ ÇEKEBİLİR: Bitkiler stres durumunda ultrasonik kıvılcım çıkarıyor!

Bu sesi ve boş bir seradan gelen bir kaydı kullanarak, araştırmacılar, ( stres sinyalleri ve normal ortam sera gürültüsü arasında ayrım yapmak için evrişim sinir ağlarını ) CNN’i eğittiler. Gerçekten de ayırt etmek için stres sesleri vardı, araştırmacılar mısır, buğday, asma ekledikten sonra bile onları farklı dehidrasyon ve parçalanma sinyallerine ayırabilirler.

Ekip, stressiz ve stresli bitkiler gürültü üretirken, stresli bitkilerin kaygısız meslektaşlarından çok daha fazla gürültü yaydığını buldu. İnsan kulaklarıyla uyumlu bir frekansa indirildiğinde, gürültü kabarcık sargısı veya hatta özellikle tatmin edici bir mekanik klavye tarafından üretilen poplar gibi geliyor. Zirvede, bu poplar ortalama bir insan konuşmasından 65 dB SPL ( ses basıncı seviyesi ) veya 5 dB SPL daha yüksek bir yoğunluk etrafında toplandı. Yaklaşık 57 kilohertz frekansında, sesler insanlar tarafından duyulmayacak kadar yüksek perdeli idi.

İLGİNİZİ ÇEKEBİLİR: Kaliteli Çikolata Aroması için Stresli Kakao Ağaçları!

Biyologlar stresli bitkilerin saatte 30 ila 50 pop arasında bir yerde yaratıldığını, yaklaşık beş günde su olmadan arttığını ve bitkiler tamamen kurudukça azaldığını ortaya koyuyor. Kesme bitkileri susuz bitkilerden daha kısa süreler için ses yayar, çünkü kesikler dehidrasyondan daha akut bir stresördür. En önemlisi, bu sesler havadaydı. Araştırmacılar bir süredir bitkilerin belirli koşullar altında ultrasonik titreşimler yaydığını bilseler de, bu titreşimlerin havaya yayılıp yayılmayacağı belli değildi, bu da onları bir miktar uzakta organizmalar için fark edilebilir hale getirdi.

Bitkilerin iletişim kurmak için haşhaş sesleri üretip üretmediği bilinmemektedir. Yakındaki bitkiler sıkıntılı bitkiler ’ sinyallerini alabilir ve bu bilgileri dehidrasyon gibi stres faktörleri için hazırlamak için kullanabilir. Böcekler gibi diğer organizmaların ideal evlerini veya beslenme alanlarını seçmek için bitki gürültüsünü kullanma şansı da vardır. Bu çalışmadan sorumlu biyologlar, bitkiler “ tehlike sinyalleri için hangi organizmaların ” dinleyebileceğini araştırmaya doğru ilerlemektedir.

#dehidrasyon #Israel #israil #stres #stresli bitkiler #Tel Aviv Üniversitesi

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