Welcome to Fuck University!

Hello, my loves! I’m working alongside awesome, well-informed, charming creatives, and I wanted to reach out and invite you to check out our their web series, Fuck University! Fuck University is an educational web series going live in early 2020. Feel free to click on the link to their IndieGoGo to learn more, and donate if you want! Our IndieGoGo campaign: https://igg.me/at/fuck-university-campaign
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I hope you will check us out and support our mission to make sex ed modern, accessible, and fun!
Thank you!

Visual Prompt #2

Recently, I created a very bare skeleton of a character for a new feature. In an effort to flesh out this idea, I collected pictures from the internet for writing prompts. I want to post them to make my writing process transparent. These might be rough, but they are writing exercises. I want to hold less judgment and share more. Please enjoy. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to these images.

#2

I looked up at those eyes. They know me. How? Whose eyes are in there that I know? Is it mom’s? Suspect they’re hers, since they always look condescending. She never approved of my lifestyle. 

The Speakeasy lets me be my true self. Every night, I strut in wearing an outfit that turns patron’s heads. Regulars critique my outfits. Too bad they are jealous of all my confidence. After my entrance, I sit up at the bar. Let the games really begin. I cannot even greet my bartender without a man sending a drink my way. It is empowering to know all the money I put aside for the bar is really a savings. Wonder what I will need that money for. Anyway, the first man who buys my drink always is a try hard. Some guy who too strong. Definitely need to compensate for something. I accept it. For a few minutes, I chat with the man. My body sends the message of gratitude but disinterest. He always leaves, blaming an early morning of work. Good riddance. Then, a suited gentleman walk in. I never seen him here before. I peacock at the bar, glimpsing over to him. He picks up my invitation to entertain his senses over a few drinks. Out of all the men I have met, this one is different. His suit armors him to take care of a strong woman like myself. He looks like hard work and discipline. Oh, how mother always wanted a man like him for me. I wonder if she got a good look at him on his way inside. 

This man has come from my past. His past mirrors my past, somehow. Although we were on opposite ends of the life spectrum. A man like him looks too good to be from old money. He lacks the arrogance that comes from family greed. He hints that he has moved all over our country. His struggle adds a perspective to life I was never able to have, considering I have always lived in my corner of a metropolis. As the suited gentleman keeps talking, I fall for him. I told myself over and over and over again that I will not fall head first for a man with decency. Mother always warned me about men like him. She thinks I refuse to listen to her, because I doubt her intelligence. That is not true mother. I know there are more men out not like daddy. I attract the type of man that will not treat me for less than my worth. Despite my love at first sight, I control my urge to ask him into my bed. My safe place. I do ask him to walk me to my car. He asks me if I had too much to drink. Of course not. I have a high tolerance. You know you endanger others when you drive drunk. Do you know others endanger me just by existing? Sigh, my man is right. I am in no shape to drive. So, I ask him to wait outside until the fresh air sobers me up. 

Standing outside, her eyes glare down at me. Are they glaring, or is she actually trying to send me a message? She does not look as heated as usual. My calm stomach leads me to believe this is all suppose to happen. Maybe, she’s looking down, asking me to thank her. To thank her for sending me my soulmate. This woman. She always had to do everything for me. She never let me make my own choices. Even in her afterlife, she has to pick a male suitor for me. Fuck. 

Do you think she knows best? 

Who?

Mother. I point to the eyes. 

Those eyes are not real. It’s just a neon light fixture. 

It’s like she is telling me something. 

What word is underneath the eyes?

Speakeasy?

That is her message. Speak easy. 

Oh, how like you. Speak easy. I know what you mean by easy. You always ridiculed me for my love. You cold hearted bitch. You were always jealous that I was more capable of love better than you. I have so much love to share, just like my daddy. But, you hate that. How selfish. What did you ever do to deserve all of the love? NOTHING. You complained, mocked, ridiculed every thing about myself. It is like, she saw parts of herself and him that she felt the need to change. Doesn’t work that way mom.

Visual Prompt #1

Recently, I created a very bare skeleton of a character for a new feature. In an effort to flesh out this idea, I collected pictures from the internet for writing prompts. I want to post them to make my writing process transparent. These might be rough, but they are writing exercises. I want to hold less judgment and share more. Please enjoy. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to these images.

#1

Goodnight. Close your eyes. Darkness.  I see the squiggles behind the eyes, emulating the light. Stillness. The stomps from your upstairs neighbors break your consideration. You need to be lucid to look for the answers reality has yet to show. Intend for this to happen. It will happen. I ask for a message of protection. You intend to lucid dream, and intend, and intend, and intend. 

Yet. 

You just fell asleep. 

In the dream, the Blessed Mother with a neon blue halo visits. You have no control. For once, losing control feels good. It is truly time to reset. 

The lucid dream is in the living. Sleep to recharge. Wake up in the morning to implement the intended reality.