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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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Yes💗
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Artwork by The Phantom Painter on Instagram
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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five year update!!!
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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Fox fell asleep on skylight
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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🤌
I love Walter Skinner so much, but he uses so many metaphors and word play, when he talks, that my autistic ass has no idea what he’s saying half the time
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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Logic is no longer logic🤣🤣
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on it boss
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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This is the beginning of Part 7 in an absolutely ridiculous fan fiction I've been working on. Going on Part 36 😉
Part 7
After taking the time to tend to Trevor's wound, the two of you climbed into his trusty red truck, ready to embark on a journey into the vast expanse of the desert. The interior of the truck tells a story of its own-a tale of countless miles traveled and countless memories forged. A cloud of dust dances in the air, illuminated by the moonlight that seeps through the windows. The beige upholstery, tarnished by time and use, bears the marks of numerous adventures and hardships. The red on the outside was almost completely replaced with rust and the dashboard, displaying cracks and chips, narrates the tale of a faithful companion that has weathered many storms.
Though the truck has undoubtedly seen better days, there is an undeniable charm to its worn-out appearance. It stirs within you a profound nostalgia, reminiscent of the old days when your father would take you on similar escapades, riding in his beloved truck during his better times. The aroma of aged leather and a hint of men's cologne mingles in the air, evoking memories of laughter and shared experiences that seem to be woven into the very fabric of the vehicle. Stray papers were scattered around which consisted of old recipes and small scribbles.
As you settle into the worn-out seat beside Trevor, you can feel the warmth radiating from the aged leather upholstery. You glance at Trevor, noticing the mischievous spark in his eye as he steals glances at you. The playful atmosphere in the truck intensifies, setting the tone for the adventure ahead.
The bright lights of the city soon began to fade as you made your way far away through the woods and into the hot and sandy desert. The desert stretches out before you like a vast canvas, its red and rocky terrain in mesmerizing patterns. Trevor's eyes were still firmly fixed on the road ahead, the deep rumble resonates through the truck's aged frame, adding to the symphony of memories held within its metal shell.
The wind whistles through the open windows, tousling your hair and carrying the scent of adventure. The crackling sound of gravel beneath the tires provides a rhythmic accompaniment to your thoughts, as if the very ground beneath you is urging you forward. With every passing mile, you find yourself drawn closer to Trevor. Suddenly you had tons of questions but no confidence to voice any of them, so you decide to start small.
"So what happen to your arm?" His eyes flicker with a hint of nervousness, betraying his attempt to maintain composure. The playful atmosphere in the truck seems to have dimmed slightly, replaced by a tinge of vulnerability.
Trevor's grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly, and his gaze remains fixed on the road ahead, avoiding direct eye contact with you. His voice, usually filled with confidence and ease, carries a hint of hesitance as he responds, "Just cut it on the job."
"Oh, What do you do?" You ask nonchalantly, you were just glad there wasn't an awkward silence although you wondered why he seemed so distrustful and guarded.
The playful spark in his eyes flickers, momentarily replaced by a guarded expression. He clears his throat, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance as he responds, "Oh, you know, whatever the fuck i want really. I like to keep things flexible."
There's a deliberate vagueness to his response, leaving you with more questions than answers. It becomes evident that Trevor is intentionally keeping his professional life shrouded in mystery, perhaps harboring secrets or a desire to maintain a certain level of distance. This should scare you away, make you think twice for even a moment, but the charm of his enigmatic nature only deepens the intrigue surrounding him.
As the truck continues to navigate the desert landscape, the atmosphere inside feels tinged with unspoken tension. The wind whistles through the open windows, mirrors the invisible walls Trevor has erected around himself. The rhythmic crackling of gravel beneath the tires seems to punctuate the silence that hangs between you. You sense that delving deeper into Trevor's past or prying into his present circumstances might breach the trust that is slowly building between you. Instead, you decide to embrace the mystery, allowing him the space he needs to open up in his own time.
"You know this is pretty sus territory." You state jokingly, this does get a reaction from him. A surprised reaction, but a reaction all the same. Trevor's surprise is evident as he glances at you, a mix of amusement and confusion crossing his face. The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile, caught off guard by your playful remark. It seems your attempt to lighten the mood has succeeded in momentarily breaking through the guarded facade.
"You think it's sus?" He asks, he ask intimidatingly almost as if he was feigning offense.
"I don't know, I'm not a detective," you shrug. "But it is pretty deserted out here," you add with a chuckle.
"I know, that's kind of the fucking point." He says brasher then before, it might take you longer then expected to get used to how harsh he was naturally. As if sensing your discomfort he takes a long breath and begins again. "It's where I used to go to escape, when I got myself in trouble." Trevor's voice is laced with melancholy as his gaze shifts to the horizon.
"What kind of trouble were you in?" You ask a little more intrigued then before, bad guys had always been a weakness for you.
"Do you always play 20 questions?" He ask slightly aggravatedly, foiled again.
"Not at all, actually, I was just curious." You say.
"Well," he starts, his voice trailing off as he tries to find the words. "I guess it's a long story."
"I'd love to hear it," you say, leaning across the center console to meet his gaze. You find that your hand rests against his, and for a moment you wonder if this is the moment when you cross over into something more.
Trevor hesitates for a moment, his fingers gently grasping yours and giving you a small squeeze. "Maybe another time." You seemed slightly disappointed as you shrink into your seat with a defeated sigh, this would take a lot of time but that's all you had. "Don't look so sad, jeez. We're here by the way." He says taking a sharp right turn onto another dusty side road that led to a large wooden barn.
"We're here? Where the fuck is here? " You ask confused. "I thought you said we were still miles away." You say as you exit the truck.
"We are," Trevor says, climbing out of his truck with a grin. As your gaze falls upon the sleek two-seater plane parked before you, you can't help but let out an incredulous remark, laced with a hint of disbelief.
"You're joking right?" you say, turning to face Trevor. His face bears a rugged charm, accentuated by the bow for of the moon.
"Nope, that's my baby." Trevor says proudly, walking towards the aircraft. You follow behind, your curiosity getting the best of you. The plane is an old model, with an outdated design. It's painted silver, with a white stripe that runs down its body, and the wings seem to be made of wood. The engine is tucked away into the tail, and it looks like something from a movie.
"And you want to take me up there, " you say pointing up to the clouds that pass by ahead, "in this thing. " You reiterate yourself now pointing at the plane.
"I didn't realize you were such a fucking scaredy cat. You gonna bitch out on me." He teases, despite how rude he was, what he said managed to get under your skin.
You got closer to him, both of your arms crossed as if you both were puffing up your chest, a cock fight with a missing cock. "Call me a bitch again and I swear-" You challenge, your face inches from his, your breathing heavy. Your eyes bore into his, but your confidence faltered when his smirk grew wider still.
He smirks at you, "You'll do what?" His voice is low and gravelly, his tone playful. You stare at him blankly, unsure of whether you should continue or if you'd only be digging yourself a deeper hole.
Your hands move slowly to your hips as you step back from him, looking at him defiantly. You go to say anything to combat him but he simply huffs a laugh and opens the passenger door. "Shut up and get in the fucking plane." He says wearing a confident smile.
"Fine." You say finally. "But don't think you've won. " You say as you climb into the passenger seat and buckle up. Trevor climbs in next to you and closes the door, he turns on the ignition, and a roar reverberates throughout the plane and the propeller begins to whirr, kicking up a dust cloud around the plane. You look at him in shock as he smiles at you and gives a wink. You feel your heart flutter in your chest, a mixture of fear and excitement running through your veins.
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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RESPECT THEIR PRONOUNS (OR ELSE!!!) 💛🤍💜🖤💥✨
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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Marge: Now Lisa, listen to me, this is important. I want you to smile today. 
Lisa: But I don't feel like smiling. 
Marge: Well it doesn't matter how you feel inside, you know?
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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wisepainterperson · 9 months
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💗 MY PEOPLE
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Steven Ogg: “Every person,I suppose,has their eccentricities but in an effort to be normal in the world’s eye they overcome them and therefore destroy their special calling.” WELL DON’T! #whowouldwannabesuchacontrolfreak #modestmouse #bukowski
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wisepainterperson · 10 months
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