#demanding to talk to whoever is in charge of the exhibition

[lohstandfound]

hmmm.... deities au might become a fic or something

[thebookreader12345]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: Y/N is the newest member of Squad 3, and when out on a dive rescue, things take a turn for the worse

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing and a near death experience

Word Count: 2,064 Words

“Everyone, can I have your attention please” Chief Boden announced to his firefighters, who all turned to look at him, meaning they saw me standing next to him. I had my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket, and I was rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. “I want you all to meet Y/N L/N. She’s going to be filling the open spot on Squad 3.”

“Uh, hey,” I say and wave shyly at the group of people sitting in front of me. For a second, the room was quiet, but it wasn’t long before a blonde haired woman stood up and rushed over to me, wrapping me in a big hug.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally got another girl! You’re going to love it here. I promise. I’m Sylvie Brett” the woman stated.

“Nice to meet you. I was the only girl in my old Firehouse, so when I walked up, I was really hoping there’d be a girl here. By the way, whoever owns the mustang parked out front, nice whip” I comment.

“The Mustangs mine” a man with salt and pepper hair spoke and raised his hand. My eyes immediately gravitated over to him, and when I saw who had spoken, my cheeks flushed. The stereotype for a firefighter was a young, handsome, muscular man, and the guy in front of me fit the description perfectly.

“Oh, Y/N, this is Kelly Severide, your lieutenant,” Sylvie told me.

“Nice to meet you, Cap’n” I speak and give him a small smile.

“Where you from, L/N?” Kelly asked me after he heard me use foreign slang for the second time this morning, the first being when I said “whip.”

“The Big Apple. I just moved here a few weeks ago,” I answer.

“NYC, huh? Why’d you move?” a man, who’s jacket read Cruz, questioned.

“Family reasons” I stammer out. “But I’d prefer that we don’t talk about. Lets just say I wanted a change of scenery. Chicago is very different from New York, but good different, you know? I like it here.”

Just then, an alarm blared from everywhere in the building, and everyone shot up out of their seats, heading towards the apparatus floor. Now I knew one similarity between New York City and Chicago; there’s never a boring day at work. 

“Follow me,” Kelly ordered and took my arm, leading me out of the break room. “I’ve got a few rules. One, obey my orders. I don’t like firefighters who exhibit insubordinate behavior, and I absolutely hate doing paperwork for that. Two, if you’ve got a suggestion for how to approach a situation, speak up. I don’t come up with all of the good ideas. And three, never stand around doing nothing. There’s always people who need help, so help them.”

“All right. I think I’ve got it,” I say as we got to the apparatus floor where my gear was already laid out for me.

“Oh, and L/N, welcome to Firehouse 51,” Kelly said.

..................................................

It had been a few weeks since I started on Squad 3, and I was loving every minute of it. Capp and Tony, the other two guys on Squad besides Kelly and I, were very funny and easy to get along with, so I had no problem fitting in. The rest of Firehouse 51 was also inviting, and I really felt at home here. However, there was definitely one thing I enjoyed the most, and that was hanging out with Kelly. Every shift, when things were slow, Kelly and I would sit on the roof together. He would smoke cigars while I chewed on my polar ice gum, and we would have conversations, whether it be about something stupid Otis had done that day, or something in our personal lives outside of work.

“Oh. Did I tell you about the prank I played on Mouch the other day?” I ask Kelly and blow a bubble, popping it with my lips.

“I don’t think so,” Kelly said and took another hit of his cigar. “What’d you do?”

“I stole his secret stash of chocolate” I admit. “And then I blamed it all on Otis.”

Kelly laughed and glanced over at me, meeting my gaze. I could feel myself getting red, so I turned away and looked at the sky. I had a huge confession to make, and it was that I had gained a crush on my lieutenant.

“Um, Kelly, there’s something I have to tell you” I confess.

Kelly put his cigar down on his tray and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “What is it?” he asked.

Just before I could tell him that I had feelings for him, the alarm went off inside of the firehouse calling for Squad 3, dive rescue. I got out of my chair and made my way over to the ladder, sliding down it expertly like I had done many times before. Getting my gear on took seconds, and as soon as all of us were in the truck, Tony started the engine and drove out of the garage. It didn’t take long before we got to the river, where a young, red haired woman, who was drenched in water, was waiting for us.

“You have to help them. Please,” she begged.

“Ma’am, calm down. Who do we need to help?” I ask.

“Them,” the woman shouted and pointed out into the middle of the river where a boat was submerged halfway underwater. I could make out a few people on the deck, and at the moment, it looked like they were all safe.

“Can none of them swim?” Kelly questioned as we started putting on our gear, which was basically a second skin to us.

“No. I’m the only one who can” the woman responded. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We just wanted to get one last ride in before summer ended.”

“Hey. Everything is going to be okay........” At the moment, I realized I didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Marissa. My name’s Marissa” the woman said.

“That’s a beautiful name. I’m Y/N. I promise that we’re going to get everyone to safety” I say and grab my oxygen tank from the truck, slinging it on my back.

The rescue itself did not take long. The four of us each took about two trips to the boat, easily getting the people back to land. However, as soon as I began taking off my wet suit, the panic started.

“Where’s Davie? Where’s my son?” a man called out and looked around. I glimpsed over to the boat, and that’s when my eyes caught sight of a boy struggling to stay above water.

“Kelly,” I alert him and point to the water. 

Kelly followed my finger, and when he saw where I was pointing, he cursed. “Our tanks are out of oxygen. We never refilled them after the last dive.”

“That’s cool. I’ll just go in without one” I say and step out of my suit.

“Hell no. Y/N, that water is freezing cold. You’re not going out there. I’ll call in for backup,” Kelly announced.

“What? No. By the time you do that, that kid’ll be dead. On my first day on squad, you told me to never stand around because there are always people that need help. That kid needs help, so I’m going to help with” I share before jumping into the water.

As soon as my skin touched the water, I began to shiver at how cold it was, but I pushed past that and continued swimming. Kelly was calling my name from the shore, but I ignored him and kept going. When I was a few feet from the boy, he sank beneath the waves.

“Shit” I mumble and take a deep breath. Then, I dove deeper into the water, my eyes scanning everywhere for the boy. That’s when I saw Davie struggling to swim to the surface not far from me. He was holding his breath, which was a good sign, and he was still conscious. I swam over to him and got behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I kicked my feet in an attempt to propel us up and out of the water, but the current was too strong. I was starting to loose my breath, and I could tell Davie was too, so I did what any firefighter would do; save the victim first. I pushed Davie as hard as I could to the surface, hoping that someone else could get to him, and that’s when I felt the sudden urge to breathe. I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, and when I breathed, all I took in was water. Suddenly, I got lightheaded, my eyes drifted shut, and I lost consciousness deep in the Chicago River.

Kelly’s POV

I waited a few minutes, and Y/N still hadn’t resurfaced with Davie. Where the hell was she? At that moment, Davie appeared back on the surface, but Y/N was nowhere to be found.

“Capp, go out and get the kid. Now!” I demand. “I’m going to look for Y/N.” Capp nodded and jumped into the water with me following close behind. I swam out to where Davie was, and as Capp took the boy, I dove under the water. I looked around, hoping to find Y/N, and thankfully, I did, but she was unconscious. I made my way over to her, grabbed her body, and kicked towards the surface. When I got above the water, I tugged Y/N’s body with me to shore. Tony and Capp helped me lift her out of the water, and when I got back onto land, I pressed my ear against her chest. She wasn’t breathing.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Tony informed me and rushed towards the truck.

I took a deep breath, pinched Y/N’s nose, tilted her head back, and then I placed my mouth to hers. I breathed into her mouth a few times, and when I pulled away, I watched to see if she began breathing again, but she wasn’t. “Come on” I cry out and breathe into her mouth some more.

“Ambulance is 5 minutes out,” Tony said to me.

“She doesn’t have 5 minutes. Come on Y/N. Breathe,” I mumble and press my mouth to hers again. No matter how many times I tried, Y/N did not seem to come back. Just as I was about to give up, Y/N turned her head to the side and coughed up water. “Y/N! Thank god you’re okay.”

Y/N’s POV

The feeling of water leaving my lungs did not feel good. As I continued retching, Kelly helped me turn my body so that I wasn’t choking on my own spit and whatever else was coming up my throat. I coughed one more time and sucked in a huge breath before laying back down on the pavement.

“Y/N,” Kelly spoke and cupped my face with his hands.

“Hey, Cap’n,” I mutter and give him a tired smile.

“What did I say about following orders? You know I hate filing insubordination charges,” Kelly said.

“Maybe you can forget about that just this one time,” I whisper as I heard ambulance sirens getting closer.

“Only if you promise to never do that again. I mean it,” Kelly told me.

“Okay. Deal. Look, there’s something I never got to tell you,” I manage to breath out.

Kelly only smiled and pressed his lips to mine, giving me a quick kiss. “I like you too,” he assured me as an ambulance parked a few feet away from us. “Just focus on getting better now, okay? I promise we can talk about all of this as soon as you’re back in business.”

“Sounds good to me. Hey, could you ride with me in the ambo?” I ask. “I may or may not be afraid of hospitals.”

Kelly laughed and kissed my forehead. “Of course. Now, lets get you treated. I want my girl back on Squad as soon as possible.”

“Your girl? I thought we were talking about that later,” I say with a grin.

“Just shut up and accept it,” Kelly said.

“All right. I can’t believe Kelly Severide, the Lieutenant of Squad 3 and the hottest firefighter in Chicago likes me. I can get used to this,” I murmur.

___________________________

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[youarejesting]

BTS Among Us.5

Summary: You have a crew of 11, well now 10. The captain has been killed. Whatever it is doesn’t appear to be human but from the evidence you gathered, whatever it is, is pretending to be one of you. Who is it and why? Rating: T (teen and up) Genre: Murder mystery, supernatural, comedy, angst, action, adventure and more. !!!!!GORE!!!!! Schedule: Updates every FRIDAY EST./SATURDAY AEST. please get your VOTES completed before Saturday or your bias may be kicked off the ship.

After some serious discussion — arguing — you all took the ballet. After some serious contemplation and lots of nervous butterflies you voted for purple. The moment you handed over the piece of paper you felt sick. The idea that you actually wrote a name down this time, that you were actively participating in the possible execution of someone. The worst part was that you had no idea if that person was innocent or guilty. 

Each vote was counted by the next in line, the eldest of the group, Kim Seokjin and he sighed almost in a moment of relief. But that was short lived when he looked up at the group and announced the unfortunate crew member with the most votes.

“I am so sorry, but the majority of votes were for brown” Seokjin said as gently as he could as it was such a sensitive topic.

“Wait no, you can’t be serious, I have done nothing wrong,” She started to sob and Jin squared his shoulders and took her arm.

“I am so sorry, this is the last thing I wanted to do but I am sorry, it was the votes” He led your best friend to the airlock and you ran after her crying, orange behind you. She was pushed inside and the doors were shut and locked.

She was hysterically banging on the glass, as were begging Jin to stop, you threw punches into his back demanding that he stop but the countdown had begun. “HOW COULD YOU, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD, MURDERER!”

“AND WHAT IF IT IS HER, WHAT IF SHE IS THE ONE KILLING EVERYONE,” He shouted back his voice coming out from your headset, “YOU ALL VOTED, YOU ALL CHOSE THIS,” 

“I am in charge now which means, I have to follow the rules we made, we can’t back out, look we all think she is the imposter, you will see everything will be fixed now” Seokjin said trying to calm you down and it didn’t soothe anything, you walked to the glass to see your friend crying on the ground.

You were sobbing unable to get your words out before the doors opened and she was ejected out into space.

Time passed slowly and the distinct yellow suit of Jimin filled your blurred vision as he lifted your form and carried you through the halls to the med bay. He laid you down on one of the medical cots and gave you a small sedative to ease your panic attack. He closed the curtains, and stressed that you should get some rest. 

He was moving around softly and you were trying to keep your soft whimpers to yourself as you went in and out of sleep. With little knowledge of how many hours had flown by, you woke slipping off your helmet in the privacy of the curtained room. Taking a drink of water you heard muffled talking from somewhere in the room.

“I have the medscan records and brown scanned and was cleared, so why was she voted out?” Jimin’s voice was muffled through his suit and you could barely make out what he was saying, so it was obviously impossible to hear or identify who he was talking to. “I have the results here, I know exactly who hasn’t scanned, look I know I just someone is manipulating the others I just have to find out who. You should come by tomorrow to prove your innocence.”

There was a creak every hair on your body stood on end, freezing in place you heard some shuffling. Jimin was still talking oblivious, when it happened a strange sound of bones and flesh tearing from themselves and some liquid splattered across the curtains. 

The sound you made in response was oddly calm and you assumed it was from the sedative, because you knew you should be panicking but you were incapable. Whatever or whoever was in the room had heard you and was slowly making their way over to the curtain.

Grabbing your things you slipped under the bed, sliding your helmet back on, you couldn’t see very well due to the hazy state you were in, but the suit looked light compared to the dark shadows around your hiding place. The figure seemed to decide to escape quickly instead of pursuing you, heading back through the vents and the final creak sent a shiver down your spine and you ended up falling asleep under the bed.

When you woke, you saw the lifeless form of Jimin ripped in half his eyes blank and staring at you from under the curtain. You made a call reporting the body but refused to move from under the bed until everyone arrived. The others stormed in and Taehyung and Yoongi seemed quite upset. 

“Who reported the body?” Orange said, looking around and Seokjin opened up his little tablet trying to find who reported the body, when Yoongi beat him to it, tablet in hand.

“It was Y/n,” he stated “Where is she?”

The curtain was opened and the dark green suit clad legs appeared and the figure knelt down, peeking under the bed, “Y/n?” Slipping out from under the bed and went to Jimin’s desk and started looking at the documents on Jimin’s computer. “What are you doing?”

“Jimin before he died last night he said he had a list of those who didn’t scan, I am going to find that list and cross match it with the blueprints when we find it we need to narrow down the search of who killed these people”

Printing off the results you had a list, “The only people who didn’t scan were Black, Purple, Pink, Green, and Orange. Why didn’t you idiot’s, just get scanned? We would know who the imposter was if you all just voluntarily scanned. And the innocent people wouldn’t have died”

“Fine,” Yoongi said “We are on the home stretch, they will never let me on another exhibition but at least I will be proven innocent”

Yoongi stood on the little med bay scanner and you tried to get the machine working but it needed Jimin’s password and you had no idea what it was. “I don’t know how to work this machine Yoongi, only Jimin knows how to work it and he is dead?”

You slumped in the seat and eventually everyone dispersed, you headed down the hall where you bumped into Purple who was carrying a box of things from storage. The impact knocked a rolled poster from Jungkook’s hands and you picked it up.

Unravelling the blue paper to reveal a blood stained blue print. Something about the vent connections caught your eye, you knew for a fact jungkook was in the hall passing security when Hoseok died and the vent connections were Medbay - Security - electrical a triangle connection. 

You had a hunch but you needed to be able to prove it and convince the others, before it’s too late.

[VOTE HERE]

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[venusxxlangdon]

Hotline Bling

summary: Nothing foretold troubles when suddenly Michael’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call. Without taking his eyes off the laptop, he reached for his phone, thinking it was Gallant.

“Hello?” he asked

“Have you been a good boy?”

AU, where Michael is an art student at Hawthorne University with a penchant for rollerball lip gloss & fleece blankets and the reader, is phone sex operator who accidentally calls the wrong number

pairing: sub!Hawthorne Michael x fem!reader

warnings: dirty talk, smut, sub!Michael, mommy kink, humping

words: 3.3k

A/N: there will be part 2!

Michael Langdon had been having a penchant for nice things for as long as he remembered himself. He was soft and delicate by nature, so it was no wonder that he enjoyed fleece blankets and scented candles, wide linen shirts to wear around the house instead of old T-shirts paired with sweatpants everyone liked, fluffy socks that made him feel comfy, warm bubble baths, and cinnamon French toasts topped with cherry jam or powdered sugar.

However, not everyone had the same opinion on his preferences. Constance Langdon, his grandmother (may she rest in peace), who raised him like he was her son, had been trying to do everything in her might to make Michael fit into her idea of what boys should have worn, studied in university, and done in their free time. Although, after he brought home his first high school girlfriend she seemed to stop being so hard on him as if the fact that Michael was into girls was some sort of a relief for her. The truth, as usual, was somewhere in the middle: Michael had no idea who he was into and preferred to go with a flow and take interest in whoever he liked no matter their gender, religion, and social background. He was not only a good-looking guy — the blond mop of short curls surrounded his head like a halo; crystal blue eyes, made him look like an angel; cherry kissed lips sometimes had a touch of a peachy lip gloss rollerball he carried in his designer backpack, resembled the petals of a beautiful rose — but he was also beautiful inside, despite a blinkered mindset of his grandmother.

When he moved to a small apartment that was only 20 minutes away from Hawthorne University where he was majoring in art, he started decorating the place to his liking: curtains made of sheer organza flowed down the windows like sea foam; the transparent fabric allowed the sunlight to spill into the room, bounce off the walls and flood every corner of it with radiant warmth.

The endless list of things he liked to do in his free time mostly consisted of going to the exhibitions and gallery openings, attending independent movie premieres with his artsy friends, grabbing a strong espresso on the way to class every morning, and dancing to his favorite songs while cooking. He lived alone and was comfortable with it because truly deep in his heart he was a loner. Of course, he had friends, take, for example, Gallant. A very extravagant guy he had met at one of the events and immediately clicked with. Michael did not know whether he believed in soulmates, but Gallant was definitely one of those people in his life who understood him and shared the same interests. However, Michael always enjoyed his time alone in the perfect world he built around himself and spent so much effort maintaining and protecting from people who thought that it was their duty to call it too “feminine”.

“Angel! I’m home!” he stepped into the apartment and tried to shut the door with his shoulder because both of his hands were busy holding a new print he’d got from Gallant and a paper bag from Whole Foods.

A white cat appeared around the corner to greet his owner who never managed to come home without a handful of stuff. He cautiously approached the print Michael put against the wall.

“How have you been, little guy?”

Michael found Angel a year ago on the way home when he was returning from a bar he went to with Gallant and his boyfriend. It was during the time when he was recovering from an extremely painful breakup with his last girlfriend. It was a complicated relationship from the very beginning, but he thought that his love would have been enough for both of them.

In the end, it left him drained out, heartbroken, and utterly devastated. So there he was young and depressed, cringing at the bitter aftertaste of alcohol, he drank with his friends, on his way to his small studio where nobody was waiting for him. At first, he didn’t understand where the tiny mewls were coming from, but as he approached one of the waste containers, he realized that among the litter there was a small white (well it was gray at that moment) kitten. Alone and abandoned just like him.

“I missed you, love” he smiled at the cat, picked up his bags and made his way to the kitchen.

It was a regular evening for him with a homemade dinner and some tv show in the background. He was sitting on the couch with the blanket around his shoulders and a Mac on his lap, working on a digital project for the upcoming assignment. Angel was snuggling by his side, snoring peacefully, and the light scent of his favorite 26 Santal Le Labo candle was filling the room. Nothing foretold troubles when suddenly his phone screen lit up with an incoming call. Without taking his eyes off the laptop, Michael reached for his phone, thinking it was Gallant.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Have you been a good boy?” the question asked in smooth silky voice on the other end made Michael jump on his seat. He immediately looked at the screen but did not recognize the number, so he hurried to bring the phone back to his ear and demand the explanation.

“Ex-excuse me?” he stuttered.

“I’m asking you if you’ve been a good boy for mommy today,” he felt the blush bloom across his cheeks not only from the lascivious tone of your voice but the words you were saying. What on God’s green earth was that?

It took him a few seconds to first, close his mouth because his jaw had dropped indeed, and second, formulate a coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, I think you called the wrong number” he bit his lip and looked at the display once again as if the range of figures would have turned into something different.

“Is this strawberryboy69?”

Michael giggled at the nickname and put his laptop aside, straightening his legs out.

“No, my name is Michael, and who are you?”

You started scrolling through the data to check if you had called the right number feeling the embarrassment wash over you. Nervously you scanned the table of clients’ names, and your brows frowned when you found out that you had done everything correctly. Strawberryboy69 was supposed to be the same caller that was being on the line, and his kinks should have been “age play, mommy kink, slight humiliation, choking, and spanking”. There could not have been any mistake unless the client had told the wrong number himself.

“I’m sorry, sir. There’s gotta be a mistake,” you murmured still confused. “Please, accept my apologies, I-...”

And before you even finished the sentence Michael asked:

“Wait, was it supposed to be a sex call? Like for real?”

He didn’t know why he even asked that question, and why his cheeks were still beet red. Of course, the girl on the line was a phone sex operator. Who else would’ve started a conversation asking if he had been a good boy? He unconsciously ran his fingers through his hair and caught himself thinking that the idea of having actual phone sex really excited him. He’d never done anything like that, and it felt forbidden. Even mysterious, since he didn’t even know your name. He looked at Angel nervously as if the cat was judging him.

“Yes, and it seems like the client gave me the wrong number. I won’t be taking your time unless you’d like to try...” you lowered your voice to emphasize the last part of the sentence. Having worked for over a year in this company you had learned that if a caller started asking questions it mean that you got his attention. Even though this guy wasn’t the original strawberryboy69, you could try your luck and make him your new client.

Michael’s breath hitched.

“Um, I am really not sure” he mumbled, hugging the pillow and pressing it hard against his chest trying to calm down. “I’ve never tried anything like this....how much do you charge per minute?” he felt the thrill of the rush tightening in his stomach.

You smiled to yourself. You got him.

“It’s a dollar per minute, and after the 10th minute, the rate is 0.50$. Don’t worry about being inexperienced,” the tone of your voice switched from cool and professional to lustful and teasing in a matter of seconds, and that was what got Michael aroused. “I got you.”

Michael let out a frustrated sigh and flipped on his stomach, resting his chin on the pillow.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “okay, I think I want to try this, but what do I start with?”

You leaned back on your chair and put your phone on the speaker ready for the show.

“I want you to tell me about yourself first. What do you like in bed? What are your secret fantasies?” you turned on the timer.

There was some mumbling on the other end, and you heard something like “God, I can’t believe I’m doing it”.

After a long pause Michael spoke:

“It’s nothing extreme”, he said, “I think I am boring, like...okay, so...I don’t really.. Oh God.. Sorry, I can’t do this,” he felt so embarrassed; his cheeks were burning bright red.

It was a normal reaction for the person who had never practiced phone sex, and you understood him. So you took the initiative:

“Michael,” you remembered his name, “do you like being in control and dominating your partner?” you purred.

Michael shook his head as if you could see him.

“No, actually, it’s the opposite. I like when my partner takes care of me. I like it nice and soft,” he felt his cock harden in his pants and instinctively snaked his hand down his crotch to slightly squeeze it.

You briefly made a note “soft, probably sub” on a sticker, brought a pencil to your mouth, and pensively started sucking on the tip. It seemed like you got a new strawberry boy.

“Hmmm, sounds good” he was making a progress indeed, so you made sure to praise him for that, “I would love to take care of you, darling. Tell me what you look like, baby?”

Michael felt hot. Suddenly the temperature in the room increased drastically, and he slowly started unbuttoning his blue linen shirt. He traced the tips of his fingers starting from the prominent collarbones and moving inwards. Gently applying pressure, he whimpered at the sensation. Using a circular motion, he splayed his hand out gently across his chest and brought his fingers together at the pink nipple.

“I’m tall, and that’s why I’m always slouching. My grandma used to be so mad at me for not being able to sit straight, and-...” he paused suddenly realizing what he was saying. “God, I’m sorry, that was absolutely unsexy. I don’t know why I even said that...”

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled in response.

“It’s okay, darling” you hurried to reassure him, “feel free to share whatever you like. I’m listening.”

Michael buried his face in the pillow.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, “I’m blond, curly-haired, and I have blue eyes, what else...”

You didn’t doubt that he was actually describing himself even though he could have pretended to be whoever he wanted. Most of your clients usually told you that they looked like models or actors, everyone was “tall, skinny, with big 11-inch dick (yes, sure), and pornographic boobs.” You couldn’t blame them for that because it was their fantasy and they had every right to dream about it.

“Baby, you are so pretty,” you told him, “let me lace my fingers through your curls and slightly tug on them so I could kiss that pretty neck of yours.”

Michael involuntary bucked his hips forward, grinding his clothed cock against the sofa.

“I-I-I love neck kisses,” he whispered feeling hot flush wash over him. “And love bites.”

You hummed approvingly. Slowly, step by step, you were going to bring him out from his comfort zone.

“That’s wonderful, kitten” you said twisting a strand of your hair around your finger, “imagine my full lips on your neck. Kissing and sucking on the tender skin. I’d slowly run the tip of my tongue across your throat and bite on your collarbones, mark you as mine. Are you mine, darling?”

You heard a quiet whimper on the other side. Michael’s hand passed the hem of his pants and sneaked inside to wrap around his half-hard cock. His mouth dropped open at the feeling of the velvet skin around the glistening head under his touch.

“Yes, I’d like to be yours.”

“That’s my good boy,” you cooed, “now I want to you touch yourself, baby,” it was like you were reading his mind, and Michael squeezed at the base of his shaft imagining that you were actually watching him.

“Already”, he said brokenly, moving his hand up and down his length smearing the precum.

“You are doing so well, love.” Having worked as a phone sex operator for quite a while, you stopped getting off with your clients, but this time it was different. Maybe it was Michael’s inexperience that got you, or his low, silky voice that sounded hot even when he was apologizing for the unnecessary things, or his appearance that he described. You imagined how nice it would be to have a blond, curly-haired boy on your lap, all flushed with embarrassment and arousal. You started circling your clit with the tips of your fingers through the denim fabric.

“Imagine sitting on my lap, baby,” you couldn’t hold yourself back and miss out on the opportunity to act out that fantasy of yours. “All desperate for me. Rutting your hips back and forth, as my hands cup your ass and squeeze it. Hard.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered open; he lifted his head from the pillow and threw it back at the thought of straddling your thighs, moaning loudly.

“Ugh, please” he whined, jerking himself off. The rough material of the sofa didn’t provide the friction he wanted, and he howled in frustration. “It’s not enough, it’s not enough, please..” he muttered.

You closed your eyes.

“Baby, I want you to take a blanket and put it between your thighs for me. Tell me when you are ready.”

Michael’s trembling hands reached out for his favorite fleece blanket, crumpled it hurriedly and placed it between his thighs. He hooked the waistband of his pants and yanked them down his long legs along with his boxers. A broken moan slipped of his tongue when the tip of his cock brushed against the fuzzy fabric.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you wondered in anticipation. The sweet little mewls escaping the boy’s mouth were driving you crazy. Your pussy was throbbing at the thought of ruining him, messing up his curls, and making those blue eyes water with the unbearable neediness.

“Y-yes”, Michael answered waiting for the next order.

“Now I want you to slowly start humping it”, you said, voice dripping with seduction, “while thinking of my hands sliding down your body, caressing every inch of the exposed skin. C’mon, move your hips in circles.”

His skin felt like it was on fire. His abdomen tensed as he started drawing figure eight with his hips, and he had to bite at the corner of the pillow to muffle his moans.

“Let me hear you,” you whispered while rubbing your clit, “God, I wish I could see you. Tell me how does humping feel, hmm?”

Michael moaned in response. His long fingers formed a fist around the tip of his cock and started sliding up and down the length, matching the thrusts of his hips.

“Feels so good”, he murmured. He licked his dry lips and sighed heavily before asking, “could you, please...argh...” Michael hissed when he accidentally slid his thumb along the slit, “Please...”

“What do you want, Michael?” you urged him to speak up.

“When you asked if I’d been a good boy”, he couldn’t believe he was actually about to ask for that, “you called yourself mommy, and I really liked it,” he rolled his head to the side feeling so damn embarrassed and pathetic.

“Oh, baby,” the boy was insufferable. You spread your pussy and inserted two fingers simultaneously, pumping them in and out, “imagine that it’s mommy’s cunt is clenching around your cock.”

Michael was on all fourth, jerking himself off violently. When a sinful “mommy” rolled off your lips, he bit on his knuckles trying to suppress a desperate squeak.

“I told you not to hold your moans in,” his heart skipped a beat when he heard the stern tone of your voice. “If you want to be quite so desperately, open your mouth and start sucking on your fingers.”

And he obeyed like a good boy. Michael brought his free hand to his lips and stuck his tongue out to lick at the tips of his fingers.

“That’s a good boy”, you moaned at the sloppy sound of his lips sucking on his digits. “Keep going.”

You hoped that he was getting close because your own orgasm started building up inside you with every push of your fingers.

“Mommy, I’m close,” you smiled at Michael’s whimpers. You were definitely in sync.

“I know, baby”, you squeezed your thighs flexing your pelvic floor muscles. “Mommy’s close, too.”

“Please, may I come?” he pleaded, and who were you to refuse him?

“Cum for me, kitten,” you moaned feeling your orgasm unfold, and flooding every cell of your body. “My pretty boy, you’ve been so, so good.”

With a broken cry, Michael let go, and came in his fist, staining his blanket with white stripes despite his attempts not to make it messy. You wished you could have seen his face. Fuck, for the first time you actually wondered what your client looked like.

Michael rolled over on his back. Coming down from his high, he felt ethereal. Starting at the ceiling, he couldn’t believe that a stranger had made him come so hard. He looked at his sticky hand and closed his eyes. Holly shit.

“Thank you,” he whispered and heard your soft chuckle.

“The pleasure was all mine,” you said with a smile and quietly whimpered at the feeling of dump panties between your legs.

You should have already thanked Michael for the call, charged for his time, and hung up, but instead, you were still on the phone with him.

“Hey, listen,” Michael cleared his throat, “is there any way I can contact you later?”

A wide grin spread across your lips.

“Yes, you can use this number. I work from 8 to 11pm.”

You were not going to make it easy for him.

Taglist: @langdons-rep @babypinkstyles94 @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @theghostoflangdon @divinelangdon @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @ticklish-leafy-plant @bbyduncan

People who might like it: @ccodyfern @1-800-bitchcraft @ritualmichael @wroteclassicaly

[citric-sugar-blog]

There's glitz and glamour everywhere throughout the gala tonight. Nothing but the best could be expected here of course, not with David Lee in charge and all his expertise. But it isn't his skill and organization that has caught Salia's attention, though it had been what occupied her previously. It couldn't keep her attention forever. Not with new guests coming in to join in the festivities that she could poke and prod at like a petting zoo, or a science exhibition. Curiousity is a demanding and forceful mistress. 

At first it was just Salia keeping a watch on this new guest from the corner of her eye. She mingled in between glances that tried to glean information and wait for some indication of someone watching over her. But the longer she went without some form of supervision the stronger her curiousity grew. She might not have of been able to take a bite out of someone else's play thing with them watching. But someone without supervision could easily be goaded or talked to without risk of someone finding Salia... too threatening to their wellbeing. This was a party after all, it's called mingling. With this justification in mind, in case a sharp toothed smile wouldn't scare whoever watched over this new guest away, Salia approached the outskirts and shadowy area of the gala. Well, closest to shadowy it got, Lee had done well. She might as well investigate this Penumbra Blessing.

[poppyrosehall]

Reflective Blog (HA7514)

This post aims at exploring different the aspects of being a freelancer in the creative industries, highlighting the struggles and joys of self-employed work, as well as a few important features that are often overlooked by young creative practitioners.

Covering Your Costs as a Freelancer

Often viewed as hobby, pursuing a job as a freelancer in the creative industries and earning enough to cover all of your costs can be challenging. More often that not, new freelancers take on one, or sometimes more jobs on the side in order to sustain the lifestyle they aspire for.

It is likely that as someone with experience in your own field, there is some level of awareness of the costs of working in your industry. Besides this, breaking down exactly how much it is that you need to cover your day-to-day costs is vital, including rent, travel, food, and utility bills, etc. This will then help you evaluate how much you should be charging for your services. An error often made by individuals new to the freelancing industry, myself included, is to not take in to consideration taxes, or set aside a contingency sum in case of unexpected sudden costs that arise either in your professional or personal life.

Although the initial stages of earning cash from commissions and work you enjoy doing can be and exhilarating one, it is vital that you begin saving a small percentage of what you are earning. As I mentioned later in this blog, there are likely to be periods throughout your freelance career when demand for your service is low. These savings, potentially also serving as your contingency budget, can be used to cover your costs to get you through this.

From here, you can begin thinking about your revenue streams. As an artist and illustrator, a few examples of my personal revenue streams could be:

Sales of artwork

Sales of prints of artwork

Business to Business sales of illustration work

Up-front deposits for larger commissions

Part-time job elsewhere

Taking all of these aspects in to consideration, it is now that you can begin establishing your financial projections and your budget, figuring out how you will allocate your incoming cash flow. Referring back to your own data on costs, as well as taking in to account external market factors will make these estimations as realistic and as accurate as possible, reducing risk levels drastically.

Networking & The Origin Project

Over the past few years, alongside my studies at university, I have been working as a freelance artist and illustrator, working with a range of clients on various projects. During this time, despite having both a website and a social media page to promote my work, I have found that word of mouth has been what’s drawn the most clients in my direction. These clients have included those looking for personal commissions as well as larger scope projects such as product packaging for companies.

As a freelancer, keeping a good reputation is vital. Anyone working as a freelancer will tell you there are moments in your professional career when there will be so much demand for your service that you’re working overtime to meet deadlines, and other periods of time, when you have no projects for weeks on end.

There are many ways of establishing and maintaining a good reputation amongst your current and future client base, the most important being effective communication with clients, and any others you may be networking with from before the project begins, continuing on after it comes to an end. Explaining your process prior to working with your client, being open with them throughout the progression of the project, and keeping them up-to-date with your new endeavours, with the possibility of them wishing to come to you for further freelance work.

There are other ways of building your reputation as a freelancer, a few of these being:

Customer testimonials: Giving potential clients a look in to the the feedback and reviews you have received from your previous projects build a sense of trust in your brand and services.

Connecting with your niche market: This could be through getting in contact with influencers that resonate with your work, as well as reaching out to specialist websites and magazines to expand your reach within your target audience.

Exceeding client expectations: I know from personal experience, that going beyond client expectations, whether that be in terms of time, budget, or quality can mean a customer returning to you for services in the future, or recommending you to a new potential client that could be interested in your freelance work.

Keeping an up-to-date online portfolio: This ensures that wherever you are, and whoever you are networking with has instant access to your previous work.

All of these points above were in the back of my mind when working on the Origin Project alongside artist Ben Judd and the Stanley Picker Gallery. As a current freelancing artist, with aspirations of one day having an art gallery of my own, I took initiative and used this an as opportunity to network with industry experts in my own field, as well as with other creatives which could potentially lead to an interesting collaboration in the future. Having only worked on this project for a short period of time so far, it has already opened my eyes to new and exciting opportunities, as well as allowing me to reflect on my own networking skills, continuously improving them for my own benefit of expanding my horizons as a freelancer.

Effectively Pitching Yourself to a Client:

This brings me on to my next topic, that being the importance of effectively pitching yourself, as well as your ideas, to your clients. As someone who has been working as a freelance artist for several years now, pitching is still something I find myself struggling with due to my introversion, despite being aware of my talent in my field of work. However, I have also learned, through trial and error, how to impress and engage a potential client.

“STAY OUT OF YOUR PROBLEMS, STAY IN THEIR SOLUTIONS”

- Sam Harrison

The initial thing a client is likely to notice is whether or not you have done your research. This involves carrying out research on the client themselves, whether that be an individual or a company, and also the subject area the project is focusing on. Showing your client that you have knowledge in these areas, or have taken the time to understand them more expresses your interest, resulting in them taking your pitch more seriously which will in turn, allow you to begin building a relationship. It is at this point you can begin asking them open ended questions showing that you have a degree of curiosity you wish to explore, the answers of which you can then incorporate in to your pitch to build instant credibility.

In order to really catch and hold on to the clients attention, mentioning how your ideas will solve their problems is vital. This gives your project a purpose, and plants the seed in their mind that your service will be making their jobs easier. Flaunting the benefits of your service to them is a strong method of keeping your client interested as they will want to hear more. This is strengthened further if you explain how this same service will reduce their risks, and so these aspects are ones you should carefully consider before approaching any client.

I recently used this method while pitching an idea for having an art exhibition space in the lobby of a new complex of luxury apartments, restaurant and bar in Northern Cyprus. A few of the benefits I included in my pitch were as followed:

I was previously commissioned work by those running the complex and so they are already of my skillset and process, which saves them time as opposed to looking elsewhere.

My work and prices are fitting with the current customer demographic of the complex itself, so they are likely to appreciate this additional service.

Northern Cyprus doesn’t currently have many galleries or support and invest in its artists, so they would be viewed as positively contributing to the creative industries.

The lobby area, currently a large, open, and rather empty space, would be more visually engaging for their customers.

They would receive a percentage of each piece of artwork sold.

In a creative industry such as art and illustration, it is important that you convey to your client your process. Giving them insight in to the ways you work, will allow them to understand how the both of you are likely to work together throughout the progression of a project. Having a portfolio to show them at this point, which includes testimonials from precious clients, is likely to build their trust in you. Making use of the elements of the persuasion triangle in addition to this, consisting of ethos (ethics & credibility), pathos (passion & emotion), and logos (logic & reasoning) will further strengthen your relationship.

When it comes to how you present yourself, confidence is key, and if you do not have this confidence, fake it like I tend to. Non-verbal communication such as body language, eye contact, posture are massive tell tales of how much you believe in yourself and the idea you are pitching, and of how actively engaged you are in the conversation.

Handling Rejection From a Client:

Now that we’ve gone over how to effectively pitch your ideas to your clients, we’re going to talk about something that will inevitably happen throughout your career as a freelancer - being rejected. But it is important to remember that although rejection may be hard to deal with at first, it can be seen as a positive after changing your outlook on it. It is just as important that you prepare yourself for objection before each pitch. This may mean thinking about how to explain your ideas to your client using a different approach, one which may resonate with them more.

Having client that you are pitching to question your idea should not be taken personally. In fact, it probably means the client is paying close attention and actively listening to what you have to say. Instead of responding by tensing up, or becoming hostile and aggressive, it will be more beneficial for you as a freelancer in the long term to see this situation from a viewpoint of constructive criticism. Listen to what it is they have to say, take note on their feedback, reflect on it, and then use this evaluation of the situation to make improvements for the future. Taking initiative to ask the client why they criticised, or even rejected your idea will show a degree of dedication and commitment to grow as a freelancer; this willingness to improve could potentially sway the clients final decision about your pitch.

Considering the flip side of this scenario, throughout my experience as a freelancer, I have found that understanding the power of the word no is fundamental. It is much easier to reject a clients proposal when you have a higher degree of experience and can afford to be selective, however if a client is changing your initial ideas too much that you no longer agree with them, or they are asking work of you that goes against your brand then it is important to be open with them. Being honest, showing mutual respect, and offering an apology for not fitting their brief as well as you both may have hoped should maintain the existing relationship.

Over my time working as a freelancer, the factors mentioned above have been the highest value lessons I have learned when it came to being successful within the creative arts industry. Although it does take time, pushing through the initial stages and working hard provides the greatest reward, that being the ability to pursue a career in a field you truly enjoy and wish to progress in.

References:

Covering Your Costs as a Freelancer:

Bather, Z. (2021) Guest Talk during HA7514 Lecture, Kingston University.

Walls, E. (2021) Guest Talk during HA7514 Lecture, Kingston University.

Networking on The Origin Project:

Karkovack, E. (2018) How to Build a Great Reputation as a Freelancer. [online] Available at: https://speckyboy.com/build-great-reputation-freelancer/ (Accessed 24 March 2021)

Robinson, R. (2021) Four Ways To Build A Strong Online Reputation For Yourself As A Freelancer. [online] Forbes. Available at: https://www.forbes.com/sites/ryanrobinson/2019/03/06/build-online-reputation-freelancer/?sh=5ddba509210c  (Accessed 23 March 2021)

Rout, N. R. (2021) How to Build your Reputation as a Freelancer. [online] Bonsai. Available at: https://www.hellobonsai.com/blog/how-to-build-your-reputation-as-a-freelancer (Accessed 25 March 2021)

Effectively Pitching Yourself to a Client:

Harrison, S. (2010) IdeaSelling. Cincinnati: Adams Media Corporation.

Handling Rejection from a Client:

Harrison, S. (2010) IdeaSelling. Cincinnati: Adams Media Corporation.

[tendance-news]

JACKSON, Miss. — The president is coming to America’s poorest, blackest state to open a civil rights museum on Saturday, and people in the neighborhoods surrounding that gleaming tribute to the past would rather have Donald Trump visit their present.

“It’s hostile now, more hostile than in a long, long time,” said Pete McElroy, who employs three men at the auto repair shop that has been his family’s business for three generations. “People almost boast about it: ‘We got our man in the White House, and this is the way the ball’s going to roll now.’ ”

Three miles from the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum, over rutted roads, past littered lots, abandoned houses, and shuttered plants and warehouses, McElroy, 69, and other black residents of this struggling capital city say that after nearly a year of the Trump presidency, they have a definitive answer to the question candidate Trump posed when he spoke at a rally in Jackson in August last year.

“What do you have to lose?” Trump asked, making a quixotic and ultimately failed bid for black votes to a nearly all-white crowd.

“We’re losing a lot,” McElroy said here this week. “Losing Obamacare. Where are people going to go? Losing money. He’s making the rich richer and the poor poorer. Mostly, we’re losing respect. No way you can evade that. The way he speaks, the racists feel like they can say anything they want to us.”

Mississippi Gov. Phil Bryant (R) — an early and avid supporter of Trump’s — had invited the president to attend the opening months ago, but few here thought he would actually come. Except for crises such as hurricanes and oil spills, no president had set foot in small, poor, reliably Republican Mississippi for more than a decade.

The Black Empowerment exhibit at the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum. (Carolyn Van Houten/The Washington Post)

Trump’s down-to-the-wire decision to attend the opening seemed to change everything. Suddenly, the focus shifted from the elderly Mississippians who had stood up to police and merchants and employers to demand their rights half a century ago. The president with a knack for dominating conversation had succeeded again. In the local news, at beauty salons and auto repair shops, even in the halls of the new museum, the talk was now about Trump: Why was he coming? What would he say? Would celebration morph into protest and controversy?

[Trump should skip Civil Rights Museum opening, NAACP says]

On Thursday, Rep. John Lewis, the Georgia Democrat who is one of the last surviving leaders of the civil rights movement, canceled his commitment to give the keynote address at the opening. Lewis, who had refused to attend Trump’s inauguration because he considered him an illegitimate president, joined with Rep. Bennie Thompson (D-Miss.) in announcing that they will not attend because Trump is coming.

“President Trump’s attendance and his hurtful policies are an insult to the people portrayed in this civil rights museum,” they said in a statement.

White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders called their decision “unfortunate,” adding that Trump “hopes others will join him in recognizing that the movement was about removing barriers and unifying Americans of all backgrounds.”

On the cusp of the divisive Senate election in neighboring Alabama, Trump has triggered a frenzy of preparation and trepidation. On Thursday, Secret Service agents and state and local police combed every corner of the downtown site where Trump will join aging veterans of the civil rights movement and local politicians for the opening of two museums — one on the state’s history, the other a strikingly challenging look at the cruelties of race from the 1940s to the 1970s.

Along the streets of Jackson, even people who had no idea that a civil rights museum had just been built with $90 million in state money knew that Trump was coming.

[In Mississippi, a racist’s rifle tells a chilling story. But will Trump overshadow it?]

“It’s okay he’s coming, but they should take him to the ’hood,” said Quinton King, a 22-year-old mechanic at a tire shop on Martin Luther King Drive. “Let him see we living paycheck to paycheck, can’t get no credit card. It’s like they’re trying to keep everything for themselves up there, and here, we ain’t got nothing. Tell Trump to look around — houses abandoned, streets with holes, power lines hanging down in the street.”

A mural of Freedom Riders’ mug shots at the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum. (Carolyn Van Houten/The Washington Post)

King had not heard of any new museum in town. “Not really my style,” he said. And he saw no reason to learn about the people who had risked their lives to win him the right to vote and to live where he pleased. “We didn’t touch on any history real heavy in school,” King said. “It was all about trying to get you to pass the exit test.”

But although there are no plans for Trump to see any of Jackson beyond the museum, even a quick breeze through its galleries will confront him with a view of American history more complicated than the simple message sent by his “Make America Great Again” slogan.

“I Question America,” reads the banner over one of the museum’s galleries. A panel headlined “Savage Beating” depicts how police in the 1960s, “charged with enforcing the law, instead often brutalized black Mississippians.”

The museum presents a searing catalogue of bombings, small daily terrors, grinding humiliations, and rousing odes to the power of community organizing. Five towering black monoliths list the names of those who were lynched — more than in any other state — along with the purported rationale for their deaths: “lawlessness,” even “mistaken identity.”

[Trump replies ‘MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN’ to tweet about his attacks on African American]

It is purposely a challenging view of a time that no one would want to go back to, said Katie Blount, director of the state Department of Archives and History, which built the museum. “You can’t understand anything about Mississippi or the nation today without understanding this history,” she said.

Mississippians are divided about whether Trump should have been invited to the opening. Some of his supporters, thrilled by news of a presidential visit, have announced plans to attend the opening, which has some veterans of the civil rights movement worrying that celebration might change into confrontation.

Katie Blount, director of the Mississippi Department of Archives and History. (Carolyn Van Houten/The Washington Post)

Marshall Ramsey, the cartoonist for the local newspaper, the Clarion-Ledger, tweeted his hope that Trump won’t say, as he did after the white-supremacist rally in Charlottesville in August, that “you also had some very fine people on both sides.”

“It’s unfortunate that this president, who has created a climate of racial insensitivity and has embraced white supremacists, would choose to use this celebration of civil rights heroes as a photo op,” said Derrick Johnson, who recently moved from head of the Mississippi NAACP to the presidency of the national organization. “There’s just profound disappointment and sadness that after all these years, Mississippi is finally recognizing the heroes of the movement and this president chooses to be a distraction and an affront.”

Some blacks in Jackson see the museum, however, not as a reconciliation but as another in a long series of slights. “I won’t ever set foot in it,” said Burrell Brooks, a taxi driver who views the museum as an effort by whites to excuse the crimes of the past and the inequalities of the present.

“It’s getting worse, not better, not just for black Americans but for poor whites, too,” Brooks said. “You see the Confederate banner back up, the whole Confederate monuments thing. This country is going back to more segregation, and a museum makes people think that’s all history, that’s all fixed.”

[In feud with John Lewis, Donald Trump attacked ‘one of the most respected people in America’]

The first thing many African Americans in Jackson mention about the museum is the admission price, which is $8. “They charge us to see our own history,” Brooks said.

“Don’t holler about Trump coming,” said Dorothy Benford, 75, a retired teacher who as a young college student worked with civil rights activists in Jackson. “Let him come. Maybe he’ll learn something. If you’re going to holler, holler about the fee, making black people pay to see our own people kidnapped, hung, beaten, killed. Holler about what we have to lose — medical care, day care. Holler about the racist things people are saying about blacks that you did not hear before Trump.”

Former Mississippi governor Haley Barbour (R), one of the most fervent advocates for the civil rights museum, rejects the idea that Trump has unleashed a new era of racial confrontation. “I don’t hear that,” he said. “The vast majority of Mississippians — black, white, red or yellow — think our state has made as much progress or more than any other state in the last 50 years.”

Even if Trump hasn’t exactly been a symbol of racial reconciliation, he said, “it’s good for our state that the president, whoever he is, is tipping his hat to Mississippi, coming here knowing that there are things in this museum that we do not want to see repeated. The purpose of this museum was to be honest, open, to be candid about things that were indefensible.”

Jackson’s longest-serving city councilman, Kenneth Stokes, isn’t buying that. He drives through his center-city ward and pronounces that he will never enter the museum. “It’s a statement of white control of history,” he said. “In the blackest state in the United States of America, you don’t have one black elected official statewide. Look at these houses, gutted, falling down, it’s like it’s a hundred years ago. How can you have a museum that says this is in the past? It’s not a museum for poor black people, not if they’re charging that high fee. It’s for whites to make themselves feel better.”

[For Trump, fighting with athletes is a political sport]

Inside the museum, Blount, who is white, nods. She has heard these doubts many times, and she doesn’t expect blacks who are skeptical about state power to embrace the museum right away. “We are a state agency and so was the Sovereignty Commission,” which Mississippi created in 1956 to do battle with federal efforts to integrate schools and voting rolls. Only the reality of the museum can chip away at its critics’ objections, she said.

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City Councilman Kenneth Stokes outside City Hall in Jackson, Miss. (Carolyn Van Houten/The Washington Post)

A harsh voice shouts, “Get off the sidewalk. Don’t you know your place?” A visitor at the museum has crossed a line on the gallery floor, triggering a recorded reminder of the racial hierarchy that was codified in law and deed in Jim Crow Mississippi in the years before the civil rights movement.

Two miles away from the museum, as Priscilla Sterling recalled, a tense white man cornered her daughter on a street in Jackson. “Would you ever date a skinhead?” he asked, and it’s 2017 and she doesn’t know what she can say.

“White men following me, intimidating my daughter — this is the craziest time I’ve ever seen,” said Sterling, 49, a Jackson resident and a cousin of Emmett Till, the 14-year-old black boy who was lynched in Mississippi in 1955 after a white woman accused him of flirting with her at her family’s grocery store.

“I used to say I could never have lived in the 1950s or ’60s, that I couldn’t have taken the pressure,” Sterling said. “Now it’s 2017 and I’ve had people follow me and threaten me with vitriol. It’s vitriol like I never heard before Trump.”