Not a Murderer. An Assassin.

"The danger is I'm dangerous And I might just tear you apart" -- Kill of the Night, Gin Wigmore Elektra Natchios. That is all you need to know of me. [Closed rp account for Fallen Heroes]

[frag-men-tos]

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Dorothy - Gun in my hand 

[scarletwitchs]

matt murdock appreciaton week day two: favorite relationship (matt and elektra)

[detectivefinlee]

Pay Your Debts || Wade & Elektra || Domestic AU

He saw her almost every day on his way home from work. At first, they’d acted as strangers–no eye contact, no hellos, nothing. But after a week or two, Wade finally worked up the nerve to say hi. She was… really pretty. And there was something about her that seemed tough, like she might not take kindly to his approaching her. But hell, they lived in the same damn apartment building; he couldn’t avoid her forever. So he finally introduced himself, and found that she was a lot less scary than she first appeared.

That was a couple of months ago, and the two had formed a casual friendship. They didn’t see each other often save for the walk home from the bus stop every evening. They’d talk about their day, though Wade had a tendency to keep things vague. Truth be told, he wasn’t doing so well. He was struggling to make enough money to pay rent, let alone all the other bills he had. It was rough, and the man looked a little worse for wear, but he always wore a smile. 

At least he had his walks with Elektra to look forward to.

His breath puffed out in little white clouds in front of him as he walked beside her, the cold December air forcing him to sniff every few minutes. Ugh, he needed a warmer coat before the snow hit. 

He was just about to ask her what her dinner plans were when he heard someone behind them shout. Whipping around, he was both startled and worried to see a large, tattooed man staring directly at him.

“Oi, Wilson,” the man called, pulling a gun out of his coat, “the boss says you takin’ too long payin’ him back that money. So we worked out another way you can pay your debt.”

There wasn’t much time to react, to be honest. Before Wade could even think to move, he was deafened by the bang of the weapon.

“Fuck!”

[someones-assassin-blog]

Wade was... oddly kind. A friend, where Elektra rarely felt that she would ever have one, much less deserve one, but that was an entirely different strain of guilt. He was kind, funny in an admittedly different way- though no less entertaining for it. She enjoyed being able to talk to him, polite smiles giving way to far more genuine ones as they spoke and she got to know him better. 

He was always vague when speaking of his work, but she hardly minded- she couldn’t give away details or specifics of the cases she worked either, but it was nice to hear his perspective. She’d ruined her career as a lawyer by skipping out of college after her father’s death, but at least her own background and skills loaned themselves to being a private detective rather well when she finally came back to New York. Gave her the training to track down her father’s killer and reluctantly turn the information over to the police as a gesture of faith. She hated doing it but... 

Well, done was done. That had been years ago and Elektra was still trying to rebuild herself, figure out who she was supposed to be. To let herself relax and actually enjoy someone else’s company, for the first time in what felt like ages. Emails back and forth with Matt hardly counted as real company, same with interacting with clients only so long as was strictly necessary to complete the job. But her time with Wade was different- it felt like with him, at least, she was approaching something that might actually be just her. 

She should’ve known something would go wrong eventually. It took her far too long to react to the gun, to the threat that was targeting- Wade? What the actual fucking- Elektra stopped the thought, reacting instead on instinct drilled into her from all the sensei her father had hired over the years. Spotted the construction site nearby, abandoned for the day with cones and such with a pothole still open. She ran for it, hand closing around Wade’s wrist as she went to drag him along behind her and down into the man hole, picking a direction and running long until she was satisfied they weren’t being actively followed. 

Elektra slowed to a stop, belatedly letting go of his wrist with a grimace, “Sorry about- wait, no. I might be sorry about the vice grip around your wrist, but what the hell was that about? He was trying to shoot you!” Her composure cracked at that, years of therapy not quite enough to stop some of the old scars from resurfacing as she remembered those kidnappers in Greece trying to take her. She just reacted in the street but now her breath started coming shorter, like the walls were pressing in on her as she remembered all the blood from them shooting her dog. Screaming, so much screaming- couldn’t afford a breakdown now, so she tried to shove the memories back. “I- I can’t- what happened, Wade?” 

[someones-assassin-blog]

Grrr, Arrgh || Sam & Elektra || Zombie AU

It was a year after the virus started spreading. The typical story, something that shouldn’t have really been a surprise after all the science fiction stories predicting a zombie apocalypse but somehow still managed to be. Elektra didn’t particularly care about the particulars, if she was being honest- she’d heard a million different stories about how it started from survivors and didn’t care what was real. It was speculation, didn’t matter in the face of things.

What mattered were the bodies that wouldn’t die from a simple stab. What mattered was living day to day- switching her primary weapons to katanas simply so it was easier to slash rather than stab, getting enough supplies, continually moving. What mattered was stopping anyone from being about to stop her and killing as many zombies as she could manage. Fellow survivors didn’t interest her beyond the occasional trade for supplies before wandering off again, relishing the new world in a way she probably shouldn’t have. 

There was no small part of Elektra that enjoyed it. Here, the enemies were more clear. Heroes were something that was practically a foreign concept, restricted to small settlements and refuges that she avoided with a passion. People were avoidable, always choosing to make an exception only when she actually was moved to do so. This world was driven by individual survival and that- that was something she was always so good at. It was almost relaxing, really. 

Elektra was moving a little too close to one of the refuges for her own comfort at the moment, but she had no choice in the matter- New York still had supplies buried in it. She was low on food, needed more, so she navigated the ravaged streets to try and find something that might’ve been missed- some apartment building, some shop, something that might be useful. Instead she managed to find a damned nest. 

Cursing angrily in Greek, she streaked back towards the streets for a more open fighting area while zombies chased hot on her heels. She managed to stumble out, almost landing straight on her face as one yanked her ankle and brought her down. Elektra snarled, sweeping out with the katanas as she tried to regain her balance and count how many she’d managed to attract in her stumbling... the numbers weren’t good, especially when she’d been sleeping only the barest amount while in enemy territory. She adjusted her grip on the weapons, accepting it might be her last fight with surprising grace- it was no more than energy being transferred, so why bother fighting the inevitable? It’s not like she expected to survive past Bullseye anyway, so this was all just an extension as it was. No great loss-

At least until she heard someone else behind her. Elektra snarled, calling a quick, “Leave! Not your fight,” over her shoulder before spinning into action. 

[gatheringbones]

People who have monsters recognize each other. They know each other without even saying a word.

Benjamin Sáenz, Last Night I Sang To The Monster (via indxstress)

[colleenwing]

matt murdock appreciaton week day two: favorite relationship: matt/elektra    

[mikebukowski]

Visit Original Link

The Oh Hello’s - Hello My Old Heart

Hello my old heart How have you been? How is it being locked away? Don’t you worry, in there you’re safe And it’s true, you’ll never beat, but you’ll never break

[sprightlysylph-blog]

Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt.

(via maevetrevelyan)

[someones-assassin-blog]

Have you ever forgotten important dates like your partner's birthday or your anniversary?

I do not forget such things, even when they are no longer relevant to celebrate. But I never forget. 

[notahammer]

I see nothing of my mother in my face. She died the day I was born. She has never been anything more than photographs hanging on a wall. But my father’s face is carved into my memory. I see him everywhere I look. Except in the mirror. Instead, I see only reflections that belong to someone else.

[kick-drumheart-blog]

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Well this road I’m on’s gonna turn to sand And leave me lost in a far-off land So let me ride the wind ‘till I don’t look back And forget the life that I almost had

Peter Bradley Adams - The Longer I Run

[someones-assassin-blog]

☕: my muse comforting yours after the death of a loved one (FROM ESTHER :D)

She couldn’t bring herself to lurk at the edges of yet another funeral. Told herself she’d buried him long ago, that this shouldn’t devastate her as it did. But it was a lie, empty, something that echoed in the hollowness of her mind and chest. That sharpened the ache, knowing her love, her heart, what little of it had been left was gone. Dead and buried, like her father had been. Like her mother, like any humanity she had left. What was left when there was nothing? When the hopes and dreams had been clipped away, all the love in a person lost? What was left when all there was, was blood on her hands and that ache in her chest? 

Elektra bolted, looking up at the dark figures as the casket was lowered into the ground, unwilling to stay a moment longer. Funerals meant nothing, all the she cared about was already gone. Her own tombstone was somewhere here as well, something she hurtled over in her escape. Didn’t want to think about it, about the proximity of where she had been buried by him to where he was now. Where that husk of him was. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to rage. Wanted, more than anything, to tear someone apart with her bare hands and feel some of the emptiness sated. 

He would be so disappointed in her. Father, mother, brother, lover- no one to care, no one to forgive her, immortalized in her failure to save any of them. Immortal in their disappointment, forever failing to live up to what any of them hoped for her. She kept running until she fell, slipping on ice and landing hard. The cry bit off as blood filled her mouth, teeth biting into her tongue. 

It was pure luck- good or bad? She didn’t know, wasn’t sure, but it was something that a familiar voice sounded near her. Fussing, worried, caring in a way that was so long lost to her it was almost foreign. Elektra would have smiled at it once, but the curve of her lips was far from an actual smile even as it went through the motions. Ruined almost instantly as she turned her head to spit out the blood, waving off the concern.

Couldn’t find anything to say as she got up and her arm was taken, Esther leading her off even as she shook her head. She let the words wash over her, closing her eyes as she tried to cling to the concern there. Tried to use it as an excuse to remember there might be a reason to stop running. To not simply allow herself to fall into that gaping hole of herself again, that emptiness. 

Esther led her somewhere, Elektra didn’t even think to process where as she followed blindly. The most trust she’d shown anyone in years, perhaps, or perhaps it was simply too much work to actually object. Allowed herself to be guided to a seat, a mug handed to her. Didn’t even realize how hard it’d become to flex her fingers until the mug’s heat almost felt like it burned. She curled her fingers more closely around it, enjoying the feeling, that she could feel something. 

She was asking what was wrong and her throat closed up again almost instantly. The mug shattered in her hands without even thinking about it and Elektra only stared as her blood mixed in with the tea. 

“He’s gone.” Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, drawing Esther’s attention from where she was wrapping the cuts in gauze. “He’s gone.” 

Her world narrowed to feeling arms around her, hugging her close, as a voice who cared tried to soothe her while Elektra finally cried. 

[unleash-the-falcon]

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Absolutely. 

[unleash-the-falcon]

[pm] You can ensure that they won’t hurt anyone else peacefully, too. Prisons exist for that reason. If they don’t give you that option, though, there’s not much else to do. Vengeance isn’t really the right answer, though. I understand where it comes from, trust me, but if you’re looking for revenge, you’re usually not worried about who’s getting hurt along the way.

A moral compass can be hard to find these days. It’s hard to know who to trust when no one is who they say they are. A lot of people respond to that by not trusting anyone, and I get that. I do. But not trusting anyone is depressing as hell. Me, I like to trust people until they give me a reason not to. I won’t say it hasn’t gotten me into trouble, but it’s also gained me some of the best friends I’ve ever had.

Other people. I surround myself with good people, people whose opinions I value, and when I find myself asking those questions, I go to them. They don’t always have the answers, can’t always tell me what to do, but they can give advice. And when I can’t talk to them, I think of what they would do in my situation. What choice they’d make. It’s not as cut-and-dry as my dad’s religion was for him, but I don’t necessarily think these things should be entirely black and white. The real world’s got a lot of gray, and that can make it hard to navigate.

[someones-assassin-blog]

[pm] Prisons are not always as effective as they could be. Not anymore, not with the sort of people they’re expected to contain. If “people” is even the correct term, considering some. I- I am more aware of that than most. There is a cost to vengeance and others have paid it on my behalf. And I paid for it myself. I would do it again, too. No one’s left to pay for it on my behalf anymore, so what’s the point of holding back? Not like I care about paying it myself again, I’m already on borrowed time. 

Trusting people is depressing in its own right. I’ve lost enough to know that much. I respect that you can manage to make that choice again, but- I don’t know. I’ll consider it. 

The world is entirely grey, in my experience. But I have never had many people to rely on. It must be nice, to have others you respect and can speak to like that. 

[samanthashford]

The fact that anyone has the intention of actually fulfilling that particular biological function is astounding to me, and yet here we are–an overpopulated society. Praise be to those amazing women who actually enjoy having their organs crushed. 

Was that a commentary on the state of our shady nation? Because I like it. I see a new mask every time I turn on the TV. 

The alcohol is the most important part. It makes everyone look better, the dances feel funner, and the music less shitty. What i’m saying is that life can actually be enjoyable in small doses. 

[someones-assassin-blog]

It was and I do as well. It’s almost getting difficult to tell them apart. I notice you used masks, not superheroes to refer to them- I presume the choice was intentionally made? If so, I appreciate the distinction. I think “hero” is a term too easily used these days. 

Ah, that’s something I’m still attempting to relearn. Progress is a bit... slow, most days. 

[mattelektras]

so who’s gonna watch you die?

[never-willbe-normal]

I’m basically Public Enemy Number One, apart from perhaps Magneto. In the name of gender equality, I’m gonna call that one a draw.

[someones-assassin-blog]

Really? Interesting.

What’s the fun of being a public enemy, anyway? Seems like it’d be far more practical to be a private enemy. Better to not let them see your face, to barely know you exist beyond a reputation, a name. 

[someones-assassin-blog]

☔

☔: my muses reaction to opening their front door and seeing yours drenched in rain

Storms were always gorgeous things. And damned useful, for that matter- especially if they were strong enough to take out the power. Even if they didn’t, the thunder was often enough to mask noises for her, made some jobs much easier. Less likely to attract outside attention and send someone to interfere. Not that she had a job that night in particular, but Elektra had the thought drifting around her mind as she watched the clouds move in. No, no contracts tonight. Wasn’t in the mood, finding motivation to take on jobs was... difficult, these days. Too many memories chasing her on these streets, made it hard to concentrate and trust herself to actually live up to her own standards. 

Instead, it was a night in. Adding a bit more information to her files from the newspapers, collecting bits and pieces to try and get a feel for the players in this city. Who to be wary of, weaknesses, strengths, possible strategies. It was almost a parody of studying in college, papers strewn around her as she made notes in Greek and Japanese depending on content. Some things being stuck on the wall in a haphazard mix of text and photos while others were filed away, kept only as a reference. A coffee cup that kept being refilled endlessly as she worked, music playing along to help her concentrate on the task at hand. 

Most would have missed the noises outside her door. Footsteps in the rain, oddly dragging. Tired? And yet stopping, but no knock. Not that she suspected anyone to visit her- no one should know where she lived. She certainly hadn’t told, disliked to ever give out where she was staying. Old paranoia and habit, a distaste for allowing others into her life in even the smallest ways. 

And yet she found herself getting up, warily eyeing the door as she crept towards it. Habit kept her footsteps imperceptibly quiet, skulking in her own home to try and see who’d arrived. Loath as she was to do it, Elektra reached out her own mind, searching for anyone else who had her training. Not of the Hand or of the Chaste then, which left... Who, exactly? She hesitated, curiosity more than anything else finally driving her into action, turning the knob. 

She recognized him from the pictures online, though he was far more... wet, now. Elektra raised an eyebrow as she swept her eyes over him, curiosity plain in her eyes but quietly leashed. “You know, I do not think I ever gave you my name. I am Elektra.” Another beat of silence before a tentative smile curled her lips upwards and she opened the door. She was trying to figure out the difference between surviving and living, was she not? This was a gamble, yes, but perhaps that’s what living was made of. “Please, you look like you could use some dry clothes and warmth. You are welcome here.”