frankcarlisle

[frankcarlisle]

"Relax? Never heard of her," Frankie joked, taking another long sip from his coffee mug before placing it back on the table. Between work, neverending calls with his divorce lawyer, taking care of his kids, and dealing with the aftermath of his mother's death, he'd essentially forgot how to put his feet up -- a stark contrast to the way he had been living prior to the divorce, but that had been destructive in the complete opposite direction. At this point, Frankie couldn't remember what a normal life was supposed to look like. "But I'll be there. It'll be nice, and I can finally give Maeve that painting." Beverly had been quite a prolific artist throughout her life, so there were a ton of works that he wanted to ensure made it into good hands.

Frankie's brow knit together as he attempted to recall the specific evening Darragh was referencing -- which was a bit difficult considering how much time they spent together week by week. "Uh, yeah. When we went bar hopping in Midtown, right?" The night was still fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered the three of them going out and having a good time, followed by Frankie waking up in some stranger's bed the next morning. Hearing the concern become more palpable in his friend's voice then, he set the laptop back down and faced the male fully. "Wait --" The revelation had the former ballplayer confused then. Darrragh and Madi had been a couple once upon a time, but that fact had been history for longer than he could even recall. And then there was the fact that Darragh had only more recently revealed the impending dissolution of his marriage and the reasoning behind it...and then it all clicked. If the fact that Darragh had cheated with his sister wasn't enough to write home about, then the fact that his best friend had been lying to him really took the cake.

" -- so, what you're tellin' me is, you made my sister a fucking homewrecker?"

Darragh nodded, wholesome smile on his lips as Frankie mentioned the girls. His best friend may have struggled in some areas, had his own demons to battle, but he was a decent father, and Mac respected that. "You know she'd love nothing more. Plus all the kids will be over. Give them something to do, let you relax a little." With ten siblings, there was sibling a horde of nieces and nephews in Darragh's life, enough that he often wondered how he kept it all in his head, the names, birthdays, soccer games and recitals. Then, he knew, that was what love was. Knowing them all, in some way.

"— Not quite." Darragh replied, glancing away, his brow stooping. "That night that we went out, months ago? The night you brought Madi out with you?" It'd been a simple enough request, if his sister could tag along. Sure, Darragh and Madi were exes, but Darragh was married, it'd been years. Madi had had a kid since then. Surely, bygones could be bygones. And since Darragh had very much needed a friend that night, he'd welcomed the addition. Something further to distract him, to divert him from the hellscape his personal life had become. "When Madi came out, I mean." Swallowing the lump in his throat, Darragh readjusted himself, looking at Frankie straight on. This was his best friend. His brother. He couldn't keep a secret, not like that. "We slept together." It felt like the easiest way to do it, to stop mincing words, just to say it, exactly as it was.

[frankcarlisle]

"What else is new," he mumbled, not quite in the mood to give into is sister's petulant attitude -- it seemed like he was getting chewed out on all ends from the women in his life, and frankly it was exhausting. "Don't worry, I get reminded every single fucking day," Frankie replied with a similar wry, teasing tone, though he was really only half-kidding. Between his custody battle with Willa and her cousin constantly coming for his throat every time they crossed paths, he felt like he couldn't get a break. "You don't go through two divorces without learnin' some hard truths," the male smirked then, shaking his head.

"Yep." Frank Sr. had gone through a number of staff through the years, but this one in particular had stuck out to him. Extending his hand to grab hold of one of glasses, Frankie immediately brought the dark liquid to his lips with a chuckle. "Mine at least does. Still got that Kelly Kapowski poster above my bed -- in mint condition, no less." He pointed out, brows arched. At the mention of his wife, the former ballplayer nodded and let out a quiet sigh. "'Til next weekend. We still haven't nailed down a set schedule," jaw clenching, Frankie took another long sip, "and it doesn't look like we're getting any closer to making one. Have I already told you to never get married? Because my point still stands."

"Fine. I'll help. Just know I'm going to complain the entire time." That was what she was good at anyways. It pained her to go through their mother's belongings. Despite all the preparation they had done to prepare for their mother's passing, it didn't make it any easier. All the items sitting in the room only served as a bitter reminder that she wasn't with them any longer. Beverly was gone, and they all had to figure out how to go on without her. "You can be so annoying sometimes. Are you like aware of that?" She was only kidding, sort of. It was only because she knew he was right. Hiring someone to go through their mother's items was a little extreme.

"Sandy? That is the lady with the short brown hair right?" Madi was trying her best to recall who he was talking about. "Mom might have had her number stored in the filing cabinet. I'll look for it tomorrow." She brought the bottle back into the room, two glasses in her other hand. "We can. Dean's at a sleepover." Also, she didn't really want to go home to a quiet house. "I'm sure our bedrooms look the exact same as they did the day we moved out." Madi unscrewed the cap, before pouring a small amount into each glass. Handing one to Frankie, before putting the bottle to the side. "Girls with Willa?"

[frankcarlisle]

✧ SEBASTIAN STAN SHARPER, 2023 dir. Benjamin Caron

[frankcarlisle]

"I'm here now, okay? And would you look at that, the world didn't fall apart," he bit back, voice low yet dripping with a similar venom. Now wasn't the time or place to get into a screaming match with his estranged wife less they wanted to make fools of themselves. At the end of the day, his guilt and the patience that came with it only went so far, and he wouldn't allow himself to be walked all over simply because it satisfied Willa's desire for retribution.

"It's fine," he assured, though his tone didn't to much to affirm that. It was no secret that his relationship with CJ was somehow just as, if not more, volatile than his relationship with Willa. "And I'm the only one here married to their job?" Frankie scoffed, shaking his head. "Don't act like I'm the bad guy here just because I'm not resuscitating people during my nine to five. 'Least the girls can tag along with me whenever they want." Or whenever their mother would allow, he wanted to add, but decided not to. Pursing his lips slightly, the former ballplayer shook his head. "Not at all. He's been asking when the girls are gonna come over next, anyway." Frank Senior had been having a tough go of it after Beverly had passed, so being around his granddaughters seemed like a great way to lift his spirits. "He doesn't have a lot goin' on these days, and --" he paused, resisting the urge to sigh, "I do know he'd like to see you. Even if it was just for a minute during drop off or pick up."

"Maybe it's something you should think about taking daily. You know, anything to help you make it on time." She threw back, with no attempt to hide the eye roll that followed behind her words quickly. It was always something with him. His affair had been followed by the entirely too-long divorce process that Willa was ready to be done with. Sitting beside her was the one person she had planned to spend the rest of her life with, but instead, they were fighting custody battles and sitting in meetings as they figured out the divide of all of their belongings. It was hard not to be bitter when it came to Frankie.

"I didn't have much of a choice, while on a time crunch. I already told her you were picking them up." Willa sighed as she ran a hand down her face. Where was the damn teacher? The sooner they got through this, the sooner Willa could get back to work. "I'm sure the girls would much rather be with their father than a babysitter, but it's hard when said father is constantly preoccupied with work." She leaned back in the plastic chair they were sitting in, before pulling her phone out from her purse. "Your dad won't be overwhelmed watching three kids?" She glanced up to look at him. Her father-in-law hadn't been her first choice in childcare options, but she was out of options for the week. If he'd be willing to watch the girls she wasn't going to fight it. It was better than having to worry about a flying baseball hitting one of them in their heads.

[frankcarlisle]

Two divorces before the age of forty. Now, Frankie wasn't one to get easily embarrassed, but this wasn't exactly a point of pride for him, nor was the fact that he'd essentially been the cause of both separations. One would think he'd learn his lesson after the first time, or at least stop himself from making even worse mistakes. "That time already, huh? You know I gotta have some of Maeve's famous sauce in my house at all times," he gave his friend a knowing look, breaking out into a smirk. "I've actually got the girls this weekend, so maybe we'll all stop by so she can get her baby fix." Having Mac's family to lean on had been a godsent, especially with the recent death of his own mother. The McGregors just had a way of making him feel comfortable, safe, even despite the fact that their respective upbringings couldn't have been more different, At the mention of his sister, Frankie simply quirked his brows in acknowledgment. "Yeah? Don't tell me you're droppin' in on yoga classes now," he joked, moving over to the coffee mug he kept on his desk and pouring the remainder of his Starbucks order into it. "I did briefly, but I'll take another look." Considering everything that was going on in his life, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if made some sort of oversight. Leaning forward, Frankie used his fingers to scroll through the document, eyes narrowed as he did so. "Yeah, okay. Shoot," the male urged, not hearing the slight nervousness in his best friend's voice. What reason would he have to expect that anything was amiss?

While Darragh didn’t envy Frankie’s marriage (in the slightest) he did yearn for something as trivial as a parent-teacher conference. He wanted that, the mundane family life. But, as Darragh had recently begun to muse, that simply may not be in the cards for him. Not every person fulfilled every dream — he would have to find other ways to fulfill himself. “No surprise there.” Darragh laughed softly, brow raising at his friend. “Nothing crazy. Ma’s the same as always. She said to stop by on Sunday if you want some of her sauce. She’s canning this week, so you can take it to go. After you get grilled, of course.” Frankie was practically family, if not by blood then by sheer presence and association. For Maeve McGregor, what was one more mouth to feed at that point? “I actually ran into Madi, the other day.” He noted almost absentmindedly. He wanted to gauge what Frankie knew — had Willa mentioned anything? Probably not. But what he wasn’t sure of is if Madi had. Did Frankie know what Darragh had dragged his sister into? He’d hoped not. If Frankie was going to know, Darragh would prefer it came from his own lips. “I don’t know if you had a chance to go over the spreadsheets, but everything seems to be on track, target-wise.” He explained carefully, turning his laptop for Frankie to scroll through if he so wished. “I um — Really wanted to talk to you about something else, actually.”

[frankcarlisle]

Frank couldn't help chuckle that fell from his lips then. "Everyone has their triggers, I guess. Even well-behaved dogs," he offered with a shrug, glancing down at the pups. It wasn't that he hated dogs -- no, there were definitely some cute ones out there -- he just wasn't an animal person in general. Call him an anomaly of his generation of pet-lovers, but Frankie had always been of the mind that if it wasn't his own flesh and blood, he didn't want to deal with it. "Mmh, well, guess you found her new favorite place," the male remarked wryly, watching as the canines fell into line besides the other. This emitted another squeal from Emmy, who was practically foaming at the mouth to get closer to them. God, he was going to have his hands full as she got older, wasn't he? "That's good, that's good. Less insurance you gotta go through -- though, I doubt you'd be able to file a claim against 'em." He smirked.

A grin spread across his cheeks as the man offered the little girl a chance to meet the dogs properly, pressing a hand to her back to urge her forward. "Go on," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Emmy gingerly approach them with a timid hand. "They're real beautiful, aren't they, Em?" She nodded then, and the former ballplayer looked up to meet the man's gaze. "I'm Frankie, by the way," he extended his arm, giving the other a firm shake, "and this is Emmy. How about we head over to the coffee cart on the corner for a fresh one, yeah? Goin' without a cup of joe in the morning is practically sacrilegious, and I'm due for a cup anyway. Our treat."

Embarrassed would’ve been an understatement for whatever rush of emotions Patrick felt upon quite literally falling to a stranger’s feet. He was quick to get back onto his own, thanking the other in a rush as he tried his best to regain his composure and hopefully at least some of his dignity. What was even more humbling, was that he knew better. Patrick had dogs in his life for as long as he could remember – even back on the farm he grew up on, there’d always been one or two dogs around, leaving out the countless ones he’d met working as a vet. “I swear – and yes, I know this is a very cliché thing to say as a dog owner but she’s usually very calm,” Patrick insisted under a breathless chuckle, his palms smoothing over the front of his coat before he reached up to drag his now free hand over his jaw. “No – no, it looked worse than it was, I promise. She just caught me off-guard but by god, she loves squirrels,” he said, as if that was a proper excuse and he realized that once again, he should explain. He told his dogs to sit and they listened immediately, settling calmly next to him. One to his left, the other to his right. “She thinks they’re her buddies and they’re playing a game of catch,” he told the man but looked over to the girl accompanying him. “It’s her favorite,” Patrick added with a smile. “But uh – no. No broken screens or bones, I think. Just a tragic loss of a perfectly brewed coffee.”

He tugged on the dogs’ leashes lightly when he realized that the child was trying to pet them. “Stay,” he whispered under his breath and thankfully, the dogs remained still, merely their tails started wagging with excitement which was exactly what he’d expected to happen. Nothing more, nothing less, much to the child’s and her father’s luck. “It’s perfectly fine,” he assured. “Once again, very cliché, but they’re good dogs. Your dad’s right though,” Patrick said, leaning down to retrieve the now empty cup of coffee to throw away later but also to get on the girl’s level, a gentle smile slowly replacing the frown that had been plastered on his features before. “Not every dog is patient and kind like these two. It’s better to ask first before touching them but if it’s okay with you two – you can go ahead. This one’s Meadow,” he told her, gesturing at the white Samoyed. “And this one’s Jet,” Patrick added, getting back up before gently patting the black Labrador’s head.

[frankcarlisle]

It wasn't that he didn't understand CJ's rage -- he did, probably more than she would expect. His infidelity was something he didn't just happen upon; it was a slippery slope, one that he'd descended upon over a matter of months until he was so careless with his actions that he never even considered that it was possible for him to get caught right up until he did. Then everything came crashing down, his marriage and multiple friendships with it. It was crazy, how everything could spin one-hundred and eighty degrees so fast -- how quickly a close friend like CJ could give up on him. It was understandable, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like all hell.

Frankie rolled his eyes in response to the brunette's snarky comments, already exhausted only a minute into stepping through the door. "Thank you for the reminder, I completely forgot what it is my wife does for a living." Calling her his 'ex' still didn't feel right, especially since they weren't actually divorced yet. Not even close, actually, given how slowly the proceedings had been going the past two years. "I didn't ask," he shot back, finding it hard to stay civil when CJ was shooting bullets at him left and right. Now, Frankie never claimed to be an overly patient man, but whatever patience he did have was wearing thin by the minute. "It's an expression," he said through gritted teeth. "When are you gonna give it up, CJ, huh? It's been two fucking years and you're still actin' like a petulant fucking child." The former ballplayer made sure to keep his voice at a relatively low volume, not wanting to stir his kids. "I made a mistake, one that I am paying for. I don't need your fuckin' commentary every time we see each other, which -- sorry for you -- is probably going to be fairly often unless Willa decides she wants sole custody. And that ain't gonna happen, so get off your high fucking horse and remember that you ain't perfect either, princess."

Generally, once CJ decided to care about someone that was it, and whoever she deemed worthy of her affection was pretty much stuck with her. No one had managed to successfully wriggle their way out of receiving her particular brand of aggressive caring. But, while her loyalty was usually unfailing, it did have its limits. And Frankie had pushed beyond them and then some. The affair alone would have been enough for her to cut him off when hell would freeze over before she sided with someone else over her family. But there was another edge to the knife she felt as though Frankie had left in all their backs. She'd trusted him. Trusted him enough to set him up with her cousin and she was endlessly bitter that he'd turned out to be so disappointing.

Given that she knew him so well ( or she thought she had ) it was little surprise that he was nonplussed enough by her attitude to hit back with some of his own. "I was great until about two minutes ago." Once it might have been a relief to have someone who gave as good as they got but now she only found it irritating. "I'm sure she has her reasons. Probably busy saving lives." The words had been delivered sweetly, never passing up an opportunity "My evening plans are none of your fucking business." Her only real plan had been to take Rocky for a run but he didn't need to know that. Eyes drifted pointedly over to her loyal boxer at Frankie's latest quip. "Jesus, I knew that your eyesight wasn't great - how else could you end up in bed with a woman who wasn't your wife - but I didn't think you'd lost the ability to tell the difference between a cat and a dog."

[frankcarlisle]

Frankie sent a frustrated glance in his sister's direction, a sigh falling from his lips then. He couldn't be that annoyed at his sister's hesitance to continue -- they'd both had maintained a close relationship with their mother over the years, something that couldn't necessarily be said for other privileged kids in their positions whom had primarily been raised by housekeepers and nannies. Despite her busy schedule, Beverly and Frank had always made it a point to spend quality time with their kids, something that he hoped to do with his own daughters. Madi's reluctance to box up their mother's things was due to her own grief, and while he understood, his way of dealing with grief was facing it head on. "I'm not hiring someone to go through mom's stuff," he repeated, brows raised. "If you don't want to do this with me, fine, but then you don't get to complain when I donate somethin' you wanted for yourself or Dean." He wasn't trying to be harsh, but sometimes his sister needed a dose of reality.

"That ain't a bad idea. He had that assistant for a while after he retired -- what was her name? Sandy? Maybe we could get her back on the books." Perhaps it was excessive for a man who hadn't worked in years, but considering he no longer had his life partner to split tasks with, it wouldn't be the worst idea to bring in some help. "Fine, two boxes." He relented, knowing he'd probably empty another one or two after she left for the hell of it. The girls were with Willa and he didn't have anything to do that night anyways. "You say potato, I say potato..." Frankie trailed off, rolling his sleeves up his forearm before pushing the finished box aside. "Yeah, next to the bitters -- and that depends, are we sleepin' here tonight?" He asked, preferring not to have to take an Uber if he could help it, especially since he'd driven.

Continued from here

Madi couldn’t help the sigh, part of it from annoyance, the other part because it was beginning to feel overwhelming. Beverly’s items sprawled across the floor of her old office, and Madi wasn’t sure what exactly qualified as important enough to keep. If it were up to her, they would just donate everything. She didn’t want to be reminded of her mother every time she looked at one of her mother’s art pieces or one of the bells she used to collect. However, she knew Frankie and their father would protest to that idea. “I think it’d be faster if we made a list. Gave it to the said hired person.” She shrugged, before throwing another book into the donate box. 

“Maybe we should get him a personal shopper. Or at least instacart it for him. I don’t think he knows what he’s doing.” Hell, she didn’t think any of them knew what they were doing. Beverly had been the glue that held them all together, and when she got sick, Madi saw it beginning to unravel, and now she was watching everything fall apart. “Fine.” She groaned. “Two boxes. Then we’re out of here.” She tried to compromise, hoping with something to drink it’ll make the task go by faster. ‘i’m not a brat, Frankie. I just have high expectations.” She countered with an eye roll, before moving to stand. “Under the bar?” She asked as she made her way out of the room and down the hall where the bar sat. “Glasses? Or just bring the bottle?” She called out. 

@frankcarlisle

[frankcarlisle]

“Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free and detached as boats to the dock?“

FRANKLIN ‘FRANKIE’ CARLISLE II

Age: 39 Gender and pronouns: Male, He/Him Occupation: Bench Coach for the Philadelphia Phillies Neighborhood: Rittenhouse

BIOGRAPHY

tw: infidelity

Being born into Carlisle Dynasty meant that you were destined for greatness, and no one was more acutely aware of that than Frankie Carlisle. As the eldest of Franklin Carlisle, the head football coach over at Villanova, and Beverly Carlisle, CEO of one of the most prolific art museums in the city, the young boy knew from a young age that he had big shoes to fill.

Getting into sports was a no brainer for Frankie given his father’s career, but the question on everyone’s mind was which one he’d excel at the most. As a student at Oak Brooke Private school, he had the pick of the litter so to speak, and once he got his hands around a baseball bat that question was answered. His name got his foot in the door, but his skills on the field let him stay there. As a freshman in high school, Frankie was making varsity and winning MVP awards left and right, receiving sports scholarships and essentially able to go anywhere he wanted to for college. Enrolling in Villanova was a no-brainer, staying close to home and on the same campus as his father.

The year after graduation was a big one for Frankie; getting married to his college sweetheart, Anabel, and getting drafted to the Philadelphia Phillies. It was like the young man was on cloud nine, the world opening up for him in ways he never could have dreamed. Soon he was traveling the country, playing a game he loved as his job, making his own income, and married to the love of his life. But the honeymoon phase can’t last forever, and after picking his career over his wife over and over again, Anabel asked for a divorce. It was amicable for the most part, and though devastated Frankie understood that the way he wanted to live his life was incompatible with hers, and so Frankie was single and living on his own once more at 25.

Single life wasn’t actually so bad once he got over the initial heartbreak. Now the male could stay out late, not worry about keeping anyone waiting, not ask for anyone’s permission – with the glamorous lifestyle he was leading, it would have been too difficult to keep a steady relationship anyway. Instead, he focused on himself and his family, investing in his sister’s future by purchasing her yoga studio, remodeling his parents’ home, going on lavish vacations and spending more money he knew what to do with. Everything felt perfect, but at some point it all felt…repetitive.

Enter Willa. He’d initially thought about cancelling the blind date set up by a couple of friends of his, but after meeting the brilliant, gorgeous doctor, Frankie was smitten. In less than a year they were moving in together, married, planning their future. This time it would be different, he’d devote himself entirely to his wife and to the family he yearned to have – at least, that was the plan. At the age of thirty, Frankie retired from playing in the MLB and instead was offered a position with his old team as the Bench Coach. More money, less grunt work, a slightly more flexible schedule. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

After years of trying to get pregnant, the couple finally had their first child, Emmaline. That first year of parenthood was filled with ups and downs, testing their relationship in ways they’d never been challenged before. They loved their daughter, but as the days went by it felt like the only thing they had in common. Between their equally busy schedules, the fighting, and then the stress of trying to get pregnant a second time, Frankie felt himself slipping into old, selfish habits. Nights out with the guys turned into flirtatious banter with women at the bars, which turned into suggestive conversations, then make out sessions in the bathroom, until finally Frankie finally any shred of a conscience he had left.

But then Willa finally got pregnant with their second child, and in that same week found out about his infidelity. Though he swore up and down, left and right that he put an end to his bad habits, the seal of trust between them had been broken. They attempted to work things out as she moved through the pregnancy, but after their daughter Olivia was born, they realized the damage was irreparable.  

Two years later and still in the midst of a messy divorce, Frankie is trying his best to look at the positives. With the recent death of his mother, Frankie is trying to focus on the things that matter the most to him and keep his head above water, but only time will tell if that will be enough to satiate him in the long run.

FRANKIE CARLISLE has the face claim of SEBASTIAN STAN and is played by RACH.

[frankcarlisle]

Frankie bit his tongue in response to her slight, normally not one to shy away from confrontation but deciding that their kid's school, out of all places, wasn't exactly the best time to engage. "There was an accident outside the exit to the stadium. Sorry I didn't bring my flying car to work today," he tossed back instead, brows arched ever so slightly as he met her gaze. He couldn't help but remember a time when his sarcasm would make her laugh, an easy way to break whatever lingering tension there was between them whether it be after a fight or a relatively stressful day. But now? Whatever love was left between them had turned entirely cynical, vicious, leaving them as adversaries rather than lovers. And it was all his fault.

"Oh, great," Frankie breathed, rubbing the stubble on the side of his face with his hand. His exasperation was due to two things: the babysitter having the flu, obviously, and then the fact that CJ was watching them. He didn't doubt her cousin's ability to handle children -- she'd watched them for years -- but considering her animosity towards him, it wasn't the best situation when it came to pick up time. "Y'know, my dad watches Dean most of the time when Mads is busy. Could ask him to watch 'em," he paused, "or I could take 'em to work with me. They like playing in the dugout when we're on the field, and the guys are real good with them." A shrug. "I know that ain't part of the 'plan' right now but I'm sure they'd rather be with their father than a babysitter anyway." There was a bit of snark in his voice that he couldn't exactly negate, but his point still stood.

-

If there was one thing Willa was going to be, it was on time. It was something her dad had instilled on her early on. However, she didn’t expect Frankie to be on time. Not that he ever was, though these days she stopped expecting much of anything from her soon-to-be ex-husband. So, there she sat outside the door of Emmy’s classroom. The door was shut, and she could only assume that either the teacher forgot about the meeting, or she too, was running behind. Regardless, she sat scrolling through her phone. 

Willa had glanced up just in time to see Frankie making his way down the hallway, making his way towards her direction. “Could you try to be on time for something, just once?” She said, meeting his eyes as he took the seat beside her. The last two years were spent in the courtroom, going through every item they owned, every dollar they earned, and a messy custody battle. “Cj is watching them. The sitter called and said she was sick and thinks it’s the flu.’ Willa couldn’t help but let out a sigh, unsure of what she was going to do the rest of the week - but that was a problem for tonight. 

[frankcarlisle]

One thing about Frankie that no one could deny: he was always in the market for new business ventures. Whether that was investing in his sister's yoga studio, putting money towards a local business getting its footing in the area, or even opening up his own shop with one of his best friends, you could bet the former ballplayer was in it one-hundred and ten percent. Besides, with how busy Frankie was on any given day between work and his personal life, it was nice to have an excuse to hang out with Mac. "Hey brother," Frankie greeted with a smile, letting the door swing close and following the male towards the back room. "Girls are good. I've gotta go to a parent-teacher conference for Emmy next week -- apparently she's been talking back in class. Like father like daughter I guess," he couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head. "What about you, what's happening? How's Ma?"

CLOSED START FOR: @frankcarlisle LOCATION: the bodega (mccarlisle's), fishtown

When Frankie had suggested that he and Mac invest in a small business, he'd not thought twice about it, having been single and having accumulated a great amount of savings because of it. It was a steady and tidy income, something that didn't require a great deal of maintenance on Mac's part, and was a way for he and Frankie to bond. They'd been friends for most of his life, so it meant something that they could be business partners, too. When the door chimed, only a few minutes past when they'd agreed to meet to go over quarterlies, he looked up with a small smile. "Hey man." He nodded, scooping up his laptop and gesturing towards their back room. "How are the girls doing?" He knew not to ask about Willa — their wives in general were just a poor topic of conversation for the pair, and worse still that they'd married into the same family.

[frankcarlisle]

"Daddy, can we get a doggy?"

The question had become routine for his six-year old, especially when they'd take walks through Rittenhouse Square on Frankie's days with the kids. The park was constantly full of canines on and off leash, and while the male was content with the views and the occasional interactions that very much didn't mean he wanted to take care of an animal the girls would only see a couple of times a week -- maybe less, maybe more depending on whenever the custody battle with Willa started wrapping up, and who knew then the hell that would be.

"We've been over this, Emmy. If we get a dog, I'll have to give him some of your toys," he arched his brows, giving the little girl a knowing look. "And if you don't like sharing with your sister, I don't think you'll like sharing with something with very sharp teeth." Emmy gave her father a pout, to which he had to hold back a chuckle. Maybe lying wasn't the best way to get what he wanted, but after becoming a parent he learned that it was the quickest way to get his kids to settle. Giving her hand a light squeeze, Frankie opened his mouth to say something else when suddenly he witnessed a man stumbling to a fall right in front of him, coffee splashing against the toe of his shoe as Emmy squealed in delight at the sight of the dogs pulling this poor man along. Another reason he didn't want a damn dog.

"Holy hell, man, who's walking who?" He joked, letting go of his daughter's hand and using it to help the poor sucker up. Frankie had seen his fair share of wipe outs in the park, but this one definitely looked the most painful. "I should be asking you that. Phone ain't cracked in half, is it? Or, uh, any bones?" he arched a brow, glancing over at Emmy who'd become entranced with the two dogs that'd lead to the man's ultimate demise and began to pet them . "Sorry -- she's a little bit canine crazy. Pretty much has tunnel vision when she sees one." The former ballplayer reached over and tugged the little girl towards him, before whispering, "What did I tell you about asking permission first, huh?"

Location: Rittenhouse Square Park 🌳 Status: open starter @philly-starters

"Yes, mom - I did have breakfast. No, it wasn't just a coffee, I'm fine! I told you."

There was an agitation to Patrick's tone, one that seemed almost permanently attached at this point whenever his mother started asking questions he was slowly but surely getting sick of. Some of them being "Are you taking care of yourself?" or "Are you doing okay?" The real answer was always no but Patrick knew what she wanted to hear and maybe, in a way, he needed to say it more in order to start believing it himself. Yet, it was tiring and Patrick was always tired anyways so this didn't exactly help his case. He lowered his phone and let out sigh before putting it back up against his ear, a fake smile spreading across his lips so it'd register on the other end of the line. "What about you?" He asked, trying to somehow coordinate holding a phone, a leash that had two dogs attached and a cup of coffee when suddenly a squirrel ran across their path. "Oh shit," Patrick breathed. "No, not you - I - yeah, mom? I gotta go."

That was all he managed to choke out before his day turned into one that seemed like it was taken right out of some over the top romcom if you took away both, the romance and the comedy - at least for the protagonist. One of his dogs had spotted the squirrel and before he could say anything, Meadow, his usually rather calm samoyed, gave her leash a good tug that had Patrick tumbling forward, causing him to drop his phone along with his coffee in the process. The sound was enough for his dogs to focus back on him but the damage was done and he could feel at least one pair of eyes on him in a way that caused a flush to creep up his neck. "Well...that was embarrassing," he said to the person the coffee had splashed in front of and he was quick to reach down to retrieve his phone. "I'm so sorry about that. Is everything okay?" And now, on top of everything, he sounded exactly like his mother.

[frankcarlisle]

SEBASTIAN STAN as Frank in ’Endings, Beginnings’(2020). Dir. by Drake Doremus.

[frankcarlisle]

Despite the ongoing divorce proceedings and custody battle between he and his soon to be ex-wife, one thing that you could always count on Frankie for was being there for his kids. He figured the last thing he Willa wanted to do was ask him for help, especially considering it wasn't his weekend with the kids, but after a SOS text that consisted of her getting called in for emergency surgery and the babysitter cancelling (along with the back-up not being available), Frankie found himself getting in the car and driving over to CJ's to pickup the girls for the evening.

Her reaction to seeing his face on the other side of the door wasn't at all surprising, unfortunately. Once relatively close friends, their relationship had gone sour -- and quick -- after word of his infidelity had gotten out. While he couldn't blame her for being upset, it seemed that CJ had completely written him off without a second thought, something that stung more than he'd ever be willing to admit. "Hi, CJ. I'm fine, thanks for asking -- how are you?" He gave her an exaggerated grin before allowing his expression to fall, following her in without hesitation. "I'm guessing Willa didn't tell you the plan had changed." Surprise, surprise, he wanted to add, but didn't. "Don't worry, I'm not here to intrude on what I'm sure are very exciting evening plans." His voice dripped with sarcasm, arms crossing comfortably over his chest. "Might go quicker without the attitude, though. I'm here to pick up your baby cousins, not kill your fucking cat."

CJ’s apartment, Fishtown || @frankcarlisle

The importance of family had been impressed upon her from a young age and it was one of the few things in life that CJ knew without a doubt to be true. She couldn't imagine a time where she wouldn't want to move heaven and earth for her family so when her cousin had texted her asking if she was free to watch her pseudo-nieces, it felt as though it was the least that she could do. At the knock on the door she opened it with a grin, fully expecting it to be Willa, only for the happiness to drop from her features the minute she realised who it was instead. “You gotta be kidding me.” The warmth left her gaze and her expression hardened, it almost impossible to believe that she'd once counted Frankie among the people she cared most about. She'd felt as though she'd lost a family member during that process and the betrayal that had hit her so hard still stung now. For a moment she considers slamming the door in his face, and even makes a move to do so, but instead she opens it wider to let him in. There's no further greeting for him, instead she launches into a quick rundown of what she thinks he'd need to know, choosing to focus on the girls above everything else. “The girls crashed about thirty minutes ago, they're KO'ed on the bed. I've packed they're stuff up already so that should be you good to go." Sardonic smile was sent his way as she made it clear she expected him to be in and out, not wanting to draw out their interaction any longer than necessary. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

[frankcarlisle]

Packing up the items of his dead mother wasn't exactly how Frankie envisioned spending the days leading up to Christmas, but at the same time he didn't want to task looming over them during the first holiday without the woman. Besides, he knew that if he and Madi didn't get to it soon, their father would feel the need to do it all himself and add another burden to his already growing pile as a widow.

A small snort escaped him as his sister began to complain, part of him impressed that she'd not started whining earlier. "Yeah, it ain't Disneyland, that's for sure," the male mumbled, sorting through yet another box of Beverly's knick-knacks for what to keep and what to donate. "Hire someone to what? Go through mom's personal items and decide for us what to do with them? Believe it or not, it's quicker this way." And he didn't really want a stranger rooting through her things anyway, nor would their father. "That's 'cause he has to shop for it himself now. Don't know if you noticed, but dad can't put together a grocery list to save his life." He let out a sigh, pushing the box he was working on aside and slumping back against the wall. "Okay, okay, but I at least want to get through a few more piles before we leave." Frankie requested, pushing himself up on his feet. "There should still be some of that whiskey we had after the wake under the bar. That good enough for you, brat?"

@frankcarlisle​

Location: Carlisle Home 

It had been a hard couple of weeks for Madi. Beverly, their mother, had passed away at the beginning of Christmas, and she had been putting off packing her things away until at least after the holiday, but Frankie had convinced her into coming by today to help. It wasn’t as though her death was sudden, in fact, they had been preparing for it over the last few months. However, it didn’t mean the pain hurt any less. 

Madi only agreed to help move her things, so their father wouldn’t have to do it. It had been her day off from the studio, and she had left her son, Dean, in the hands of his father - silently praying that everything was going smoothly. “This shit blows,” Madi said with a sigh, as she slumped to the floor and tossed yet another one of her mother’s paintings in an almost full box. “Can we not hire someone to do this? Dad doesn’t even have good wine in the fridge. It’s all red. Who drinks red casually?” Her shoulders slumped out of slight annoyance. “Let’s take a break, and find something good to drink.” 

[frankcarlisle]

Frankie was no stranger to one-night stands, a habit that really peaked during the rough patch in his second marriage, where he found himself being unfaithful in order to fill the pathetic void that'd rose within him. Prior to this he'd always been a one-woman man; his first marriage had been to his college sweetheart who he'd been with his his freshman year, and even in the years between her and meeting Willa there wasn't much activity.

That being said, while he certainly wasn't as active as that very dark period in his life, he found himself ending up in Maggie's bed more often that not. They'd been friendly over the years, but aside from the sex he was confident that she wouldn't get any ideas regarding them moving forward in their little 'arrangement', which made it all the more perfect. Low-stress, no risk of word getting out, and most of all comfortable. Maggie didn't care about his past, and he didn't have to care about hers.

Eyebrows knitting together, he gave the woman a quizzical look before shaking his head. "What? Says who?" Frankie adjusted his position so that his torso was angling more towards her, head tilted to the side slightly. "That's pretty fucking dark. If the world has ended, where the hell are we? Purgatory?" He scrunched his nose then. "Actually, maybe that explains things." Like the way his life had taken such a turn -- but that'd be taking the easy way out, wouldn't it. "I never bought into conspiracy theories, though. Not even the one where Babe Ruth called that homerun or the whole 'Illuminati' bullshit." He shrugged. "You believe any of it?"

@frankcarlisle maggie's apartment, midtown village

Prior to Jane, Maggie's romantic history was more or less non-existent. She had never found someone worthy of her investment--her longest relationship had only been a year or so long, and she'd known the entire duration that it was not built to last, despite his insistence on believing otherwise and her family's encouragement to the contrary; she regularly dreaded attending weddings with him, fearful that he'd get ideas.

Now, she still held that fear--that any of her partners (she didn't deign to refer to what she was doing as remotely romantic) might believe she'd be interested in anything else. Some had asked her to dinner, to breakfast, at least, or to coffee, maybe, and each time she had gently ushered them out the door. The only one she didn't worry about, the only one she didn't rid herself of immediately, was Frankie.

"Wait, okay--did you ever hear about the conspiracy theory that Earth has actually been sucked into a black hole and the world has effectively already ended, but we have yet to realize it?" She asked entirely casually, looking up as he leaned against her headboard while she, in turn, laid flat on her back. "I was reading about it last night. People are fucking crazy."

[frankcarlisle]

“I am selfish, private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?”

— Neil Gaiman, A Study in Emerald. (via wordsnquotes)