Voice Over Scripts Novels & Stories

ROSE POV We walk into the studio, hand in hand, Excited for our voice-over session, in a magical land. Roman squeezes my hand, with a grin so wide, "Can't believe we're finally doing this," Roman says with pride. Me too, I smile back, feeling happy and free, We're seated in the recording booth, just you and me. Headphones on, script in front, we're ready to go, Roman leans in, whispers, "Remember that wedding scene, don't you know?"

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she suddenly put on a fake solemn expression. Elsa couldn't help herself, she burst into laughter. "June, I am not asking you to do that, I will think of something soon, I promise." She sighed, "Oh Elsa, I don't want you to think I was asking you to go back to acting because I needed money from you. I really meant what i said, you have done a lot for me. The extremely large pay off you gave me was enough to start the company. All the connections I made through you is what has kept the company afloat, what is mine is yours, you know that." she continued.

"Go over them. We'll be shooting within the next hour* I took the scripts from him glad I got something to do. Within the next hour, I went over the script in my dressing room. One of the scripts was a soap commercial. One I'd never seen before. It looked like a new product. "Mospen body wash" was written in bold letters on top of the script. It was a weird name but I'd done commercials with worse names. I continued with the script, apparently, I had to look sensual while looking cute at the same time. That was easy for me to do. I only had two lines to voice. The rest I assumed were for the voice artist to say. "Stand out without trying hard," was one of my lines. Standing up I said my lin

I looked at the road. She looked out the window. "The financial services firm," she said. "The founding voice you're excavating. What does it sound like?" "Direct," I said. "Specific. It addresses the person it's speaking to as someone who is capable of understanding complexity. It doesn't simplify. It doesn't perform warmth — it just tells the truth about what it offers and trusts that the truth is enough." I paused. "The acquired voice talks around things. Lots of words that mean approximately something. The founding voice means exactly what it says."

"You want to break up with me? How dare you say you want to break up with me when I haven't even said it yet, you shameless, two-timing bitch!" His words made me frown. In my previous life, he didn't even bother getting the facts straight before breaking up with me. He'd even watched indifferently as I drowned. Unsurprisingly, now that I was the one who asked for a breakup first, he had no qualms about hurling these insults at me. I pulled out my phone, which was already in recording mode. "Justin, I advise you to watch what you say. This counts as verbal abuse." He scoffed. "What's the matter? You've got the nerve to do it, but you can't stand getting exposed? You're a shameless cheater!"

Outdated but still active. I inject a payload. A custom script designed to escalate privileges. The firewall resists. Pushes back. I adjust the code. Try again. The Guardian types. STOP. I ignore them. Keep working. I'M WARNING YOU, VARIABLE. Still ignoring. Then: the voice modulator on the encrypted channel glitches. Just for a second. A tonal frequency cuts through the speakers. Familiar. Not synthesized. I freeze. I know that voice. I've heard it before. In boardrooms. In conference calls where my life was discussed like a line item.

I only listened to the first one. "Mara, guess what? Preston's major client, Everline Group, suddenly terminated their contract. His stock dropped eight percent!" I was editing photos and didn't pay much attention. The second voice message came in. "Do you know why Everline terminated? Because they just signed Lucas Rhodes as their spokesperson! "There's an exclusivity clause in the contract. If they work with Lucas, they can't work with Preston's company!" My hand stopped on the mouse. The third message said, "Mara, is Lucas helping you get revenge?"

“Ninety-eight percent.” Mr. Smith slowly shook his head. “Unbelievable.” I leaned forward. “Sam, create a deepfake audio file using Charles Rothschild’s voice.” “Command acknowledged.” The system hummed quietly as it began building the vocal model. Across the room one of the monitors flickered with lines of data as Sam mapped every tone, pause, and vocal inflection from Charles’s speech. “Voice profile complete,” Sam said after a moment. “Ready for scripted input.” I thought for a second.

“Threats are loud and I don't make noise. Consider this your last quiet moment.” Connel stepped forward, standing beside Peterson. “Next time you want to burn something of mine, try stepping into the fire with it.” He whispered into his ears. The smile on Peterson's face vanished. Connel turned to leave. “One more thing.” Connel said his back facing Peterson. “I won't be this calm the next time we meet.” Later that night, Connel placed a call to one of his contacts. “Speak.” The voice on the other end sounded sharp. “The IP was spoofed.”