Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-01-21 05:20 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2026-01-21 05:20 pm
Entry tags:
Chris Has A Good Time In None Of These.
AO3 may be down, but never fear; I've brought a third batch of ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
threesentenceficathon fills!
Are they for fandoms you're in? W... well, no. They're still almost exclusively for the Goes Wrong Show, with one short and spoilery Silent Hill 2 fill. But they are fanfiction nonetheless.
Silent Hill 2, James, 40 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt "I love you. I'm sorry."
He kisses her, before the end. Does that mean anything? When she's struggling against him, fighting for breath, perhaps she'll know it was an apology; it seems hard to believe that will bring her much consolation.
The Goes Wrong Show, Chris and Robert, 530 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'unethical (sexuality) experimentation'.
Looking through the drama society’s submissions for the Cornley Drama Festival is, as predicted, a disheartening experience. Jonathan’s concept, at least, seems solid. Dennis has submitted an incoherent mess that will require extensive cutting; Vanessa is proposing an improv session, and Chris dreads to think how that’s going to end up; Annie wants to do comedy, Christ...
Robert has submitted an original script, and Chris approaches it with reluctant interest. He’ll never admit it aloud, but the script for Summer Once Again wasn’t bad, even if the actual performance – fortunately, given the circumstances – left a lot to be desired.
Halfway through reading, Chris jolts to his feet and storms out of the room in search of Robert. He’s not hard to track down; Chris follows the sound of vocal exercises to find him in the rehearsal room.
“Robert,” Chris says. “What the hell is this script?”
“It’s my submission for the Cornley Drama Festival,” Robert says, bemused.
“The love scene,” Chris says. “With Sandra’s character.”
“What about it?”
Chris reads aloud from the script. “Richard and Sally make love, centre stage. They have to actually make love, none of that miming bollocks. The audience will sense any inauthenticity.”
Robert shrugs. “Well, they will. You’ve always underestimated the audience, Chris.”
“You can’t make Sandra do this! It’s absolutely outrageous.”
“I’ve already spoken to Sandra,” Robert says. “She’s all right with it.”
“She—” Chris cuts himself off for a moment, attempting to process that. “She’s a dedicated actress. You can’t use that to manipulate her into – into having sex with you on stage.”
“Well, what’s so special about Sandra? I make love with all the rest of you as well.”
“You – what?” Chris flicks through the script, suddenly frantic. “What?”
There it is, in black and white. Apparently Chris is also expected to have sex with Robert Grove on stage, after Vanessa and before Jonathan; Robert has thoughtfully written a glory hole into the latter scene, just in case Jonathan struggles with getting onto the set.
“Robert,” Chris says, looking up to meet his eyes, “what could possibly have possessed you to write this?”
“A passion for art, naturally,” Robert says. “And... well. Well, Denise isn’t coming back. I thought it was an opportunity to hold auditions.”
“Auditions,” Chris echoes. “To – to be your partner?”
“There’s always the chance the winner of the audition won’t be interested in the role, of course,” Robert concedes, “but the exercise should teach me a little more about my preferences, at any rate. A lot of my sexual experiences have been with a certain demographic; I thought it was time to branch out.”
A certain demographic. Chris is always careful not to think too much about his mother’s affair with Robert, but there are times when it’s hard to avoid.
“We cannot perform this at the drama festival,” Chris says, firmly.
“Fine,” Robert says. “I’ll do my acting masterclass.”
“Yes. Good. That sounds... that sounds better.”
There’s a moment’s silence. Chris would very much like to exit the scene, but it feels hard to find the appropriate parting words.
“Can I include stage kissing lessons in my acting masterclass?” Robert asks.
Chris shakes his head. “Please don’t.”
The Goes Wrong Show, Sandra and Robert, 210 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'burning down in flames for kicks'.
"I'm not imagining things, am I?" Sandra asks Robert, backstage. "This play is actually going... well."
"I've never seen anything like it," Robert remarks. "Nobody's been injured. The set's still holding together. Even Dennis remembered his lines. Extraordinary."
She's seen it herself, of course, on the stage, but it still feels surreal to hear someone else confirm it. "How much is left? I only really read the parts of the script I'm in."
"Just Chris's last monologue," Robert says. "Should be straightforward enough. And then that's it: a perfect performance."
"A perfect performance," Sandra says. "Wow."
They're both quiet for a moment.
"It doesn't feel right, does it?" Sandra asks.
-
The flames are leaping up the set behind them, fierce and magnificent, licking threateningly at the curtains. They should probably leave soon. But the play is over, and there is protocol to be followed.
Sandra takes a bow beside her fellow performers, brimming with a strangely intense pride. This is the greatest performance they've ever done, because this is the outcome they chose.
Well, most of them chose it. They couldn't consult the person who was actually on stage, obviously.
Sandra glances over her shoulder. Chris is doubled over and screaming into the floorboards.
He'll probably be fine.
The Goes Wrong Show, Chris/Robert, 150 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'ulterior motives'.
Robert leans over Chris’s shoulder in bed to look at the casting sheet. “How’s the war drama going?”
Chris sighs. “Just can’t work out who’d be best for each role. Everyone’s going to be playing men; I can’t even divide it by gender.”
“Well, I’ll be playing the lead, obviously. You can put me down there.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What’s not that simple? We’re getting married, so I play the lead. That’s how it works.”
Chris takes a moment to go back over those words in his head. Shifts to look at Robert properly.
“Robert,” he says.
“Nepotism, Chris. I’m sure you’ve heard of it; it’s the backbone of our industry.”
“Robert,” Chris says, cold horror creeping over him as two years of memories recontextualise themselves, “did you seduce me just so you’d get better roles?”
“And the fact that you didn’t realise until this point,” Robert says, patiently, “demonstrates my remarkable acting skills.”
The Goes Wrong Show, Robert/Celia, 390 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'accidental voyeurism'.
For a moment, Chris can’t move; he can’t form a single coherent thought. He takes in everything about the scene in one terrible instant: his own mother, her eyes closed, her back against the wall of the hallway; Robert, kissing her, his hand somewhere on her thigh under her skirt—
Robert, kissing her.
His mother is fumbling with Robert’s belt, and Chris just stares for a few awful, frozen seconds before his mind kicks in. He yells, a wordless, desperate noise; in the moment, it’s the only way he can think of to stop this.
“Oh, Chris,” his mother says, opening her eyes, seemingly exasperated. “We can talk about this later.”
“No!” Chris storms over and grabs Robert’s arm, trying extremely hard not to think about where that arm’s just been. “No, I think Robert and I will be talking about it now.”
He drags Robert into the dining room.
“What’s wrong with you?” Robert demands, as Chris slams the door shut.
For an instant, Chris just stares at him. “What’s wrong with me? That’s my mother! That’s my mother you were—” He can’t form the words; he can barely think them. Anything he could end that sentence with is horrific.
“Romancing,” Robert contributes.
Even worse. “That’s my mother you were putting your paws all over. In our home! What the hell have you done to her?”
“I have given your mother the affection she deserves,” Robert says, folding his arms. “I won’t apologise for that.”
“My mother,” Chris says, every muscle in his body tight with fury, “is an intelligent, dignified woman. She wouldn’t be caught dead with someone like you.”
“Someone like me? What, an accomplished actor?”
“You must have deceived her somehow.”
“Deceived her?” Robert echoes, incredulous. “What, do you think I tricked her into thinking I’m your father? I’m half his age!”
“You are! That’s a substantial part of the problem! We—” It’s hard to draw enough breath to get out full sentences. “We welcome you into our home, you betray our trust like this – you destroy the relationship between my parents—”
“Ah.” Robert’s stance and tone change, suddenly; he takes on a reassuring air. It is not reassuring. “It’s all perfectly above board between your parents. I’ve slept with your father as well.”
Chris clutches his head and screams.
The Goes Wrong Show, Robert, 100 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'last man standing'.
Falling chandeliers, faulty flying harnesses, both combatants knocking each other out during the fight scene, a glass of ‘drugged’ prop wine that was apparently genuinely drugged; the play was a disaster, and the audience members who didn’t walk out stayed only out of a sense of horrified fascination. Eventually only one actor remained, standing among the unconscious forms of his castmates; a glance at the programme, somehow printed backwards, would give his name as evorG treboR.
“Well,” he said, after a long look around the scene, “I think we can all agree that I’ve won that performance.”
I was doing so well at keeping to three sentences to begin with! But here we are now.
threesentenceficathon fills!Are they for fandoms you're in? W... well, no. They're still almost exclusively for the Goes Wrong Show, with one short and spoilery Silent Hill 2 fill. But they are fanfiction nonetheless.
Silent Hill 2, James, 40 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt "I love you. I'm sorry."
He kisses her, before the end. Does that mean anything? When she's struggling against him, fighting for breath, perhaps she'll know it was an apology; it seems hard to believe that will bring her much consolation.
The Goes Wrong Show, Chris and Robert, 530 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'unethical (sexuality) experimentation'.
Looking through the drama society’s submissions for the Cornley Drama Festival is, as predicted, a disheartening experience. Jonathan’s concept, at least, seems solid. Dennis has submitted an incoherent mess that will require extensive cutting; Vanessa is proposing an improv session, and Chris dreads to think how that’s going to end up; Annie wants to do comedy, Christ...
Robert has submitted an original script, and Chris approaches it with reluctant interest. He’ll never admit it aloud, but the script for Summer Once Again wasn’t bad, even if the actual performance – fortunately, given the circumstances – left a lot to be desired.
Halfway through reading, Chris jolts to his feet and storms out of the room in search of Robert. He’s not hard to track down; Chris follows the sound of vocal exercises to find him in the rehearsal room.
“Robert,” Chris says. “What the hell is this script?”
“It’s my submission for the Cornley Drama Festival,” Robert says, bemused.
“The love scene,” Chris says. “With Sandra’s character.”
“What about it?”
Chris reads aloud from the script. “Richard and Sally make love, centre stage. They have to actually make love, none of that miming bollocks. The audience will sense any inauthenticity.”
Robert shrugs. “Well, they will. You’ve always underestimated the audience, Chris.”
“You can’t make Sandra do this! It’s absolutely outrageous.”
“I’ve already spoken to Sandra,” Robert says. “She’s all right with it.”
“She—” Chris cuts himself off for a moment, attempting to process that. “She’s a dedicated actress. You can’t use that to manipulate her into – into having sex with you on stage.”
“Well, what’s so special about Sandra? I make love with all the rest of you as well.”
“You – what?” Chris flicks through the script, suddenly frantic. “What?”
There it is, in black and white. Apparently Chris is also expected to have sex with Robert Grove on stage, after Vanessa and before Jonathan; Robert has thoughtfully written a glory hole into the latter scene, just in case Jonathan struggles with getting onto the set.
“Robert,” Chris says, looking up to meet his eyes, “what could possibly have possessed you to write this?”
“A passion for art, naturally,” Robert says. “And... well. Well, Denise isn’t coming back. I thought it was an opportunity to hold auditions.”
“Auditions,” Chris echoes. “To – to be your partner?”
“There’s always the chance the winner of the audition won’t be interested in the role, of course,” Robert concedes, “but the exercise should teach me a little more about my preferences, at any rate. A lot of my sexual experiences have been with a certain demographic; I thought it was time to branch out.”
A certain demographic. Chris is always careful not to think too much about his mother’s affair with Robert, but there are times when it’s hard to avoid.
“We cannot perform this at the drama festival,” Chris says, firmly.
“Fine,” Robert says. “I’ll do my acting masterclass.”
“Yes. Good. That sounds... that sounds better.”
There’s a moment’s silence. Chris would very much like to exit the scene, but it feels hard to find the appropriate parting words.
“Can I include stage kissing lessons in my acting masterclass?” Robert asks.
Chris shakes his head. “Please don’t.”
The Goes Wrong Show, Sandra and Robert, 210 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'burning down in flames for kicks'.
"I'm not imagining things, am I?" Sandra asks Robert, backstage. "This play is actually going... well."
"I've never seen anything like it," Robert remarks. "Nobody's been injured. The set's still holding together. Even Dennis remembered his lines. Extraordinary."
She's seen it herself, of course, on the stage, but it still feels surreal to hear someone else confirm it. "How much is left? I only really read the parts of the script I'm in."
"Just Chris's last monologue," Robert says. "Should be straightforward enough. And then that's it: a perfect performance."
"A perfect performance," Sandra says. "Wow."
They're both quiet for a moment.
"It doesn't feel right, does it?" Sandra asks.
The flames are leaping up the set behind them, fierce and magnificent, licking threateningly at the curtains. They should probably leave soon. But the play is over, and there is protocol to be followed.
Sandra takes a bow beside her fellow performers, brimming with a strangely intense pride. This is the greatest performance they've ever done, because this is the outcome they chose.
Well, most of them chose it. They couldn't consult the person who was actually on stage, obviously.
Sandra glances over her shoulder. Chris is doubled over and screaming into the floorboards.
He'll probably be fine.
The Goes Wrong Show, Chris/Robert, 150 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'ulterior motives'.
Robert leans over Chris’s shoulder in bed to look at the casting sheet. “How’s the war drama going?”
Chris sighs. “Just can’t work out who’d be best for each role. Everyone’s going to be playing men; I can’t even divide it by gender.”
“Well, I’ll be playing the lead, obviously. You can put me down there.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What’s not that simple? We’re getting married, so I play the lead. That’s how it works.”
Chris takes a moment to go back over those words in his head. Shifts to look at Robert properly.
“Robert,” he says.
“Nepotism, Chris. I’m sure you’ve heard of it; it’s the backbone of our industry.”
“Robert,” Chris says, cold horror creeping over him as two years of memories recontextualise themselves, “did you seduce me just so you’d get better roles?”
“And the fact that you didn’t realise until this point,” Robert says, patiently, “demonstrates my remarkable acting skills.”
The Goes Wrong Show, Robert/Celia, 390 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'accidental voyeurism'.
For a moment, Chris can’t move; he can’t form a single coherent thought. He takes in everything about the scene in one terrible instant: his own mother, her eyes closed, her back against the wall of the hallway; Robert, kissing her, his hand somewhere on her thigh under her skirt—
Robert, kissing her.
His mother is fumbling with Robert’s belt, and Chris just stares for a few awful, frozen seconds before his mind kicks in. He yells, a wordless, desperate noise; in the moment, it’s the only way he can think of to stop this.
“Oh, Chris,” his mother says, opening her eyes, seemingly exasperated. “We can talk about this later.”
“No!” Chris storms over and grabs Robert’s arm, trying extremely hard not to think about where that arm’s just been. “No, I think Robert and I will be talking about it now.”
He drags Robert into the dining room.
“What’s wrong with you?” Robert demands, as Chris slams the door shut.
For an instant, Chris just stares at him. “What’s wrong with me? That’s my mother! That’s my mother you were—” He can’t form the words; he can barely think them. Anything he could end that sentence with is horrific.
“Romancing,” Robert contributes.
Even worse. “That’s my mother you were putting your paws all over. In our home! What the hell have you done to her?”
“I have given your mother the affection she deserves,” Robert says, folding his arms. “I won’t apologise for that.”
“My mother,” Chris says, every muscle in his body tight with fury, “is an intelligent, dignified woman. She wouldn’t be caught dead with someone like you.”
“Someone like me? What, an accomplished actor?”
“You must have deceived her somehow.”
“Deceived her?” Robert echoes, incredulous. “What, do you think I tricked her into thinking I’m your father? I’m half his age!”
“You are! That’s a substantial part of the problem! We—” It’s hard to draw enough breath to get out full sentences. “We welcome you into our home, you betray our trust like this – you destroy the relationship between my parents—”
“Ah.” Robert’s stance and tone change, suddenly; he takes on a reassuring air. It is not reassuring. “It’s all perfectly above board between your parents. I’ve slept with your father as well.”
Chris clutches his head and screams.
The Goes Wrong Show, Robert, 100 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'last man standing'.
Falling chandeliers, faulty flying harnesses, both combatants knocking each other out during the fight scene, a glass of ‘drugged’ prop wine that was apparently genuinely drugged; the play was a disaster, and the audience members who didn’t walk out stayed only out of a sense of horrified fascination. Eventually only one actor remained, standing among the unconscious forms of his castmates; a glance at the programme, somehow printed backwards, would give his name as evorG treboR.
“Well,” he said, after a long look around the scene, “I think we can all agree that I’ve won that performance.”
I was doing so well at keeping to three sentences to begin with! But here we are now.
no subject
The Fic That Went Long! :D
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Beautifully awful, which is perfect for James
Subtle!
Brilliant!
Of course he did!
\o? (For some reason, when I tried to type out \o/, it went wrong twice, so I took it as a sign.)