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The Devil asked me how I knew my way around the halls of hell. I told him I did not need a map for the darkness I know so well.

(via lasheeda)

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liam--evans:

February 25.

It went without saying that it was Liam’s birthday, and that he was more than grateful to be reaching the age of 31 whilst still being a free man. Every birthday since he began the age of 21, wherein he was free, became more and more precious to him. Logic would dictate that he be thrown in prison, paying for the numerous cyber crimes he had done for the past 10 years of his life. And yet, thanks to his own determination, cunning, skills, and right decisions, here he was, living and breathing to celebrate his birthday far from prison bars. But this year was admittedly sadder, considering the fact that he was to celebrate it alone. Save for the fact that his family videochatted with him the first thing in the morning, no one else had greeted him. But could they blame them, when he knew that everyone had their hands full with their own issues. Still, it stung a little.

Liam had set his mind to celebrating his special day in silence, when an unexpected guest drop by his office. And though he wasn’t close with said visitor, he knew enough about her. “Bribed? Perhaps not. But with food? Definitely.” Giving her a meager smile, he ushered her in, gesturing that she enter his office without caution. Reclining on his plush Executive chair, he wondered what brought Elektra at such an early time to his department. At her question of being the first, he smiled at the ground, particularly embarrassed to say that yes, out of everyone in the Hearts, out of all the people whom he had cared for, she, someone he was not entirely close to, was the first. “Yes you are, Ms. Cassady.” When she placed down the cupcake at his desk, Liam sat up almost immediately, surprised by the treat. He could not believe it, that such a simple gesture moved him to his core. It was usually just him at home with his birthday candle, if the past years were any indication. “So do I blow it out now?” he inquired, looking up to her with genuine eyes. Without even waiting for her, he closed his eyes, made a little mental wish, and blew it out. What could he say? He was beyond excited, almost child-like, at the gift presented to him. “Yes, the bribe is working perfectly.” Pulling out the candle from the cupcake, he sucked on the frosting-dipped end, licking it clean in a second, before tossing it in the trash bin just underneath his desk. It was a strange opener, her words, but given that his curiosity could easily be piqued, Liam tuned in, nodding at her last bit mentioning geniuses. “Well,” he began, slightly unsure of what more he could offer if she had geniuses already working for her, “I’m nowhere near genius level but I do have a specialised set of skills that not everyone has. I’ll be more than happy to help.” Sitting up properly on his chair, he directed her full attention towards her, settling in to be blown away by her request. “What is it?”

“May I?”, Elektra gestured towards one of the empty chairs once she had made sure the door was closed behind her, shut with a light click, and it was certain they could not be overheard. Not that what she wanted to talk to him about was all that confidential, safe for being illegal, of course, but they were sitting in a gang HQ after all, and crime was not something that surprised her anymore. “I can’t deduce if it’s a bad or a good thing.”, she let out a soft chuckle as she sat down, crossing her legs at the ankles and offering an apologetic smile when she noticed the embarrassment in the way he looked down, “In all fairness, I’m usually here before anyone else, so there’s no need to be embarrassed. Besides…”, she lowered her voice, as if she were saying something of great secrecy, “I’m very competitive by nature, so I definitely got a kick out of being here first. Sorry?” It was only half a joke, because if anything, El was competitive to the core, but right now she said it lightly and huffed a little laugh in hopes of making him feel more relaxed with her sudden presence – she hadn’t meant to barge in like this, and if she had had the time she would’ve probably handled this a lot more delicately. However, when he referred to her as ‘Ms. Cassady’ Elektra’s eyes shot up from the cupcake, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Ms. Cassady? Oh just Dr. Cassady will do.”, but she only managed to keep a straight face for a split second before she broke out in a smile, waving her hand dismissively at the very thought, “Please. No one calls me that. How about I call you Liam, and you call me Elektra, and we don’t bother with the whole… official-name-calling thing. I think we’re past that, I did just bribe you.”  

She fell silent for a moment, then – the smile tugging at the corners of her lips entirely out of her control as she watched Liam go about blowing out the candle with something that could only be genuine, child-like delight in his eyes. Truth be told, it was far more than she had expected out of his reaction. Surprise and a bit of gratitude, sure – but delight? “Well then, I’m glad it is.”, her voice still bore traces of a smile as she spoke, “There’s more where that cupcake came from, just so you know. My mother had too much Chardonnay and suggested we make another batch while we were at it, and that was at 2AM, hence the copious amounts of coffee I’ve drank already.” But it had been a while since her mother wanted to do anything at all, and Elektra thought it entirely worth it to stay up all night with her, just to see her smile. But the chuckle that left her lips at the memory, soon faded away, and Elektra straightened up in her chair, aware that they had come to the point in their conversation where it was time to talk business. “You don’t have to worry.”, she said, having caught onto the underlining reluctance in his voice, “I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t think you were capable.” After all, if anyone was familiar with people whose IQs were well above average, it was El, and as much as she loved the brilliance of their minds, she knew very well that brilliance came hand in hand with ego, and arrogance. “I’ve meet a genius or two back in college. Hell, I married one. And if there’s one thing they all have in common…”, a smile quivered in the corners of her lips, “It’s arrogance. They will overlook the simple things because they’re far more caught up in come elaborate game that is supposed to show the rest how superior they are. I need someone who has experience, and I’ve seen you work.” She stopped speaking then, and for the first time since she started talking, her eyes fell down to her hands as she leaned back into her chair and took a deep breath. “Look. I know you don’t know me, so there’s no reason to trust or help me - but… I need you to be discreet about this. I inherited a company, just last year. My brother was supposed to lead it after our father’s death but thing’s got… complicated.”, her words were carefully picked, delicately delivered, and she smiled nervously before continuing, “The board of directors wants me gone from the CEO position. Of course they do, I am a woman after all, and they’re all men over 60 who don’t like changes. I’m fighting it, and the good thing is that the techs and the engineers and the scientists are loyal to me, not them - but there is someone I’m worried about.” Her lips were set into a thin, somber line, and her eyes narrowed slightly at the very thought of betrayal. “As a scientist, I’m repulsed by the very idea of someone using our prototypes and designs for… violence and war, but as a CEO I have to consider everything and take steps to prevent it. Now… there were some strange movements of large sums of money that the finance guys caught on recently, but we need tangible proof. I need something to get into the guy’s computer, the one I think is selling the information and designs to an organisation. I need to get past the security on his personal computer, and I wanted to ask if… you could design a spyware that could do just that. Give us access to and control of his computer.” Quickly after finishing, and with a look of understanding across her features, she added, “Please don’t feel obliged to do it if you’re uncomfortable with how delicate the thing is, I just… there’s no one inside that company I can trust at this point.”

Cupcakes and Spywares | Liam&Elektra

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*; ★.:｡—  character aesthetics ;; the scripturient.

( having a consuming passion and desire to write. )

nobody hates writers more than writers do. the most vicious and contemptuous portraits of writers, both as individuals and as types, appear in books written by writers themselves. nobody loves them more, either. megalomania and paranoia share the writer’s mirror. the writer-as-faust looks into it and sees a grandiose and evil and superhuman mephistopheles, master of magic, controller of destinies, to whom other human beings are as puppets whose strings he controls, or as fools whose hearts and deepest secrets he holds in the palm of his hand; the writer-as-mephistopheles looks into the same mirror and sees a shivering and pathetic faust, longing for eternal youth and terrific sex and untold riches, and clutching desperately to the pitifully delusional belief that he can conjure up these things through the miserable scribbling, the puerile fooling around with words, that he has the overweening nerve to call “art”.

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@carmxnmoore

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Cupcakes and Spywares | Liam&Elektra

Even though James was the only person she’d want by her side when standing before the grim-looking board of directors, each one hell bent on disputing her position as the CEO, there was not much he could do when it came to anyone who resided below the 21st floor. Hell, the scientists and the nerds and the techs were supposed to be her kind of crowd, and she couldn’t do anything either, at least not when it came to certain individuals. But the thing was, with that little team of theirs that regularly spent time in James’ office, whenever one of them would come short of ideas, another would offer some brilliant solution, and Elektra decided to trust the brilliance of Carmen’s solution that morning when she walked briskly towards part of the HQ where the techs could be found. 

She knew Liam only superficially, but then again, she knew everyone in the gang one way or the other, had come in contact with them whenever there was a new mission to plan and carry out. The difference was, between James and her, that she always took it a step further, and whatever he had documented in the files on his computer or in the file cabinet, on each member of the gang, she had memorised and tucked away neatly in some corner of her mind, with additional notes on their behaviour. So that was the reason why she didn’t come to his office empty-handed that morning, though she did feel bad for ganging up on the poor guy when he was supposed to be relaxing that day. The door was slightly ajar when she knocked. Three times, softly. And even then she only peeked in from behind the door, head tilted slightly and an apologetic smile on her lips. “Hey, is this a bad time?”, and then with something that could only be faux-caution drenched in amusement, “Actually, I want to change my question. Can you be bribed? With food?” It sounded almost ridiculous, to barge in with strange inquiries like this to a coworker that Elektra barely knew, but that was just a part of who she was, and it was better to take someone with Liam’s personality, by surprise and charm her way into having their attention, than come here all cutthroat professional like with James.  “So...”, she she started vaguely, getting into the room and closing the door behind herself, one hand still conspicuously placed behind her back. “Am I the first?” It was still early in the morning, though El had been at work since dawn due to her non-existent sleeping schedule, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if her revealing the cupcake she had been holding behind her back was the first one that day. “It’s Oreo. I finally gave in to a friend’s pleads to try and make this kind - let’s just hope it’s edible.”, she huffed a little laugh as she placed the cupcake on the desk in front of him, the single candle already having been lit before she came in. “Happy birthday.” Realising that through the whole thing she not once explained why the hell she was even here in the first place, Elektra leaned her hip against the edge of the desk, arms crossed and her voice playfully repentant, “Please tell me the bribe is working? Because I have flattery as a back-up plan if you’d prefer it? Listen, I’m really sorry to barge in randomly like this, but... Carmen said you could help.” She also said he could be trusted, and Carmen’s word was enough for Elektra to come here. “How brilliant are you? Because I need someone more brilliant than the geniuses working for me.”

@liam--evans

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littlestdiamond:

The new year had brought a lot of changes this year. One of them being an almost clean cut from the world her parents had brought her up in. By moving across town, by not having contact with them, by spending all her free time with Juda, Whitney had had a clean break from high society. No more events, fundraisers and parties. No more fancy dinners or callas. Actually she hadn’t worn anything fancy or high end in.. months. Which had resulted in a major fashion crisis when she had agreed to meet Elektra for coffee. Was she supposed to dress up? If she didn’t, wouldn’t that be awkward? Or raise a ton of questions? The only place Whitney found herself dressing up for, but in a great deal of moderation, was work. Her wardrobe had changed, and yet she had tried to add subtle accessories so that it would not be frowned upon. High heels or boots, some subtle and easy wearing jewelry. But the second she was off, she left Manhattan. She’d even started meeting her friends in Brooklyn, arguing that they didn’t know how great it was there. Well, unless they like Carmen or Jeb was already familiar with living over the bridge. After half an hour spent dragging out her entire bag, which hardly fit beneath the bed anymore, she decided that screw it, she would just put on a frilly dress and tights, to go with her  brown leather boots, and it would be fine. Taking one of the busses uptown, Whitney felt rather content. No her life was not perfect, not free of complications, but of late t had been pretty great. Setting aside her cold war with her mother and worried though infrequent calls from her father, the newly turned twenty one year old was coming into her own. Starting to feel as if she knew who she was, where she was going, what life might have to offer. Unlike before she didn’t find herself scared and alone. She had plenty of people who supported her even if her parents wouldn’t, and who understood why she was making certain choices for herself. Having that, the understanding, the unyielding support, allowed her to grow and thrive, feel less incompetent, less like a weakness and a target. Jumping off the bus, she walked the last few blocks to the cafe, a light smile grazing her lips as her gaze fell on the familiar shape of Elektra. It was no surprise that she was excited and near chipper, as always. Hugging her friend back Whit smiled politely at the older woman. “Hi! Its nice to meet you Mrs Cassidy.” She shook her hand with a firm grasp, unable not to smile and give nod along as she of course knew her parents and was pleased to met the youngest Diamond in the bunch. The fact that there was little contact involved between parents and daughter was of course nothing that needed to be shared, and she simply played along as best she could, though it did demand she mind her manners and language a bit more carefully. It felt a tad unnatural to speak the way the upper class spoke about their families. Painting a rose red picture and bragging of the smallest of accomplishments. Not that Whitney was, or that Mrs Cassidy was asking her to, but that was usually how the conversation went. When it was time for Elektra’s mom to depart, she waved, her eyes then returning to her friend. «She’s such a sweetheart. And you talk like her, its like you guys are emulating one another. She seems really great Elektra, it was nice to finally meet her.» Whitney nodded a bit as she talked, her tone warm. Briefly her thoughts were turned to her own mother, and the hurt and frustration that kept brewing between them. She quickly shoved the feelings away though, not wanting to dwell on them. Not now. Returning to the living, Whit quickly glanced around them, her mind set on the task of finding a place immediately. “Uhm, I don’t really have any preferences you know but we could do Italian? Some pasta?” She suggested, her smile widening at Elektra’s admittance. When was she not up at 5 am? A small blush appeared automatically at the compliment and the insinuation. Whitney had no poker face, was very bad at any type of concealment, and Elektra was incredibly perceptive. Meaning there really was no use trying to hide or not disclose how she was doing. A part of her was actually pretty excited to tell. Yet she still had to be careful. Walls had ears. “Thank you, uhh its from this little thrift store in Brooklyn. I moved there around Christmas and its just been really good getting a change of scenery and being a bit on my own, away from the upper east side scene. So no, you’re not wrong. But you have to tell me how you’ve been too! How did christmas and New years go?”

Elektra’s mother was far from anonymous in the upper-class scene of the New York. Sure, people knew her father, and they knew the surname and the company that was named after it – but it wasn’t what made her mother who she was. A soft-spoken, graceful woman with a heart of gold, Celia started from scratch and built herself into the woman she was today, not once letting her husband’s name or family wealth affect who she was and how she was defined. Perhaps if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have been able to handle the pressure the elitist world of New York’s finest put on anyone who wasn’t exactly like them – but Celia was the kind of woman whom even the most bitter members of society couldn’t really dislike, and she not once tried to hide her origin, but rather wore it gracefully as a proof that one didn’t have to be born in this world to be a part of it. Celia saw people, not family names or bank account numbers, and when she greeted Whitney she was greeting Elektra’s friend, regardless of what her surname happened to be, and Elektra wondered if that’s where everything she was today stemmed from – her mother’s empathy, her unrelenting desire to help and a fondness for people. “She is, isn’t she?”, Elektra said distractedly, eyes on the elegant black town car until it tuned corner and she finally looked at Whitney, “I do? Huh.” But the manner in which El voiced the thought could only mean that she was very much aware of it, and it was very much intentional, even though over the years it had become a habit. “Well, I shall take that as a compliment. I learned everything from her. I mean my father was a great man, very caring, and there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t have done for us. But when they first took me in I sort of stuck to her side all the time, especially the first few months – she has that warm aura about her that not even I can rationalise or explain. But I guess some things aren’t really explicable with cold hard science, no matter how empirical I love being.” It sounded innocent enough, this explanation, but El knew that it wasn’t just about a daughter worshipping her new mother – after she was rescued from that damned place, El was left without identity. She used to be a number in the system, irrelevant, disposable – but Celia was the one who gave her identity, told her she was irreplaceable, and this was the very foundation of her being – kindness, and love. Elektra moved to interlock her arm with Whitney’s and led her down the street in the vague direction of the restaurant she had in mind. It was a beautiful day, relatively warm and with winter sun pale and high up in the sky, “You know she’s a journalist, right? That’s what she was when she met my dad. When I was a kid, fourteen, fifteen maybe, I really wanted to pursue a career in journalism.”, a smile played in the corners of El’s lips, thoughtful and almost child-like – for a moment she could stop being Elektra the strategist or Elektra the CEO and just be a 26-year-old girl talking about silly childhood dreams, “At one point, I was in so many clubs I was forced to drop out of some – book club, drama club, school newspapers… But I figured after a while that journalism wasn’t really my thing, I liked fiction, and oh I loved Hellenic works, but I needed something that was challenging, you know? I feel like people are the only thing I’ve ever wanted to study.” It was easy talking to Whitney like this, and even when she was technically still in therapy, El would interrupt the sessions with little chit chats to put her at ease, let her know that her intentions were always to help, best she could, and that she was more than just a case file to her. “Italian it shall be. There is a Tuscany-esque restaurant just a block away – mom went there with her girlfriends just last week, she said it makes you feel like you’re there.”, she smirked then, nudging Whitney gently with her eyebrow raised teasingly, “And the wine’s amazing, though as far as I know, you’re not legal?” The blush that coloured Whitney’s cheek didn’t go unnoticed by Elektra, nothing ever did, but her only comment was a knowing smile as she innocently looked around at the shop windows of high-end stores they strolled by. “Well, even though my whole career revolves around making people feel less uncomfortable, I’m going to have to break the rule here to do my duty as a friend and ask if by any chance, that blush and that pretty new necklace might be connected with someone?” And even though El gave her a side look and her lips slanted slightly in a knowing smirk (because she was more than familiar with those kind of blushes), she was quick to pat Whit’s hand and reassure her, “Don’t worry, I’m only joking. I know how sweet it is to keep a veil of mystery around that sort of thing. But I do demand you take me to see that thrift store one day. I need some bohemian-looking pieces, the whole ‘clean-cut business’ thing is getting kind of repetitive and boring at this point.” They had been walking for a while, and Elektra steered Whitney around the corner where the tall glass doors stood that would lead them inside and into the little restaurant, rustically Italian but with a modern, elegant twist. “You know that’s quite a bombshell you dropped on me right there.”, Elektra huffed a little laugh, as she shrugged off the red raincoat she had been wearing and headed for the small, sweet table in the corner that was situated near a pastel-pink Vespa. “Oh god, I’ve always wanted one of these.”, her voice attained an excited, youthful note as she ran her fingers over the soft, worn leather of the seat and her eyes were almost dreamy when she looked back at Whitney, “Wouldn’t it be nice, to just go to Florence and live in a little apartment in the city centre and just admire beauty all day? Sorry. I interrupted you.”, she smiled apologetically, resuming her seat and arranging her hands on the table before she leaned in, an excited glint in her green eyes, “So. Upper East side just lost one of its prettiest girls, it’s taken a pretty big hit. But Brooklyn’s doing well. How’s it treating you? Where are you staying? I’ll tell you about my Christmas later, and an army of crazy European cousins, but I feel like I’ve fallen out of the loop with you in the past few months, and obviously you feel good – so it must be great. Do tell.”

Lunch Date | Whitney&Elektra

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amyxfhearts:

After David’s release, Amy decided she needed to go away for a bit. The amount of emotions she was feeling quite frankly weirded her out. It was far easier, she decided, to be disconnected from the world. That didn’t mean, however, that she planned to let the Diamonds get away with attacking her family. But a week off was definitely required. Walking back into HQ, Amy grinned, feeling at ease.

“It’s funny how a week feels like a second and forever at the same time. Miss me?”

It seemed that regardless of what was going on within the gang, whether it was peaceful or a war zone, the Strategy would always end up buried in some kind of paperwork - assassins, spies, recons, James and Elektra had to take every little detail reported back to them, into consideration and make sense of it. But James was off doing something with Liz, and El had shooed Carmen away to go feed herself about half an hour ago, and so when Amy walked in, Elektra was in the process of balancing a stack of papers and a mug of strong black coffee on her way from the kitchen. “Amy. You’re back!”, a smile found its way to Elektra’s lips, glad to see the younger Hartwell sibling back in the HQ, “Of course we missed you. James told me you needed a break. You look really good, so I’m guessing the plan worked?” Amy left around the same time Carmen came back, after David was released, and it seemed like they weren’t the only ones who needed a break from the gang - something El definitely approved of, both as a friend and as a psychiatrist. “Hey if you’re looking for James, he isn’t here - I think he had some Hartwell business to do. But I can offer you coffee and an update about what’s been going on if you’d like? I just have to sort through these field reports.”

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elijahxthomas:

This had been his life for over a decade, the visual scanning of books neatly placed beside one another. He found it amazing how perfectly they slotted together, despite the stories they held being so drastically different. No book was like another, so you couldn’t read one and say you’d read a similar one purely because they were based in the same universe, or the same genre. In fact Elijah found it a crime to imply you’d read a book if you’d only read one similar. That wasn’t how books worked, and Elijah loved that there was no corners to be cut when it came to books. Startled slightly by her reaction, Elijah instinctively took a step back to allow space. Having no intention at all to surprise anyone, he rocked back and forth on his feet for a moment, offering a small smile once she turned to him. “No, i’m sorry. I should announce myself first.” he replied, with a light nod. Very much relating to her next comment, he let out a small chuckle under his breath. “Yeah, I understand that. Totally takes over your mind, deeming reality irrelevant in the face of good literature. I think i’d probably get slaughtered fairly fast in a library myself” he confessed, being surprisingly okay with the idea. He spent his life around books, constantly finding himself in a tailspin of thoughts and questions about the stories they possessed. He probably thought more about the lives in a book than he did his own. Then again that was always the aim, ever since he was a young boy. “Uh yeah, I did. And I most certainly intend to just leave them here for anyone to have. So by all means, if you see anything that catches your eye, it’s all yours” he smiled softly, getting an idea that he may be in the presence of a fellow bookworm. He’d made sure to put a good mix inside each crate, some old, some new, something from every genre far and wide. Giving not only books, but the freedom of choice in what one wanted to read. “Nice to meet you Elektra. I’m Elijah” he replied, taking her outstretched hand in his own and giving it a friendly but firm shake. Before he released it once more, bringing his hands back into his pockets. “Some of his best work if you ask me, worth every page. I do recall packing a copy into one of these crates though” he said, his nimble fingers finding the spines of the books in the crate behind him, eyes searching for the book while also actively listening to her. “You collect several editions too? I always thought that was just a weird habit I had. People come around and ask why I have several copies of the same book, and it’s a bit of a hard one to explain” he related, finding Point Counter Point in the time he’d spoke, pulling it from the crate, he extended it out to her. “This is a 90ies copy of Point Counter Point. As for an older edition of Huxley’s island, i’m fairly sure I have one at my store. I have a 90ies edition of all of Huxley’s work, and some selective older pieces, which I think includes Island.”

Whatever annoyance had curled in the pit of her stomach due to the bigoted board of directors that made her life a living hell back at CassCorp, was now long forgotten as Elektra found herself in an unexpected presence of books and a fellow bookworm. “Oh god. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”, she said quickly, when the man before her took a step back, seemingly equally startled by her reaction, and an apologetic smile found its way to her lips, “Okay, that was awfully awkward.”, she chuckled, already familiar with the awkwardness that came with her reacting this way whenever someone was behind her back, “Really, it’s not your fault, I’m just jumpy today. Entirely my fault, I think that... sixth cup of coffee is finally getting to me.” But by the time she managed to apologise, and not without an array of hand gestures, her shoulders had relaxed again, and that initial rush of adrenaline had ebbed away and left her to cross her arms and shake her head at how ridiculous this meeting must have looked to anyone else. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Elijah.  Uh, you have a nice name, you know. It’s very old.”, her words came to a halt for a second, a conscious effort put into stopping herself from blurting out some irrelevant piece of information that would probably scare the poor man. It was one of those things that she still couldn’t entirely put under control, even after all these years, even though she knew how much her memory would sometimes creep people out. “A confession.”, she said instead, with a look as if she were about to reveal some sort of conspiracy instead of make a joke, “I totally got locked into a library once. I was sitting by a bookshelf so the janitor didn’t see me, and I was so engrossed that I only noticed I was locked in when it was well midnight. So that tells you a lot about how detached I am from the outside world when reading.”, she shook her head at the memory, letting out a chuckle under her breath, “But good to know there’s more of us. And besides, if I die - I totally want to go surrounded by books.” After all, books were one of those few things that made sense when she first came to New York - people didn’t, the noise didn’t, the city itself didn’t - but books did, and Elektra found her heart would beat faster every time she thought of how many different worlds and characters hid between the pages that she had a chance to discover now that she was finally free.

She had just turned to run tips of her fingers along a few spines, soothed by the soft, bent spines and the sight of names so familiar she considered them almost friends, when she turned to look at Elijah again, bemused smile on her lips, “Oh my god, you’re actually serious. This is brilliant.”, one could tell just by the modulation of her voice, just how impressed Elektra was by the notion, her features attaining that look a child might get when presented with something new and shiny. She pulled out a copy of The Great Gatsby and stroked the front cover, “You know what - I think my mother would worship you if she heard about this. No really, people rarely just give expecting nothing in return these days.” Truth be told, had it not been for her mother, Elektra would’ve stopped believing in these kind of people long, long before, especially when she could see through fake smiles and sweet words that hid the real motivations running underneath. But Elijah seemed genuine, smiling like there was nothing strange about a gesture like that, and Elektra smiled in return, putting the Gatsby back in its place. “Really, it’s impressive. I admire you for all this.” A small laugh left her lips at his next words, and she looked back down at the books, though she still paid attention to him, “Yeah it is, isn’t it? I mean, hard to explain. People often don’t get how we feel about books - that every one is different, every books means something else to me. Especially the editions - I associate them with memories and places and people, and how I felt when I read them.”, she cleared her throat, and gave him a small smile, “Sorry, I talk a lot. But no, you’re not alone. Hence the fact my dad had to buy me an entire floor for me to arrange my practice - I wanted one of those bookshelves that covered all three walls from floor to ceiling.” She felt bad about making her dad pay that much money for a location in Manhattan, but it was short-lived and ebbed away when she first walked into her new office/practice 2 years ago. She was just taking Pointer Count Pointer from his hand and thanking him, when his words distracted her and her eyes shot up again, wide from surprise, “You’re kidding. A book store? Selective older pieces.”, she forced her voice back into control, though one could hear surprise in the way she chuckled and the way her brows furrowed slightly, “No way. What are you, Willy Wonka for books?”

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andryatelh:

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kiillercarter:

“They won’t be.” Her words are far too certain, and she couldn’t even really explain WHY. As the mug was set down in front of her, Aspen chewed on her lip, mulling it over. She was assured by the woman’s words that it would stay between them, and it gave her room to think. “Out there….I’m in control.” She makes sure of that. Always. The gun is in her hand. The knowledge on her side. It’s why she does her own recon, not trusting what she read in the flies that were slipped to her. She’d never been on a job that she felt threatened. Well, maybe once or twice, but it never triggered the sort of thing that happened the other week when their home had been invaded. That was….different. It had been too many things that hit home all at once. One at a time…yeah, she could deal with that. Finally, a shrug, taking another moment to sip her drink. “Out there, I’m in control. That’s how I work.” It’s a brief summary of what’s been through her mind, but Aspen wasn’t great at putting things into words. 

For a long moment Elektra didn’t say anything. Instead she stirred her coffee almost mechanically and listened to the dull, repetitive clank of metal against porcelain, eyes fixed on some indeterminate point on the table in front of her, as if in deep thought. Aspen was rather quiet, choosing to focus both her words and her attention to only one part of what Elektra had said, and El thought that was a particularly important distinction that had its roots in some sort of defensiveness when the topic turned to her job and her performance.  “I don’t doubt your expertise, Aspen. You’re a great asset to this gang.”, Elektra started slowly, raising her eyes to look at the woman sitting across from her, El’s features schooled into an expression of understanding, “And I do believe you.” The spoon in the coffee cup came to a rest and Elektra leaned forward to place her elbows on the table and inhale slowly, “The point I’m trying to make here is that there is nothing wrong with working on your own mind. If you say you can trust yourself out there in the field, I believe you. But that’s where you’re wrong - you’re not in control only out there, you’re in control here too - you get to decide what you do. Okay?” Whatever was going on inside Elektra, the delicate care with which she weighted on every single word before it left her lips, El didn’t let it show - she never did. Instead, she offered Aspen a reassuring smile, and took a sip of her coffee, and when she spoke her voice was soft, calm, and not without that trace of a smile in the corners of her lips, “But if you ever think there might be something to improve or work on, I’m here to help. Otherwise, please don’t let all of this, get to you - no reason why we couldn’t drink coffee and talk like anyone else just because we met under strange circumstances. Right? I’m not that scary, now am I?”, with a lighthearted chuckle, her eyes fell down to her hands again, wrapped around the mug. She was a strategist here in this gang, the fact she kept files on people and conducted evals for James was something that was done on the side and kept under wraps, irrelevant to anyone out of Strategy, and Elektra liked to keep it that way. Ignorance was a bliss and sometimes, albeit briefly and fleetingly, El wished she had the luxury. “Anyway, I don’t think I ever asked - how long have you been in the gang? You were here before me, I remember you from the shooting range when I was a trainee. You’re impressive with a gun.”, she inquired conversationally, leaning back into her chair with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “Sorry, curiosity usually gets the best of me. Honestly, had it not been for James’ urging, I might have actually gone for the assassin training. A year ago, I was hell bent on getting out in the field.” A year ago she was also half mad with grief and anger and a desire for revenge, but that was one of those things only James knew and Carmen had an inkling of. 

[elektracassady-blog]

[elektracassady-blog]

Lunch Date | Whitney&Elektra

Celia Cassidy and Elektra Cassidy could not have been more different appearance-wise if they tried. Where Celia’s eyes were a deep shade of blue that sometimes seemed almost purple, Elektra’s were a strange green colour, where her mother’s hair was neatly arranged in a bun, a glistening shade of gold, Elektra’s curls were pitch-black and scattered across her shoulders, where the older woman was draped in the pastel beige coulours of her Chanel, Elektra wore business dresses and outfits that had just enough colour in it to appear charming and youthful without losing their elegance. And yet, the mother and daughter were similar in every other aspect, a byproduct of years Elektra spent emulating her mother, trying to live up to the standards the woman had set for her ever since she was adopted to the family - standards of kindness and compassion and that moral compass of hers that never seemed to be wrong. 

Saturdays were traditionally spent together, taking a stroll down the 5th, visiting stores, having a few hour long coffee sessions where the two women seemed to never run out of topics to discuss and explore - latest articles her mother was involved with writing, charity events she organised, philosophy, literature, fond memories of dad - you name it. Elektra knew, without doubt, that if someone wanted to come up with a perfect mother, Celia would still be a better mom than that. This was why as they stood in front of the charming little cafe on the UES they had just had coffee in, Elektra pulled her mother into a tight hug, and planted a kiss on her cheek before her eyes landed on the familiar figure of Whitney, approaching them. Elektra had told her to meet them at this address, in front of this cafe at 1pm when Celia would be going for a lunch with her girlfriends and Elektra wouldn’t have to worry about her mother being alone. They hadn’t seen each other since that cold day before Christmas when Whitney was upset and came to the practice for help - only now Elektra hoped the girl was feeling better, and that there’d be only good news to tell during their lunch. “Whitney!”, she exclaimed, letting go of her mother’s arm to approach the slighter girl and pull her into an embrace, “I want you meet my mom. This is Celia Cassidy.”, the older woman, standing patiently behind her daughter with a wide smile on her lips, now reached out to shake Whitney’s hand as Elektra continued, “Mom, this is Whitney Diamond.” Watching her mother place a hand over Whitney’s, tell her something about how glad she was to meet her, Elektra’s train of thoughts was interrupted by something darker - a bittersweet realisation that it was a good thing her mother was unaware of the gang’s involvement in her husband’s death. Elektra had strove to keep her mother blissfully ignorant of the fact - they took away her son, turned him into something he wasn’t, she didn’t have to know dad died at their hands too. When she spoke again, she trained her voice into a calm unassuming cadence, not to let those traces of sudden, uninvited sadness show on her smiling features.  “Mom, I’ll come pick you up after we’re done with lunch, just text me the address.”, Elektra leaned forward to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek and watched her head for the sleek black town car that awaited her by the curb. It was only once the driver closed the door that El finally turned around to face Whitney, “She likes you, you know. Mom’s eerily good at judging character, and I’m sure I’ll hear all about how pretty and kind you look when I drive her home. She’s an amazing woman, not just because she’s my mother. Technically, my adoptive mother - but she never treated me any different than Julian.”, there was a flash of something sentimental across her features, a sort of softness that came with good memories and fond thoughts, and she found she had only those when it came to Celia. Her mother, the woman that saved her life, the lady in white that stood out in the dark reality of Elektra’s world before she was taken away from that camp. Finding that her thoughts had started straying again, Elektra readjusted the bag strap on her shoulder and looked somewhere behind Whitney, down the street, with her eyebrows pulled slightly together, as if she might magically spot a restaurant they could visit, “Uh, I didn’t have any specific plan as to where we’d go eat - wanted to leave you room to decide.”, she looked at Whit again, “What are you feeling like? Italian? Chinese? French? I’ve been awake since 5am and at this point I’m so hungry I’ll eat whatever you give me.”, a smile graced her lips again as she reached out to readjust a lock of Whitney’s hair, “Love your necklace by the way. You’ll have to tell me where you got it. And also everything that happened in the last month - you seem... happier. Am I wrong?”

@littlestdiamond

[elektracassady-blog]

elijahxthomas:

Given recent developments and particular news interruptions, the whole city seemed on edge. Always looking behind, always watching the dark corners, cautious and scared of what could possibly come next.  Elijah himself had gone through the paranoia and mind spinning fear of walking the streets, and while he had no idea how to fix anything that was going on. He wanted to help in his own little way. Taking two crates full of books from his store, Elijah walked to the nearest park. Personally he loved the peacefulness of nature, always the best spot for a good book. And he would leave this books for whoever wanted them. Maybe they’d get destroyed, maybe they’d get stolen and ripped part. But maybe they’d also be read, maybe someone would pick it up and take it home to find their passion for reading reawakened.

Placing a crate by an empty park bench, he leaned down to sort the books neatly for a moment, spines facing upwards. Then taking the other crate to the other side of the path, taking a few moments to sort through and organize it. As he stood up to make his way to the store for open, he glanced back finding someone already examining one of the piles of books. “There is a book in there by Aldous Huxley, you should give it a shot” he commented, rising back to his feet and dusting down his jacket.

She left the CassCorp in a blur of angry thoughts and feelings she couldn’t quite put under control as quickly or effectively as she would’ve liked. It was rare for Elektra to go off like that, to get upset, to have her pulse race and her breathing become shallow and to feel all the oppressive weight of the unexpected legacy that was placed on her shoulders without a word of warning. She couldn’t go to her practice right now, there was nothing in that room that could help her - not all the books and not all the piles of legal papers, because there was no way she could focus - and HQ was out of the question. Carmen had just come back to work, which meant James and her would be working their issues out and Elektra wanted to give them enough space for that - enough time had passed between their last quarrel, and Elektra was hopeful that tomorrow they’d all be drinking their coffee and discussing some new topic in the office. This was why she was walking through the park at this time of day, only stopping when she caught the strange sight that was a crate full of books simply placed on the bench by the path. Surely she wasn’t seeing this right? She approached it carefully, hands still in the pockets of her coat, completely unable to help the curiosity that stirred within her, urging her to approach, making her run the tip of her finger gently, almost lovingly over the spine of one of them - a Faulkner. Whatever doubts she had about someone just leaving all of these books here, out in the open, ebbed away as she got engrossed in observing the titles, finding herself playing that game she liked to play whenever she got upset - sorting through the neatly ordered files in her memory, naming the editions and the years of publication based on the title and the cover - a useless hobby, but she found it calmed her down ever since she was a teenager going through her father’s library. “Oh good god.”, a gasp escaped her lips when a voice interrupted her from figuring out what other works of Hemingway she could find here besides Fiesta, and Elektra pivoted in her spot, placing a hand across her heart when she realised her reaction had been way over the top, “I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you and I...”, she huffed a small laugh, “Let’s just say books have that effect on me. I think that if someone wants to murder me they should definitely do it in a library.” Her eyes quickly fell to another crate the man had just stood up from, and she realised it must have been him who put them there in the first place. Putting her hair behind her ear, not to get in the way as she looked down at the books briefly, Elektra gave him a slightly puzzled look, “Wait, did you put those crates here?” Her eyes flitted between the crate and the man, and Elektra found that she was unfamiliar with the wave of confusion that overcame her, “You’re just going to leave them here?” The questions were unnecessary, Elektra could probably have guessed the answer, but as she smiled in perplexity and finally turned to properly face the man, “Uh... Sorry, I just was definitely not expecting someone to do something like that. Hello, hi, I’m Elektra.”, she extended her hand, her voice losing that incredulous edge, and attaining a slightly amused lilt, the one that came hand in hand when it came to anything book-related, “Really? Is there an edition of Point Counter Point? His longest work and I still haven’t read it - I know, shameful.”, her eyes fell down to the colourful covers, and she could feel excitement building up in her the way it always did when in presence of a fellow bibliophile, “No actually, you look like you know your books - do you know where I could find an older edition of Huxley’s Island? I have a newer one, and one from the 90ies, but I also have a bad habit of collecting more than one book edition. Used to drive my parents crazy - if I needed to be punished, they’d just ban me from buying books.”