Linndechir's guide to writing Landa/Hellstrom:
1) go to a nice café in Berlin, with pictures from old movies on the walls and soft jazz music
2) order a café serré coffee and Apfelstrudel
3) don't forget the cream
4) take notebook
5) write

Result?
After half an hour I decided that porn is boring, that I'd rather have naked Hellstrom with a gun, and that Landa's voice sounds like a waltz by Strauss. I'm not quite sure what happens next.

What follows is a long rambling rant about Landa/Hellstrom, about their character dynamics, about Hellstrom's characterisation, and about the possibility of a chapter three of La musica delle parole. I'm not sure anyone still cares about this. But I had to write down my thoughts to get some order into them, and I thought I'd just post them here in case anyone is still interested in the pairing. If not, you don't want to ...

... read this )
While I was procrastinating, I indulged in my latest obsession and looked for a few pretty pictures of *drum roll* Miroslav Klose. And I found these absolutely HILARIOUS pictures from some milk advertisement he did a while ago. I showed them to [livejournal.com profile] assassin_nariel , who immediately suggested to photoshop the same milk advertisement with, of course, Hans Landa. I have no idea why I didn't think of this myself. Because who could advertise healthy, yummy milk better than our dearest Standartenführer Hans "un verre de lait s'il vous plaît" Landa?

Original pictures and photoshopped Landa silliness behind the cut. The pictures are fairly big, and I don't want to cram people's f-lists with my late night silliness.


Un verre de lait, s'il vous plat )
I've always thought that the greatest compliment one could pay a writer was to offer to translate their work, especially when it's fanfiction and the translator doesn't get paid for his or her efforts, they don't even get an awful lot of recognition for it. A year or two ago someone translated a few of my Forgotten Realms fanfics into Chinese, of all languages; I was proud beyond words. Because it's one thing to send someone a quick review saying "I loved your story". It's an entirely different thing to take the time to translate said story into another language. I've done translations myself, I know how much work it is, but usually only the author gets praise, not the translator.

Soooo, all this rambling just to post a link and a thank-you. [livejournal.com profile] puppenmorder  translated part one of La Musica delle Parole into Russian. I am more flattered than I could possibly say. I'm all the happier about this because La Musica is probably one of the best things I ever wrote, and definitely one of my favourites among my own writing. For those of you who do speak Russian, and I know I have a couple on my f-list, if you're interested, you can find the translation here. I know I'm just advertising here, but I feel that [livejournal.com profile] puppenmorder  deserves some, or rather a lot of recognition for this. Unfortunately my Russian is not good enough yet to read the translation myself (except with a dictionary while looking up 90% of all words ;)), but a Russian friend of mine told me that it's very well done.

Click here for the translation

Again, [livejournal.com profile] puppenmorder , thank you so much! I hope you don't mind my rambling here, but I just felt the urge to express my gratitude more publicly than just in a PM to you. :)

Speaking of Russian, I have a Russian test tomorrow and really should go to bed now instead of babbling on my lj. ;)
Author's note: I had this really weird assignment for one of my literature classes: we were supposed to write the first page of a novel. About just anything we want. Now usually I can't write like that, but this time Hellstrom just took over my head and I wrote ... about him. Now obviously I didn't mention his name or anything, but every Basterds fan will recognise Major Creeper in this. I'd feel tempted to continue this if I had the slightest idea what was going to happen next. If you have any ideas, let me know. So, yes, while this is not fanfiction in the strictest sense, it is in fact about Major Hellstrom, so I thought people might want to read it.

---------------

Thin fingers pushed up the sleeve of his coat, pale blue eyes glanced at his watch for the first time. His contact was two minutes late.

Nothing unusual about that. It could happen, even to the most reliable people. None of his colleagues would even waste a thought on this.

But the Colonel wouldn’t have sent him, his best man, if this were a situation one of his colleagues could deal with. And he had been long enough in this line of work to trust his instincts - something was amiss.

He was still relaxed, though. He felt the comforting weight of his twin guns in the shoulder-holsters, hidden under his coat, but they were not the reason for his calm. Although he was an excellent shot, he had hardly killed anyone in all these years. At least not personally. He had always relied more on his brain than on his admittedly quick hands. It was more efficient. More cultivated, too. Shooting people made such a mess, it was a task better left to soldiers.

He leant back on the bench, breathing in the fresh spring air. Fumbled for his cigarettes, lit one, and flipped the match to the ground. Took a greedy drag on the cigarette as if he hadn’t had one in days, although the last one had been less than an hour ago. The Colonel always said that he smoked too much. The old dog would look almost concerned then, as if he cared about his well-being. A snort. That manipulative bastard didn’t know any more about affection and caring than he himself did; he simply didn’t want to lose his best man.

Five minutes. The cigarette stub was dropped to the ground and crushed beneath a boot heel. Five minutes late. Still within the limits of the acceptable, but bordering on the unusual. People knew better than to be late when dealing with the Colonel.

He sighed. He could be a very patient man, but he hated inaction. The sun had already set before he had arrived, and it was getting cold. Mothers with their children and young couples in summer clothes quickly left the park, laughing, talking, playing. Normal people. A sneer.

He lit another cigarette. He was getting annoyed. Damn it, he wasn’t some messenger boy one could keep waiting in the cold. That contact better had a good excuse when he arrived, or else he would make sure that this scum would meet his less sophisticated colleagues. The ones who thought whips were an appropriate means of communication. His lips curled in disdain. Brutes, but they had their uses.

His eyes darted around, but he didn’t notice anything suspicious. The contact was supposed to find him, not the other way around. The rendezvous point had been unambiguous, there could be no misunderstanding.

Fifteen minutes. The third cigarette. As the stub joined its two brothers on the ground, he got up. He had waited long enough. Nobody was fifteen minutes late on a meeting set up by the Colonel. It meant that things weren’t amiss.

They were really fucked up.
Last week an idea popped up in my head, and I can't stop thinking about it. I was thinking about Hellstrom's background. So far I always thought that he grew up without a father, because he's too awesome to have one. ;) And it only made sense that his father, as a young man in the 1910s, died during WW1, when Hellstrom was still fairly young. Until ... I suddenly realised that, age-wise, Landa could be his father. Usually I just thought of Hellstrom as "the son Landa never had", but who would have been the absolutely perfect son in Landa's eyes. But what if ... what if roughly 18-year-old Landa had an affair with Hellstrom's mother just before she got married to another man? Now, of course, you're going to tell me that it's fairly unlikely, but just bear with me.
The thing is - I’d still ship them in this version. Hellstrom would think that his mother's husband was his father, and Landa would only suspect that Hellstrom might be his son. And I don’t think that would keep Landa from doing him if he wants to. So, yes, what the hell is wrong with me that I want to turn my OTP into an incest pairing? Am  I the only one who finds this thought fascinating? (Probably yes. ;))

I haven’t only been speculating about more Landa/Hellstrom-fics I want to write, though, I’ve also finally written the Christoph/Eli-ficlet I promised [livejournal.com profile] wickedground . It’s short, drafty, and generally crappy, but she’s going to kill me if I don’t post something. Should be posted later tonight (I know, technically that will be Wednesday and not Tuesday, but please do forgive me ^^).


And, oh my God, my wrist doesn't hurt! For the first time in four months, IT DOES NOT HURT! Let's just hope it will stay that way  ...

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