balistrerifinley-blog

[balistrerifinley-blog]

lacunxhq‌:

    Of course she had to have one of the late night shifts again, it was actually getting really much on her nerves since she wanted to spend some time with her husband. “Can I get you another drink?” she then asked one of her costumers, while cleaning up a little big behind the bar.

Finley looked up at the woman behind the bar with slightly red eyes and nodded slowly. She pushed her empty glass toward her and then leant back slightly on the stool. “Same again. Please.” She requested quietly as she watched the woman tidy around the small area a little. “You got somewhere to be, huh?”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

AJ: ( ✉ 10:48 pm → ) a suitable definition at best.

AJ: ( ✉ 10:48 pm → ) i hope you're getting the necessary care. have you been seen yet??? my mind is running a mile a minute. were you shot???

FINLEY: ( ✉ 10:57 pm → )yeah, someone is seeing to us as best as they can.

FINLEY: ( ✉ 10:57 pm → ) no, not shot. the person i was with was though...i haven't seen them

[balistrerifinley-blog]

jacksoncclt‌:

     the face was familiar but through the foggy haze of jackson’s mind, their reaction was slow. they supposed that should’ve raised at least a flag or two, but they couldn’t quite bring themself be alarmed at it. “ hey, ” they finally answered, the word coming out in a sigh as through it were too heavy to carry.      jackson took a moment to look over finley, her injuries slightly garish, but not the worst they’d seen since that night. not by a long shot. “ yeah, sorry, i– ” mid-sentence, searching for the words to explain, they realized that any explanation would really be fruitless. everyone was coping in their own ways and ghosting was probably a common one. “ you look like shit, ” they said with a bit more energy in their voice, hoping the teasing joke would land. 

“ sit. ”

finley laughed and nodded her head. she knew she looked fucking awful. when she felt this shit there was no way she could look good on the outside. between the blood and the bruises and the dark eyes and the rather ghastly shadows of the awful night, she’d barely been able to dress herself let alone look good. but she did laugh, even if it was harsh and strained. it was genuine. and so was the look of empathy when her eyes landed on them. simply, she nodded.       slowly, she approached the closest chair and settled down into it. she suddenly felt the pain lift from her leg and her head became just a little more clear. “thank you.” she licked her cracked and sore lips. “there’s no point even asking how anyone is at the moment...”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

AJ: ( ✉ 10:10 pm → ) fck this cell reception! they won't let people leave?? shit. this can't be good.

AJ: ( ✉ 10:10 pm → ) oh??? right. i was running l8 and i guess i have my lucky stars to thank. besides the blurriness, you good??

FINLEY: ( ✉ 10:34 pm → ) well i tried to leave the medi bay shit thing and fell over. fuck. messy huh.

FINLEY: ( ✉ 10:34 pm → ) i've lost quite a bit of blood. and....no....i just feel so fucking disturbed by everything. it's all flashing in my head.

[balistrerifinley-blog]

jacksoncclt‌:

     jax thought they knew what they were getting into when they moved to valdez. it was one thing to join a gang and believe you had entered its relative safety. but these past few days shook the entire town to its core. and jax was no exception. every night since, they’d told themself that the next morning would be a fresh day and the memory would fade just a touch more. but the problem was, they weren’t sleeping, and they could still hear the gunshots as though they were still in the middle of the casino.      jackson hadn’t stopped reliving the horrific event. it was showing on their face–dark circles, deep scowling frown. their hair stood up on end haphazardly, and their gaze seemed far off, distant. they hardly heard the person in front of them when they spoke, as if though an expanse of ocean. it took jackson several moments to look up. “ what? ” they finally groaned, tone low.

everyone seemed to have been struggling. or anyone with a beating heart in a warm chest had seemed to have felt the impact. wounds were beginning to heal but the memory was still so raw that every noise had finley on edge. she’d been fucked ever since, fading in and out of consciousness as she tried to subdue the pain in her skull and leg. the skin on her head had split from her eyebrow to the middle of her crown and even though it was hidden beneath the bandage, she scratched it awfully in her waking moments, making it seep through. she’d forgone the crutches pretty quickly. as she moved around, she sniffed softly and when she saw the familiar and bedraggled face, she expelled a hard breath. jackson, her fellow runner. they were both just pawns but they’d both been there. but, they’d still been more guilty than all the poor dead civilians. “i just....” she mumbled as she folded her arms. “hadn’t seen you in a while is all.” 

[balistrerifinley-blog]

cynicbit‌:

“m’fine, finley.” danny muttered — a quick glance at the young woman catalogued injuries and issues — before he turned back to the mirror and his own problems. ( in the marines, he’d looked after the grunts. tried to be a mentor, a father figure when they needed it. sometimes even when they wanted it. the unit he’d served with had been about family. they survived because they cared; because they had each others backs. in valdez, with the savages — it was a whole other story. he didn’t have the time nor the patience to look after the babies and the soliders. he had his own fucking shit to deal with. ) “nothin’ i haven’t deal with before. trust me on that.” he wiped away another layer of blood. “you, on the other hand — should really find a fuckin’ doc to look at that busted lip.” 

finley did trust him. just the way he spoke and held himself had finley trusting his actions and words with a ridiculous amount of ease. but the insistence bothered her. because sure, even if he’d dealt with it before it didn’t mean the current pain wasn’t valid. finley had been involved in an altercation before but it didn’t mean her headache wasn’t splitting her brain open. “it’s just a busted lip, danny.” she said honestly as she raised her hand and wiped it across her mouth. “besides, half the damage is my own. been biting them something fucking terrible.” she trailed off and took a deep breath. she’d always considered herself to sometimes be too weak for the gang life. she was small in stature and definitely not imposing. she had a quick wit sometimes but half the time she just felt like a hindrance. she was just your average girl who had fallen into this life. “this was fucking obscene, danny. to state the obvious.”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

 operation-miller‌:

Erica’s cheeks pushed out as she held a breath, feeling like she was a moment away from spewing. But, the feeling passed quickly and so she let out a heavy sigh in its place. As her hand pressed against the already dressed wound, Erica grimaced in pain and muttered almost every curse word you could imagine under her breath. As Finley landed by her bedside, Erica ceased her cursing and tried to focus her eyesight– MAN it was blurry. “Hey Fin,” the operative breathed out before furrowing her eyebrows a little. Why was she injured? “Yeah– you– you’re head,” she nodded towards the gash on Fin’s forehead. “Why– were you there?” Erica muttered.

Finley lifted her hand and covered the large gash almost sheepishly. It was throbbing something terrible and when she lowered her palm there was a red stickiness across her skin. “Don’t fuss about that. Worry about yourself...” Finley said quietly as she lightly gripped at the coarse bedsheets next to Erica’s thigh. How ridiculous was this? All this fucking bloodshed and for what? People on both sides had been hurt. They had started this and now they were both here with their own wounds. “I had just finished a run and I had someone waiting to....give me something at the casino and I picked up and I stayed because the atmosphere was so good and there was booze and...” She stopped sharply and chewed her lip. “And then the place got stormed and I don’t remember after that....I don’t know what happened to my head. D-do you remember?”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

AJ: ( ✉ 8:13 pm → ) i just left the hospital. what the hell happened!?!?

AJ: ( ✉ 8:13 pm → ) i’ve only heard bits and pieces.

FINLEY: ( ✉ 9:03 pm → ) i'm still there. can't leave this place...

FINLEY: ( ✉ 9:03 pm → ) i'm still trying to put it together but it's so blurry. fucking senseless bullshit.

FINLEY: ( ✉ 9:03 pm → ) i'm glad you're alive.

[balistrerifinley-blog]

bloomedinchaos‌:

it was all a blur.

kim tried to piece together the fragments that she remembered,  but her brain couldn’t latch on to a thought long enough to form a clear picture.  there was the businessman from connecticut who she had been flirting with,  and then an explosion of pain as she toppled from her seat,  blood blooming on the floor underneath her suddenly immovable left leg.  there was a crash and another sharp note of pain,  and then she was being dragged by unseen hands,  her head colliding against something solid before everything went black.  she woke up at the hospital,  blinking owlishly at the person before her,  mouth as dry as the sahara.  ❛ i’m fine, ❜  she tried to say,  but it came out as an inaudible rasp.  kim cleared her throat,  resenting the dull ache behind her eyes,  and practically in every part of her body.  she was confused and concussioned,  but there was one question she was dying to ask.  ❛ what happened? ❜

finley couldn’t stay still. everything hurt and she wasn’t sure she fully knew the extent of her injuries yet but she was trying. restless and troubled, she’d taken to moving around, dragging the leg that was still throbbing from ankle to knee. so many familiar faces littered the clinical room. so many gunshots and stab wounds. so much hate and mindless violence. she’d only been at the casino to celebrate her downtime, join in with the atmosphere to help her forget everything else. and then it had been chaos. brain-splitting chaos. she could already feel something seeping through her head bandage but she’d get it seen to when she went back to the nurse again. for now...she let out a shaky breath as she spotted someone close by waking up. numbly, she moved toward them. maybe their face should have been familiar. or their allegiance. she didn’t care. what did it matter? “you don’t look it.” she whispered as she rested her hand on the end of the bed. “they uh...” she still wasn’t too sure herself. “someone stormed the place. everyone retaliated. people were stuck in the middle....fucking chaos. bloody and unneeded chaos.”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

 operation-miller‌:

TRIAGE BAY || OPEN FOR SAVAGES 

Four hours had passed since the big fight. During that time, Erica had no idea what had happened, who had died, who had survived, and most importantly, who had WON. Just before she had been knocked out of the fight, Snake Eyes was a table smash away from being ruins, so she thought it was a safe assumption that her side came off better, but she knew better than to rely on assumption. Coming around, FINALLY, she woke up to the ward-style set up the medics had obviously put on. Her eyes fluttered, a groan came from the back of her throat as all of a sudden the PAIN hit her. Quickly, her breathing deepened and became staggered. Then, she remembered being stabbed; couldn’t remember the face of the person behind the blade though. In the next moment, the noise of the place flooded her ears; groans and moans, the odd scream from time to time, the voices of the uninjured telling people it was fine, it was okay, they were going to be fine. Hearing her own name, Erica exhaled sharply a few times and forced her eyes completely open. They quickly shut, the light hurting her retina’s. “Who’s that?” She breathed out, curious as to who would come to HER bedside.

Finley hadn’t stopped feeling sick since the atrocious events of the night had begun. Sure, it might have something to do with the large gash to the forefront of her head but she was more than positive it came from the fucked up shit that had gone down in Snake Eyes. And now she was breathing shakily and staring at the bright lights of the treatment room that made her eyes so fucking sore. However, it was better than the alternative: not being able to see anything at all. She could hear the medics moving around, hear their frustrated and restless mumblings about how much shit was going down but she couldn’t summon up the strength to reach out to them. She couldn’t do much. She knew her body had been so fucking high when she’d been talking to nobody special at the casino and then everything had happened and suddenly it was like being equally sober but also painfully fucked up. A terrifying trip. All she remembered was the sickening smell of blood and the sight of thundering feet. Her own clothes were stained and thick with crimson. Her arm had been strapped. Her skull bandaged. Everything ached. But she could make out the shapes around her. And she moved, letting the name escape her lips before she realised it was coming. Maybe it was a relief to still be able to put names to the living. “Erica...” She said again, her throat hoarse. Maybe it was just the pure need to see someone she knew still breathing that made her leave her own bed and hobble toward the other woman. “It’s Finley. Fin....fuck. You’re still here.”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

cynicbit‌:

he’s pretty sure he’s fractured his hand — coupled with a nasty gash along his browline, several others across his forearms, & a wicked bruise across his jaw: it is safe to say that danny morrison’s looks have seen better days. and yet, there’s no mistaking the level of calm, of peace in his eyes. ( bloodshed and chaos he could handle. years of warfare and the military had taught him that. it was peace, with which he struggled most. )

“motherfucker.” danny cursed, the antiseptic wipe stinging as his ran it across the long, deep gash — trying in vain to clean it best he could. he’d probably be doing a better job if he wasn’t battling a probable concussion, blurry gaze and a dirty mirror. “that’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

blood still clogged finley’s hairline despite the fact she’d done her best to wash it out when she’d first got the chance. but the fucker kept opening and she’d given up. after what she’d experienced, she could barely consider her own injuries as bad ones. mainly because she wasn’t dead. “at least you’ll be able to feel it in the morning.” finley said quietly as she looked at the older savages member. her eyes were red and her lips were split and close to oozing with blood. she’d been so fucking high when everything had gone down. it seemed like a savage nightmare but the screaming and gunshot sounds hadn’t left her brain since. “let me help?” 

[balistrerifinley-blog]

hcneycakc‌:

“you know, you could just ask me if you wanted to stare. i don’t mind. it’s just a little weird to do it so openly, you know?” honey was rather open about her desires and needs. she also liked to be open about what other people wanted to do to her, she believed in honesty being the best policy. if somebody seemed a little too shy about something? honey would, and could, help draw it out of them. she leaned in a little closer and smiled, glittery lips shining in the light. “i’m more than happy for us to go somewhere a little more private, too, if that’s what you’re after. just, you know, don’t expect something for nothing.” 

finley completely blanched as she looked up at honey from her place in the seat. how many nights had she spent just wasting her time away in this place but the fact the woman had approached her and seemingly caught her staring made her cheeks go red. “oh uh....sorry.” she mumbled, taking a nervous sip from her drink. when honey leant in closer she let out a small noise from the back of her throat. “oh uhm....i’m literally just here between jobs. so i don’t know if i’d have time to....i like your...lipgloss.’

[balistrerifinley-blog]

screndipitv‌:

Shopping. Something Luci used to do often and now did whenever neccessary. But the recent days had Luci feeling a little like her old self. Almost… normal? That would probably never happen but this was the closest she felt to it in a long time. A few bags in one hand and a coffee in the other, Luci walked down the streets of Valdez with more pep in her step than usual.

What better day to have a little lunch at the comfort diner? Seeing a familiar face, Luciana walked over, smile wide. “Hungry? My treat.”

Finley was just pressing her cigarette out against the closest wall when she heard the familiar voice close by. As she looked up a smile spread across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but nod obligingly. “Well I didn’t expect you to be here like this but I am always hungry.” In truth, most of the time, she either had a sated appetite or she simply forgot to eat. As she stepped toward the other she observed the items in Luci’s hands. “Enjoying yourself then? Or just splurging?” 

[balistrerifinley-blog]

wcslyn‌:

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” the blonde groaned as white flurries started to fill the air. it’s not that weslyn didn’t like the snow, she just wasn’t dressed appropriately for said weather. pulling on the front of her jacket, a shiver ran down her spine as weslyn tried to make herself more warm. the snowflakes were melting as soon as they hit anything, but that only caused her to want to get inside more. the first door that she saw with an open sign hanging by it was the one she entered. the blonde found herself in sharpshooters, and a quiet sigh left her mouth. “fuck the snow.”

finley smiled at the bartender sweetly as the tall glass was set before her. she knew her head was still pounding from the night before but it was definitely one of her more mediocre hangovers so in typical fashion she had decided on forgoing the self pity and initiating the hair of the dog ethos. smiling again at the man, she turned away and took a look sip from her glass. and a familiar face caught her eye. sighing softly, she wandered toward the other and observed the droplets on her jacket and the imprint of the cold on her cheeks. “weather piss you off?” she asked as she took another sip. “strong drink will warm you up.”

[balistrerifinley-blog]

It’s me. I’m missing something. 

— Blue Is The Warmest Color (2013)

[balistrerifinley-blog]

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ seychelle gabriel + cisfemale + she/her — have you seen finley balistreri? they sure have been hanging out at sharp shooters a lot recently. they are a twenty-four year old known as the burnout, and they currently work for the savages as a runner, which they’ve been doing for two years. a bisexual taurus, they are enthusiastic + considerate, as well as destructive + self-loathing. cold fingertips, failed dreams, white lines of reassurance.

hmu or like this and i’ll come bother you! 

tw: illness, substance abuse, depression

finley balistreri thought that she was going to be someone. from a very young age she became entranced by movies and television programmes with beautiful men and women at the lead who lived out beautiful lives and picturesque events. they lived in worlds where everything went right and anyone could be enough if they tried. naturally, the reason she aspired for such a thing was because of her own home life paling in comparison. her father had left when she was a baby and her mother became ill shortly after she turned fourteen. every morning she’d wake to help her mother up and get everything she needed. in the beginning she missed countless days of school and when a new man came into her mother’s life it seemed like she’d been blessed. it was also the only reason she had the confidence and trust to leave home and try and make a better life for herself as an actress. raw talent, she told herself as she sang in the shower or recited lines from her favourite show. 

except, for finley, dreams didn’t come true. at first she landed a few roles and was even offered big opportunities but they all just seemed to fall through. she was a tiny little fish in a big city threatening to eat her alive and the lights were blinding her. she’d been struggling in los angeles for about a year when the offer of drugs truly began to become a regular part of her life. it started as a relief and then it became a habit. it screwed her morals and made her dependent on the high. she was desperate for her fix just to take away the pain of a broken childhood dream. the emptiness of failure that she continued to battle through....until she almost didn’t. one night finley headed to a bar and found herself thrown headfirst into the worst mental breakdown she’d ever experienced. that night she overdosed and almost passed away in the hospital.

luckily, she wasn’t alone. when news reached an old friend about her big city failure she offered her a second chance in a new place. her mother had gone into private housing and the two had become somewhat estranged after finley had stupidly admitted some of the choices she’d made. or maybe her mother was ashamed fin hadn’t been able to come through in the end. either way, finley left california and moved to colorado. valdez to be specific. 

for a while she stuck out a dead end job to gain money but her old habits did not die. the memories of the big city lingered with her: the failure, the harsh words and the unsavoury touches of men who had taken advantage with fake promises. it wasn’t on purpose that she became involved in drug activity and maybe it was even by accident that she found herself making unsavoury relationships with dealers from the Savages gang. it wasn’t a hard transition and the foundation for thrill was already set. so she approached them and gained her spot. now years have passed and she’s a runner for the gang. it’s a fucking fast life but it keeps her habits maintained and that’s all that really matters to her. 

finley is a sad soul. sober she’s shy and reserved, unable to think beyond the pain she feels so often. she’s always genuine and sweet but the pain is clear. she prefers her fucked up side so much more because it makes her forget and it gives her the confidence back to keep going. 

possible connections ;; 

the friend that dragged her ass out of la.

random friends/associates

friends with benefits

one night stands

the person that carries her home when she can’t walk

the person that always sorts her out with her needs

gang mates / rival gang mates

exes