Und seit diese Woche bin ich auch Teil von showandwrite.tumblr.com... also werde ich auch ab und zu Englische Kurzgeschichte über The Vampire Diaries/The Originals haben... die kann ich dann auch hier schreiben

Klaus Mikaelson “Not your father”

“I am not like father”. You hear him mumbling when you want to enter the room. “I. AM. NOT. LIKE. FATHER”. You hesitate. You know what it means when he is like this. You know it isn’t safe to be near him. But you also know that if he will listen to anybody, it will be you. Despite your vulnerability, despite the fact that you’re only human and he could kill you without blinking, he seems to have some kind of respect for you. You open the door and carefully enter the room.

He sits in a chair in the corner, clutching something in his hand. You can’t make out what it is, but it looks important to him. “Who says you are?” you ask softly, not sure if you should disturb him, but unable to do nothing and walk away if you see him this broken. He startles and jumps up. “Rebekah. Elijah.” Then he points at you, his eyes spitting fire. “Probably you as well”, he says accusing. “That is what everyone thinks, isn’t it?”

You look at him, surprised. You still have the tale he told you about how his father ended their time in New Orleans in your head. “Why would you think that you are like your father?” He looks at you, he looks surprised that you are here, that you are talking to him, that you are not running from him. “Because I am! He made me into what I am now. Him.” He lowers his hand, his look becomes empty, like his surroundings disappear, and he seems to be somewhere else. His muscles relax a bit. What he was clutching in his hand falls on the ground, and you can see what it is. A carving of some kind.

Carefully you walk towards him. Not too sudden. You’re no danger to him, but if he is in a mood like this, it’s better to be too careful. People have ended severely injured or even dead when he is in this state. You pick up the carving he dropped, and look at it. A knight, beautifully carved, with lots of gorgeous details. The wood feels soft, like it’s been held a lot of times. “Klaus?”, you ask. “What’s this?”. He looks at you like he was forgotten you were here. “A knight. I carved it, a very long time ago. For Reb…for my sister. She used it to feel strong when she was afraid.”. He calms down, looking at the figure, and sits down.

You sit down next to him, holding the knight, showing it to him. “You made this? It’s gorgeous.” You mean it. “Hold it. Hold on to it. Use it to remember who you are. Not the monster you think your father made you.” You put the figure back in his hand, and close it around it, holding on to his hands. “Thís is you. The boy who made this, the man who sees beauty in his surroundings. Please try to find back that man.” When you leave him, he is still sitting there, holding the knight in his hand, staring at it. Hopefully trying to find out who he really is.

Klaus Mikaelson - “Painting”

Before you entered the room, you made sure that Genevieve wasn’t there. You didn’t like her, didn’t like the game she had been playing with Klaus, the game she probably was still playing. You’ve had a few run-ins during the last few weeks, and you didn’t feel like repeating those. Today, she wasn’t there, so you sneaked in his room, tried to act like you weren’t there, hoping, against all odds, that he didn’t notice you come in, and just watched him paint. It seemed to work.
You loved seeing him, relaxing before the canvas, mixing paints, the secure strokes of his brush. You could see that he knew he was doing. You heard before that he was a great artist, but seeing that artist at work with your own eyes was still something completely different than just hearing about it. You couldn’t avert your eyes, held your breath while watching him.
“Done staring, love?” You startled. You really hoped you managed to have gotten in without him noticing, but apparently he had just ignored you until he thought the moment was ripe to start talking.
“I…I wasn’t aware that you noticed me.” Suddenly you started stuttering, something you hadn’t done for a very long time. He just managed to take you by surprise.
“You shouldn’t try to sneak up to an Original, sweetheart. It will never work”. He turned around, the brush still in his hand, his muscles still relaxed from pouring out his feelings on the canvas that was now standing behind him.
“Sorry. But it was worth a try…” You smile at him. “What are you painting?” You could see some outlines, some basis, but nothing concrete yet, and your curiosity got the better of you.
“Nothing you would care for, love.” He immediately dismissed your question. “It’s just a way to pass the time. Heal the wounds my sister left me with.” His sister. Rebekah was gone, and you knew he missed her, missed her more than he wanted to admit. Apparently his way to deal with it is getting lost in distractions.
“And that’s why you’re hooking up with the woman who made sure to open those wounds?” You couldn’t help it. You had to ask him, you had to know.
“I don’t have to justify my choices to you, of all people.” He turned around, started painting again. “She’s just another distraction.” You knew you had asked the wrong question, that he wouldn’t talk anymore, that you should leave, before he decided he didn’t want you here anymore. When you stood up, you saw he still kept the small carving of the knight, the one he carved, the one he gave to Rebekah tucked away on a shelf. Behind some books, but still, it was there.
You took it in your hands, walked towards Klaus and placed the figure next to the painter’s easel.
“As a remembrance,” you said. “To never forget, even when you are healed, when you are ready to begin anew.” You turned around, walked out of the room, only to look back when you were at the door. You saw him, his brush forgotten in his hand, staring at the carving. You knew he would heal, that he was healing, but also that he would, that he could never forget his sister.

Klaus Mikaelson “It’s ok to be afraid (inspired by the song “Explosions” by Ellie Goulding)

He was sitting alone in the courtyard, completely alone. No other vampires, no daywalkers, not even his brother, his son nor his sister. He was completely alone… You walked up to him, wanting to ask him what was wrong, but the moment you saw his face, you didn’t dare to say a word. It wasn’t just that he was alone in here… you saw a loneliness in his eyes you hadn’t seen there before, in the months you got to know him after he came to New Orleans. There had always been some hope, some glimmering of humanity there, but now, there was none. Carefully you walked up to him.
“What happened?”, you dared to ask, hoping he wouldn’t explode like you knew he could, like you had seen him do towards others. Not you. Never you. Until now at least. He turned around, looked surprised there was someone around, that there was someone bold enough to come up to him at this point.
“I let her go…” There was only one her who could touch him that deep. “And she went away”. All the loves he had in his life had never been able to touch him as deeply as his sister.
“Rebekah?” You asked him, and the look in his eyes was answer enough. “She’ll come back. She always did, didn’t she?”
“Not this time. It will never be the same, after what we went through tonight. Not this time…” He shook his head, like he was convincing himself he was right. Then the moment of his confession was over. “It doesn’t matter. After all, I have a city to run. There was no place for my love-sick sister and her lover there”. He stood up, wanting to walk away from you. And even though you knew it was the wisest thing to just let him, you couldn’t.
“Klaus!”, you called after him. “Maybe you’ve lost her… but don’t doubt that you have loved her. Never forget that.” Immediately he stood before you, so close that you did a step backwards. Those words had been too much, you were sure of it.
“Make no mistake love… Love is weakness, love is what gets us hurt. I don’t love, I’ve lost my faith in loving long ago.” You were sure he was lying, because the hurt you saw, was proof enough that he did love. He turned around to walk into the house, you were going to leave the compound, knowing that one more word could get you killed. But you couldn’t just leave him there, in this state, so there was one last thing you wanted him to know.
“I hope you will find your peace of mind, Klaus.” He stopped, not turning around, but you were sure he was listening. “Love will find you, another time…” Then it was enough. You made your way out of the compound, and at the door you stopped one last time, looking at the troubled man who was still standing in the courtyard, who was still so lonely that no one was able to reach him now. And you whispered.
“It’s okay to be afraid…”

Klaus Mikaelson “Party”

“And what was the part of no party that was so incredibly hard to understand?” You felt the bricks of the wall behind you in your back, but you couldn’t get away. He was standing in front of you. Close… too close to be comfortable, one hand placed at the wall beside your head, not ready to let you go. And you thought it was such a great idea, after finally getting to know what his birthday was. Setting up a party, invite everyone who mattered, in the city, to Klaus, to you, and just have a great night. Ok, he might have said something about not wanting a party, about enjoying eternal life too much to be bothered to celebrate the separate years, but you didn’t listen too well to that. Doesn’t everyone object to a birthday party they got offered, at least for show?
“I… I didn’t know you meant it…”, you managed to answer in a very small voice.
“Well love… let me make something really clear… I usually mean what I say. And if there is something I don’t handle well, it is people sneaking up behind my back, doing in secret what I openly told them not to. Did I make myself clear?”
And it had been such a wonderful party… the decorations turned out better than you had expected, and everyone who had accepted the invitation was there. The party couldn’t fail. Or at least, not until Klaus himself arrived. Sure, he was graceful enough to the other guests, but his attitude made clear he wasn’t enjoying himself, and the feast died out, long before it should have. And now it’s just you and him, alone, between the decorations, the empty glasses and the last music still playing from one of the boxes. You were too tired to say much in your defence.
“I… I just want to go to bed now…”, you managed to reply, and you tried to walk away, in the one direction you still had some room to manoeuvre.
“I didn’t think so…”. In vain. If the commanding tone in his voice hadn’t already held you back, then his hand grabbing your arm would have. “You didn’t answer my last question yet. Did I make myself clear?” He put emphasis on every word of the last sentence, and between the exhaustion after everything you had done to make this party a success and Klaus telling you off, you felt the tears burning, ready to come out. You fought them, didn’t want to show him how you felt, even when he could probably see that already. You just nodded.
“I didn’t hear you?” He really wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily…
“You’re clear…” you managed to say without breaking down.
“Good… off to bed with you.” He sent you off like a little kid, which was probably all you were to him at this moment. “We’ll discuss this more elaborately in the morning…” He really wasn’t going to let you get away with this… He released your arm, turned around and walked away. That was the moment your legs couldn’t hold your weight any longer. You crumbled down against the wall, curled up and felt the tears streaming down your face.

Damon Salvatore - “He’s there”

“Drink?” He held out a glass to you, and you were more than happy to accept it.
“O yes please… I need it after what you just told me.” He had gone on a murder spree. Again. “How could you?” You sighed and took a sip. “I thought you were past that, that killing wasn’t your immediate reaction anymore when something went wrong?” He paced up and down the room, drinking, trying to make up his mind, trying to explain to you why he did it, what had caused him to lash out, like he always does when something goes wrong.
“Don’t you get it? That’s who I am! I lash out, I act stupid, I kill people. It’s not something I “get over”. It’s part of me, and none of you seem to want to understand that!” He stopped before the fire, averted your gaze when you walked towards him.
“I know that! And… I don’t say I approve, but please Damon. I know that you’re not completely like this, even if you don’t want to admit it. When are you going to get it in your stubborn head that not everyone believes you to be bad? That there are people who believe there is good under that mask of yours?” You reached out to touch his face, but he didn’t let you, turned his back on you. You couldn’t believe his stubbornness. You knew it was partly pride, that he didn’t want to admit that it couldn’t be true what he had heard his entire life. That he was a disappointment, that he wasn’t worth attention, that he was a monster. And the fact that two people whose opinions were important to him called him exactly that was enough to push him over the edge.
“That is what you all keep saying. And the moment I do something that doesn’t please you, it’s suddenly not me? I’m sick of it, do you hear that? It is me. It is at least a part of me!” You looked at him, pacing through the room like a caged animal, the rage clear within him. And he was right. Partly at least. But even if he didn’t want to see that, there were people accepting him for who he was.
“I’m sorry Damon. But I can’t put aside all the morals I’ve learned since I was a kid. I don’t like murder, and I never will. But I do love you, despite all the things to do, despite… despite everything.” You walked towards him, put your hands on his shoulders. “Look at me. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to get you through it. All of us who love you… your brother, me, and believe me, more people here. We’ll just have to show you that we care for you, that we believe you to be more than the monster you believe yourself to be. Because there is so much more to you…” He turned around, slowly, the anger gone from his eyes. Instead you just saw sadness, maybe even a little remorse.
“I can’t change who I am…”
“You don’t have to. Because the person we are looking for is there.” You put your hand on his chest, above his heart. “I’m sure of it.” You looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve seen him.”