#elektra.

Why? Because commissioning a “private” eye, as self-flattered, to tail one Matthew Murdock day and night comes with the peripheral risk of getting an eyeful of his knickers?

Adorable.

With great discipline, not a muscle on Elektra tightens. She wonders what else one dirty look can glean Jessica Jones as she licked-thumbs her way through a butter-edged wad of cash and discovers, oh, look, the tip is included.

elektra.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ but wouldn’t you be the lucky one? ”⠀⠀how absolutely expected it is for her to treat the compliment like it's someone talking about the weather. 'cute' isn't one of her routine compliments from men, but it's acceptable nonetheless. maybe it's helped by the fact that the kennedy boy himself is just too precious, too sweet* for words. painfully naive (or maybe just stupid) at times and almost downright pathetic at others, elektra finds him no different than a little puppy nipping at her heels.

i ask this one thing: let me go mad in my own way. 

i am the shape you made me. filth teaches filth.

do i not live? badly, i know. but i live. 

in times like these, self-control has no meaning. 

yes, i know sorrow. i know it quite well. 

strange. i don't think of you as a mother at all. 

vengeance is coming. 

don't you see what you're doing? you make your own pain. 

how many times can a heart break?

why are you so in love with things unbearable? 

how i pity the dark life you live. 

i've learned to side with winners. 

there is no one on earth i have hated and loved like you. 

is this the brilliant [name]? 

oh, my love, take me there. let me dwell where you are. 

i know what i am. 

death itself is not the worst.