what's a bjorg?

[frankybjorg]

yourhuckleberryx​:

“Oh, come on man.” Doc groaned, less than pleased they had a lead. It was why he had scoped out that door wedge for as long as he had. He didn’t want to find the perpetrator. Not really. And give Genevieve the satisfaction of knowing– far from what he wanted. 

“WHY’D you have to find something compelling, Franky baby. Now we’ve gotta search the town for floppy big feet. I hate feet.” Dreams from his childhood instilling this irrational fear of giant children clomping down the hallway towards him. He knew it truly didn’t drag him into real fear these days, he had gotten past it. But it did come up every now and again. 

“What kind of shoes are those? Can you make out a pattern– are they Nikes?” He pointe at the infamous checkmark. “Do they make Nikes that big?” Doc asked, and paused. “Oh yeah, they definitely do. Duh. Wow. Basketball.” Basketball. It would come to him down the line like a daunting slap in pure darkness. “What are you thinking we do, pal? I doubt whoever it is, is going to be out wearing painted shoes. Interrogations? Or just keep an eye out for big feet and suspicious looks.”

     “You think I wanted to find something that would cause us more trouble? We already have too much to do, I’m not about to do shit on purpose to make it so we never sleep,” Franky let out another sigh. He was already tired. Angry. Next show they were gonna do better background checks since clearly this crew couldn’t be trusted. At this point, Franky only trusted Doc, Genevieve and the cast -- since they weren’t part of the crime. Hopefully.

     “We could scope out the basketball court. Maybe the culprit didn’t notice the paint. Wishful thinking, I know, but it’s worth a shot. A place to start. Whatever. We can’t waste any more time if we want any kind of reve-----justice,” he caught himself there. Franky didn’t need Doc to know the dark thoughts his lack of sleep and stress were bringing him. Stretching his arms above his head, rolling his head to get the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, Franky tried to amp himself up a bit, “Let’s go get coffee and head over there. We gotta get this done.”

[frankybjorg]

fryingpansftw​:

“I’m a painter, not a performer,” Rider said, dropping his arms and rolling his eyes. “You need set pieces, I’m your guy. But I’m not, what musical is it again?” he feigned thinking, then continued, “Right, Chicago. I’m no Billy Flynn.” He shrugged and gave a wink, knowing he’d impress his cousin just by even knowing anything about musicals in the first place.

     “Whatever you say, dude. But you’re missing out,” Franky shrugged. He wasn’t going to pretend that he wasn’t surprised that Rider knew the musical, because he was, but he narrowed his eyes a bit, “Who told you what we were doing? Or are you secretly hiding in the shadows of the theater, wishing it was you up there so you could be Billy Flynn?”

[frankybjorg]

chloegoof​:

@frankybjorg​

“I got my scriiiipt,” Chloe sing-songed and waved the thick manuscript in Franky’s face, then proceeded to do a happy dance. “Ugh, I’m so excited. And nervous. I might throw up. I’ve never been the lead before - you know that, duh, of course you know that - but so ready.”

“….sorry, I’m like, rambling your ears off.”

     “Don’t be sorry! I’m excited for you, I’m fully prepared to have you ramble my ears off as much as you want,” Franky teased, laughing softly at Chloe’s dance of excitement. “I knew you had the stuff for a lead but you had to find that on your own. You’re gonna kill it up there. I couldn’t picture our lead as anyone else, to be honest.”

     “I’m just bummed I didn’t get to see that audition. Doc said you were amazing -- which doesn’t surprise me. Should make him film them for me when I’m stuck here working on the music.”

[frankybjorg]

martyjmurphy​:

“I am a drummer, not a singer,” Marty answered, “And think about it, I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if I tried. Plus knowing my luck, I’d fall off the stage.”

     “You can be our jester -- whenever we do a show that needs one, anyway. You’d be perfect for it. No need for singing and you can be as clumsy as life wants you to be!” Sell him, Franky. 

[frankybjorg]

fryingpansftw​:

“You are a dingus,” Rider said, laugh-groaning with a roll of his eyes as he shoved his cousin away. “I’m not auditioning. I don’t sing.” He crossed his arms with a huff and raised a brow. “You should focus on, you know, those that do. Since this is a musical and all.”

     “I don’t sing, he says. Mhm, sure. Okay,” the sarcasm was more than obvious. Shoving his cousin back a little a couple times, trying to break those arms away from his chest, “Come on, dude. You audition, imagine all the people that smile will bring! Get em all swooning and wanting to work with you? Win, win.”

[frankybjorg]

yourhuckleberryx​:

@frankybjorg​

Investigating the pivotal backdrop disaster was proving to be more time consuming than he had previously planned. He thought it would be a simple revelation. Someone would come forward in the following days and confess. Though Doc had himself to blame for no confessions– he had proven to both the staff and the actors he wasn’t the greatest when it came to calm, collected confrontations. Bygones.

“What’d you find?” Doc asked, slowly pulling his attention away from the piece of wood he was examining. The triangle shaped piece of wood in question was used as the door wedge, providing little to no evidence in this case. But there were very few things to examine in this entrance hall. Franky, however, seemed to be onto something. “What is it, boy? Has Timmy fallen in the well?” 

     “Don’t make me hit you,” Franky glared at the Lassie like tease from Doc. It was a normal interaction for them, so it didn’t bother him as much as he let on. Plus, he’d give Doc a pass considering they were both on edge with the backdrop mess. Holding up his phone, a picture of a shoe print in red paint on the screen, “Looks like someone tried to hide some evidence from us. Whoever our culprit is made even more of a mess,” he sighed, running his free hand down his face. 

“I swear, this crew is trying to give us heart attacks at young ages. Now we gotta hunt down whoever made this shoe print.” Franky hadn’t slept much since the disaster happened, fueled by coffee and the desperate desire to figure out who the hell did this. Revenge was looking real nice. At least he had Doc to go through it with.

[frankybjorg]

xotheicequeen​:

She hummed in response, not missing her days doing costume design. The days before shows were always the worst. “Yeah, I don’t envy you at all right now.” Laila dropped her head to rest against his shoulder as they walked towards the theater. “Nothing.” She gave him a small smile and shook her head, “Do I need a reason to come visit you every now and then? But don’t you go getting like the rest of our family, okay?” She scrunched her nose a bit, “I swear, every time I visit someone without it being a holiday or special occasion, everyone always assumes someone died or something.”

Laila followed him inside. “Want me to help with anything? I’m not working today.”

     “You know I won’t act like that towards you. Ever. Just wanting to make sure one of my favorite people was doing okay, is all,” he slid his arm free from hers so that he could wrap it around her shoulder, pulling her close for a side hug as they walked. As they walked inside the theater, Franky let go of his cousin and hit the lights with a sigh, “I’d love your help. Even just your company. Gotta go over the music and make sure it’s all working well. Again. I swear I go over it all twenty times and I’m never happy with it until opening night.”

[connerhudsonlove]

#mood

[yourhuckleberryx]

@frankybjorg

[frankybjorg]

xotheicequeen​:

“Oh, look. He’s still alive,” Laila commented as she caught up to her cousin, giving him a look. She nudged him teasingly, before looping her arm with his. “I’ve been texting you all morning.”

@frankybjorg​

     “I know, I know. Late nights equal me sleeping in way too late. Upcoming show and all that,” he smiled at his cousin, hip bumping her a bit as their arms linked. Walking down the sidewalk towards the theater -- he never stops when there is a production going. Well. He at least did late nights and then slept all day -- he was a night owl. “What’s up, cuz?”

[frankybjorg]

     “Come on! You know you want to audition. What’s it gonna hurt? I promise to keep my phone in my pocket. No filming for blackmail purposes!” Francis made an X over his heart with his finger. Hoping his puppy dog eyes would work.

[bigtimerush-source-blog]