Nov 21, 2025
Friend requested a pinup of Phoenix
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Friend requested a pinup of Phoenix
Ref below the cut
Now his gaze looks up from his phone, staring intensely as if reading the very depths of his soul. "Ah. Well then." His feet are removed from his desk and he stands as he pushes a number into his phone. "Yep. Send them in." Hanging up the phone, he shakes his head "Scott. What did I tell you about lying?" He walks over to him nonchalantly "You know its not tolerated." He grabs a fistful of red hair and forces his head back to look at him "Youre wasting my time." //Dr.Monroe
“Who did you.. “ Scott frowned backing away but he didn’t get far yelping at the harsh hair tug,.Whimpering. . he stared silently at the older man fear turning to malice he raised his foot up and stomped as hard as he could on the doctors foot,. “fucking bastard I’ll sue you for that! You can’t touch me. I know that much about this place . I’ll sue . I have a great lawyer.” .when I’m done with you , you’ll be living in the streets forced to drink your own piss for mere survival . I came to get better not take pills that make rats sick. you’re wasting my time!.. . “Well maybe he shouldn’t give pills meant for humans to rats but he wanted to test them first make sure they were harmless. the side affects to the rats proved otherwise. “ . I don’t want pills. I want revenge. “
"Mhm. And how would you describe the effects? How does it make you feel after you take them?" An eyebrow raises, but he still doesn't look away from the screen. Hes use to his patients lying to him, especially about the medication, and he didn't trust nor like Scott one bit. "If you're lying, it gets marked down and you have to stay at our facility even longer " //Dr. Monroe
His smiled faltered as he felt like a deer caught by the hunter mind racing to come up with what he hoped was a good answer, “ . I feel.. not exactly happy but. a lot less pissed off.. calmer.. and a bit drowsy... not a major change but they help.. “
God he hoped the doc didnt bother looking at him because he was sweating so much nerves highly on edge as he gripped his kneecaps mouth spread out in big toothy grin.
HETALIA HAS OFFICIALLY RUINED MY LIFE IN GOOD WAYS.
During Music History and Literature III, Dr. Monroe shows us the next power point slide about music in the Renaissance Ages...
Dr. Monroe: So, France, England, and Germany-
Me: *Chortles so hard while imagining what would France, England, and Germany do at this time being.*
Classmates: Stares and looks at me extremely confused.
*Professor walks over.*
Dr. Monroe: "Uh...Diane? Are you okay?"
Me: "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. You could continue teaching. I'm sorry..."
on out of body traveling, and resigning
Like my expressions usually, my vessel was wandering. I corner cut and halfassed my way to the quickest possible exit from my job, which, with a twist of cruel irony, provides me with more social mediums, self confidence, and adjusted functionality than my real life does. It was Fiveish on a Sunday. I had nowhere safe to travel and no inspiration to hack it in the unfamiliar. I’ve been attempting less numb lately, so even a beer felt ugly. I ate two dinners. Wandered home, wandered back into town, considered a third, and ended up nursing a water at a buddy’s tavern. It was still way too early. At the tavern, I met a man named after a city, or after something more important that perhaps the city was initially named after. He had a density to his personality. His words came out thicker, you could hear it in his voice undoubtedly, but you could feel it too. The tiredness of his content contradicted his massive delivery of humanity of which I had immediately latched myself to in an unfamiliar way of admiration. He spoke of his late wife, of the struggles of dating at such a late age (55, maybe?) and his unfamiliarity with the particular tavern where he was now dining at and where I was postponing wander.
His hands moved like fish being tossed around the docks while we spoke. His head, even his teeth were bigger than most people I knew, I wondered if he was from the city he was named after, which has a certain legend of growing people bigger.
Before long I got him to wander with me, conversationally. We began to speak about a certain Dr. Robert A. Monroe. With a certain unintelligible Midwestern pride, I take my fact checking and personal research without much seriousness. A sort or resentment built upon a 1/3-lifetime of reading New York voices and realizing what a shitty poll position my creativity has drawn in the great writers’ race. I choose to blame it on the public schools, rather than genetics, or passive parenting, but either way, I assert my school of intuition in the presentation of my facts and that’s exactly what I plan on doing over the course of the next paragraph.
Dr. Robert A. Monroe spent decades researching and acting out a scientific theory he called hemi synching, which was designed to synchronize both hemispheres of the brain and allow the consciousness to leave the body. He wrote three books on the matter and built a giant institute that carries out these methods today, over a decade after his death. Dr. Alex P. Gara has had countless conversations with his roommate, Dr. Trevor S. Jelonek, on matters concerning or surrounding the core of this practice. The amateur doctors have dabbled with Eastern Religion, hallucinogens, and bestselling books on physics to further understand their gut feeling, that we are not our bodies. Monroe, the real doctor, used sounds called binaural beats, to achieve a separation of consciousness and body free of religious affiliation or harmful drugs. The man with the hands like Mahi Mahi has been to Monroe’s institute twice, and told me about his out of body travels on that fated Sunday at the tavern.
Funny thing is, I believed in him. I believed in him like I used to believe in grown ups or morals to stories or myself. He told me about flying with his dead wife, seeing the world through unconscious eyes, about familiarizing himself with past lives and his inner conscious tour guides, whom he described as annoyed and agitated. By accepting my distance with the material world he brought me a little bit closer to it and I needed that. Those same public schools that taught me distance equals depression were getting to me lately, hence the wandering. So, with the combination of the research that Dr. Jelonek and I spent so much of our post high school years on and the practical cynicism that Andy has helped cultivate within me and the wonderfully domestic mistakes I’ve made with great women and the love and fear that my family has showered me with and the fated encounter with the man named after a city, I’m taking this circus on the road.