frankie !!

my name is frankie! clearly. this is my brand freaking new blog :)

im autistic! hi! my special interests are celebrity culture, snl, & the 70s/80s :3 my current hyperfixations are jeff conaway/taxi and movin’ on!!

my other interests are. martin short, dan aykroyd, bon jovi, classic literature, varian fry, parrots, theatre, and film!!

i have a parrot named milo!! im a film student, too :3 im currently writing a short film that i plan on going into production next summer (2027) so look for updates on that. yay

i love my friends!!!!!! im working on my strawpage but for now look at this school project i did! (only viewable on ipad/computer)

here are my tags!!!

#frankie art

#frankie write

#frankie edit

Will Chandler/Sonny Pruitt character study

Shirt open, long bent over the hood of his truck, Will was comfortably sat on the big front wheel. He was not typically the one for manual labor, taking Sonny’s broadness to advantage. He’d sit back and admire the sweat-slicked grease-covered view, blonde fringe all in his eyes. Today was not the day, and now the roles were reversed.

He’d done enough life-risking this past week, and craved the gentle domesticity of being on the road with Sonny. Tall, dark, handsome Sonny. So, he offered to fix the minute issues with the truck while Sonny sat and took a much needed break. He sat on a block of wood with his coffee in his thermos, taking conservative sips. Now, blonde fringe still in his eyes, Will was the one sweat-slicked and grease-covered.

“You’re way too smug about this,” he huffed, wiping his dirtied hands with a nearby rag. Sonny managed a shrug, his head comfortably lolling to one side.

“You’re the one that offered,” Sonny responded. Will waved a dismissive hand at him. He’d gotten the short end of the eyesight stick, having blue eyes and blonde eyelashes, on top of a constant cigar smoking. He avoided sunlight like the plague, his eyes sensitive to nearly everything around them.

“Shoulda gotten some sunglasses, I knew it,” he complained, wiping at his forehead.

“I told you to get some, babe, I really did,” Sonny shrugged, digging into the bag beside him. He tossed a pair of sunglasses to his partner, who made an exasperated noise and perched them on his nose. “Losing all that smoke would sure help your bein’ able to see.”

“Yap, yap, yap,” Will huffed in response, jumping down from the wheel. “Lose my cigars? You’re crazy.” He stepped toward Sonny, gesturing at the canteen by his bag. “Hand me that, would you?” And Sonny obliged, tossing it up to the blonde. Sweat drilled down the crevices of Will’s face, pooling in areas and dripping down others.

“Workin’ hard?” Sonny took another sip of his coffee.

“Hardly workin’,” Will responded, ever playfully tossing his wrench to Sonny, who caught it without flinching. His eyes never left Will’s, though, fixated on looking at the blonde in front of him.

“You get finer every day, you know that?” His voice softened as he sat up, and Will put his hands on his hips.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Sonny Pruitt,” he teased, finally shedding himself of his open shirt. Sonny blew out gently, not trying to hide where his eyes landed, the sweaty abdomen of his loverboy.