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imp3ratrix) wrote2009-09-03 08:25 pm
Fic: The Tangled Web We Weave
Title: The Tangled Web We Weave
Category: Inglourious Basterds
Pairing/Character(s): Slight one-sided Hans Landa/Bridget von Hammersmark
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Inglourious Basterds and all immediate characters, themes and ideas are registered trademarks and belong to Quentin Tarantino. No profit is being accumulated from this writing piece.
Word Count: 1,321
Spoilers: Yes
Warnings: Dark and adult themes.
Summary: Bridget von Hammersmark was a brilliant actress.
Notes: A play on the Colonel’s thoughts.
Actresses are an intriguing breed.
Intriguing, in that their very profession is predicated upon a lie. Always pretending, donning fake personas and conveying the most complex of human emotions without so much as a bat of the eyelid. Day in and day out, their routine of forced smiles and false tears continued, and so he often found himself wondering whether there was anything of truth to them at all. Of substance.
Surely, if a person played pretend their entire life, how could they seek to distinguish themselves from all the characters they may have portrayed? From all those they have yet to play? A puzzling query – and he so did love puzzles! – that would sooner see him reach a crux. That would force him to ecstatically ponder over what truly lay beneath all the glamorous facades and scandalous rumours, and he’s ever the detective. So putting to use all the tools of his trade, he begins a search for much-desired truth.
First, he observes. Studies critically their dubious virtues, displayed with or without self-consciousness… looks for the cracks on their well-donned masks. Not an easy feat, he soon comes to learn, and he mentally labels them masters of deception.
Next, he notes their habits. Their petulant need for admiration. Their weakness for flattery. Their fickle flight from one handsome gentleman to another. If he were to compare them to a beast, they would most definitely be butterflies. Elusive, hypnotic, social butterflies… trophies for the taking! And like a collector with a net… predatory spider on a web, he strikes.
Prey to his bait, they feed off his sugary words, charming smiles and gentlemanly attention. The lack of effort on his part is certainly surprising, but at their seductive grins and sing-song laughs, he wonders once again which face he is granted the frustrating pleasure of seeing.
The answer, thus, continues to elude him. But he is nothing if not persistent.
Light is shed, ironically, in the dark. Behind the closed doors of their bedchambers, as they writhe wildly underneath him… consumed by the proverbial throes of lust-filled passion so aptly recorded by history’s greatest poets. Here, away from any source of brightness, his little butterflies begin to slip. Pinned down effortlessly, and his eyes never leave their gorgeous face.
Much is revealed during such raw, unreserved moments, and he studies it all. Curious butterflies, pretty butterflies… how he watches their lashes flutter and their lips part as they sing their wanton cries. Consumed by untamed ecstasy, and the end is near as the masks, alas, begin to come off. Sees them finally for what they really are….
Human.
Disappointingly human.
He’s not quite sure what he expected to find… some great truth, perhaps? Certainly if their lavish lifestyles and world of make-believe promised anything, it would be something of the fantastical. There is none of that, he muses sadly, no extraordinary revelations to be had and the screen’s revered sirens are just like the rest of them; human.
All too human, hiding behind a veil of lies and that is the truth.
Of course, there are those that can lie far better than others. Brilliant actresses, and the not-so brilliant. Detective that he is, ever skilled at reading people and exposing what he sees, he can usually tell… distinguish the good from the bad.
Bridget von Hammersmark was a brilliant actress.
Exceptionally good at lying – once upon a time – and her facade was one not so easy to pick apart. He thus beseeched her, many a time, exceptional beauty that she is, and she would have made a fine, nein, worthy addition to his list of unravelled conquests.
She was a resilient butterfly, however. Quite unlike the rest, and what had she said? …Ah yes, she would not be falling into that ‘honey pot’.
If Lady Fortune had not played her propitious hand, he may have been offended.
But now, as they stand in tense opposition in the crowded foyer, weaving a web of deception like the practiced professionals they are, all pretences of civility and mutual admiration slowly begin to ebb away. Surrounded by American fools, her pride and resoluteness withering with every question – yes, he does tease rough – she is less and less Germany’s coveted actress, and he would have sighed if he were feeling marginally cordial. If the truth had not been so generously exposed to him; modesty aside, he is a good detective.
Rather, at her pathetic attempts to maintain appearances – mountain climbing, really? – he laughs. So amusing; watching the little butterfly squirm, caught in his web if you will. Thoroughly amusing, made all the more entertaining in that he knows she is lying. And quite badly, at that.
Oh Fräulein von Hammersmark… how low you have fallen!
Nevertheless, it dawns on him that it is time to bring the masquerade to a close.
Seated within the Mademoiselle Mimieux’s office – and how fitting that it should be dark – he smiles and toys with her some more when really all he wants is to tear her apart! Bestows a new role upon her, broken actress that she is and it will be her last, that of Cinderella with a tragic twist and… voila! The shoe fits!
Eyes full of terror and oh so wide – at last, something true to behold – the final veil falls and he sees her finally for what she really is….
Whore.
Traitorous whore.
She tries to be brave when she asks him what is to come next… tries not to break as tears pool in her eyes. She tries. She fails. Oh well, he’s had fun.
Really, he has.
Still, he’s not quite sure what emotion claims him next.
Anger?
Madness?
Grief?
A combination, perhaps?
Either way, before he himself realizes, he’s lunging forward with potent fury… sending her to the floor as his hands wrap about a beautiful porcelain throat, and how did that happen? Small surprise, to be sure – he’s not usually this frenzied – but he does not pause, nor does his grip falter.
Interesting….
A part of him, one not enslaved by vitriol emotion, looks down upon her then with morose nostalgia. Gazes into sapphire orbs and finds… truth. Great truth. Behind the closed door of the small office, as she writhes wildly underneath him… consumed by the proverbial throes of pain-filled desperation so aptly recorded by history’s greatest poets. Here, away from any source of brightness, his little butterfly begins to slip. Pinned down effortlessly, and his eyes never leave her gorgeous face.
…He almost laughs at the distorted connection.
Connection all the same, and it makes perfect sense. Love and death: exhausted topics for the writers of the world, but so quintessentially human. One could even say they define human, and it’s no wonder poets write of nothing else. Inspire too, perhaps unintentionally, unrepentant sex and murder with their colourful words and vivid imagery… both acts of passion and the two match each other perfectly.
Elation at the revelation, consumed by utter passion and nothing else, he thus takes his answers and so much more the moment he tightens his grip. Fascinating butterfly, broken butterfly… how he watches her eyes bulge and face go red as he squeezes the very life from her. Consumed by horror, and the end is near as the last mask, alas, at long last comes off.
Sees his favourite little actress leave the world more beautiful than when she came in; her real face deathly pale and eyes eerily dim.
And then, silence follows.
He studies her for most of it. Falls victim to the sight of her so listlessly exposed, and he caresses her cheek adoringly, all too tender and as if they were parted lovers. Places a soft kiss on red lips – a parting farewell – still lips, that will never weave naughty little lies ever again.
Yes, actresses intrigue him greatly.
But none quite as much as the late Bridget von Hammersmark.
Fin
no subject
Indeed, it toyed on my mind as well, as the outburst just came out of nowhere. But then I seem to recall reading somewhere that strangulation is the most... intimate way to kill someone, apparently. So I sort of just ran with that. XD
no subject
But then I seem to recall reading somewhere that strangulation is the most... intimate way to kill someone, apparently. So I sort of just ran with that. XD
Yes, I learned that from Criminal Minds xD
no subject
The first goes without saying; his utter lack of self-control and the fact that he killed her in that manner does indeed indicate something of a personal nature. I doubt it's limited to her treachery, which seems awfully trivial when compared to everything else he's seen and dealt with. It almost seems as if he has taken her betrayal personally; as a crime against him as opposed to the Reich (and we all know how loyal he is).
And yes, he did seem to linger a bit on top of her even after she died. Good eye. :D
Though I think the next part too, wherein he calls the ushers, speaks volumes of his dejected mindset. For the first time, we actually see him genuinely aggrieved and lackluster. He wasn't his usual jovial self, and the tone of his voice seemed somewhat drained and somber. Even his expression as he was dialing appeared grave and disconnected, which suggests the event was still lingering on his mind and not instantly dismissed.
This is interesting as he has, after all, seen and probably killed many people in the past. And as is shown with Shosanna's family, there is little real emotion displayed (except maybe glee). His behavior following Bridget's murder, however, clearly doesn't fit what we have seen of his character, again hinting that it has probably affected him in quite a significant manner.
This attitude can again be seen when he's talking with Aldo in that cafe. He is his usual cheerful self all until he's asked about Bridget, at which point his personality shifts once again to utter severity, both in voice, body language and expression, and back again when he brings up Donowitz and Omar.
Then there are the little things: the way his gaze just lingered (and for quite a while) when he spotted her from the staircase, being totally in her space when he was asking her when and where she went climbing (and his little 'I tease rough' was ripe with insinuation), the near-revered attention he displayed whilst removing her shoe, and finally, that little indirect kiss he placed on the handkerchief she had signed and pecked after his face totally lit up. XP
So after all that, I would argue that he does seem to harbor some sort of twisted affection for her. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into it. :P
Either way, I think this little analysis has just cemented these two as my first official favored pairing. :D
no subject
Very nice meta, makes me want to pay even more attention the third time around when I'll see the movie (obsessive behaviour, what is that??). I never actually thought about him sniffing/kissing the handkerchief in a sexual way, now that you've mentioned it, it makes totally sense (and was pretty obvious xD).
TBH I wonder how many people he actually killed in his career. We didn't actually see him as anything else than the Jew Hunter/Detective. He didn't gun down Shosanna though he had the chance and the Dreyfuses were killed by the other soldiers. Maybe he actually doesn't like to make his hands "dirty" which makes the death by choking even more intimate and personal.
Anyway, I'm happy you consider them now as your favourite ship, so you might write more fic I'd love to read. I think I actually prefer het in this fandom with Landa/Bridget and Fredrick/Shosanna, with the exception of Hicox/Hellstrom which I find interesting (and well, I RPS Eli Roth and Christoph Waltz because I'm weird).
no subject
That was probably one of the longest rants I have ever written, so on the obsessive front, you're not alone. :P
I wonder too, hence the 'probably', which now that I think about it should of been 'maybe'. But I like your theory, which does indeed make the whole thing more personal and passion-driven. ...Kinky ship is kinky. XD
But yes, I'll definitely try and write more sometime soon. I'm also tempted to explore Landa/Shosanna (*shrinks away*) which could be interesting in a dark, twisted way, but really it's this adorable photo that does it for me:
♥_♥
Unfortunately, I don't think I can make myself write RPF, so I might as well play with their characters instead.
And finally, thank you for
no subject
And Shosanna/Donny just for this:
Actually, Melanie/Christoph/Eli are my OT3 because all three are soooo touchy with each other (or maybe Christoph and Eli are touchy with her).
Well, I hope operation_bingo lurks out more people. I mean it's now already the third or fourth comm with the same set-up, but at least we use tags which makes it more organised xD Also you should totally post the meta to the comm, we need some discussion :D I wanted actually to ask in the basterds comm, but then you wrote this whole thing up and it has all my thoughts already haha :D
no subject
It's definitely a great dose of inspiration too, and I'm happy to say I have an idea for a Landa/Shosanna fic. I'll be getting right onto it after uni work quietens, which should be in another two days or so as I finish off an essay.
At your request, indeed I shall post it the moment I'm done tweaking it a bit. That being said, should I just make a post on
no subject
Good luck on the uni work and the essay :)
oh I don't mind, you could also just link it to your own journal via the two comms or from one community to another. Can't wait to read the tweaked version :)