Practice Voice Acting Scripts Mga Nobela at Kwento

Once upon a time, she had been Elsa, the queen of the acting world, all that had changed when she retired to her married to Gabriel Lockwood. When she discovers her husband is cheating on her and even plans to divorce her, she is heartbroken and decides it's time for a new start in her life. Will she go back to acting and take her crown again? What happens when she has enemies, which includes her ex husband, who do not want her taking back that crown. And is Asher, her long time friend who recently came back into her life, being genuine with her? Read to find out.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

"What do you want in return for saving my daughter?" Japheth Williams asked blankly. Gilda quickly sprang up, "No. I didn't save her because I wanted a prize, Angel is just too...." "Then have a nice time," Japheth cuts in and leaves without looking back. Gilda was taken aback; she saved the billionaire's daughter because she happened to be locked in the same storeroom. Now her father thought she did it because she wanted something in return. Getting back home, a wedding proposal was waiting. Her stepmom handed her the proposal, "You either marry him or stop acting." Stop acting? Acting was her biggest passion and dream. Asking her to quit or get married was too much, and so she left home. While roaming on the street, another proposal met her again, and this time it was from Seth Williams, Japheth's brother. "My niece can't get enough of you. Be her nanny, and I'll sponsor your acting career". Frustrated and desperate, she agreed. If taking care of Angel alone was the real job, it would be easier, but she was forced to deal with her crippled father, too. Japheth Williams. The head honcho of the biggest film industry in the country. It started as a business deal, but how did it end? And who is Angel’s real Mum?.

A couple along with their 16 years old daughter who's deaf and 13 years old son moves into a small town called Santa Monica, everything was perfect not until their 16 year old daughter started acting differently.

Doctor Morgan was accused of murdering an eight year old girl and subjected for death penalty when found guilty. Angelic Morgan believed her father was innocent and started her investigation about the case. Same patterns of death cases were recorded long years ago and yet all investigations led to presumptions and the brutal killings remained unsolved. Now, she believed that it was not an error of medical practice but an unexplainable phenomenon where demonic manipulation could possibly exists. Contrary to this, a formulated chemical was discovered inside the dead body. Who was the murderer behind? Was it an invention of science? Or a manifestation of evil?

I fell asleep in my CEO girlfriend"s office. When I woke up, I found two large words tattooed across my face that read 'Old Bachelor'. Sophie Spark's assistant, Joshua Payne, was holding a tattoo pen, looking at me with a provocative smile. "You've been with Sophie for ten years and she still hasn't married you. That makes you a pathetic bachelor, doesn't it?" I smashed the mirror on the spot. The shards scattered like rain toward Joshua. The next second, Sophie rushed in and shielded him behind her. She frowned at me, her voice full of impatience. "He's just a young guy joking around. What right does that give you to pick on him?" I stared at her open collar. On her chest was a faint red mark. Looking closer, in the shadow of her cleavage, I could make out the words 'I Love Joshua'. Joshua peeked out from behind her, acting cute as he spoke. "Sophie was worried I'd be bored, so she specially bought me a tattoo pen that won't wash off. I was just joking around. You're not that petty, are you?"

My husband's gym was celebrating its grand opening, so I grabbed my best friend and headed over under the guise of "checking the place out," armed with a $10 trial class we had snagged from a group deal. I never once mentioned that I was the owner's wife. The moment we wrapped up the workout, a female trainer slapped a price sheet into our hands and gave us a look that could cut glass. "Let me guess, you two came here to milk the freebies? Our private training sessions cost hundreds. They're not here for people like you to exploit." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We bought a perfectly valid trial class. How does that make us freeloaders? Get your manager." She rolled her eyes, acting like she was the rules. "Call whoever you want! The owner is my boyfriend, and he can't stand penny-pinchers who show up trying to mooch off his gym." Then, right in front of us, she called him—voice raised, dramatic, dripping with fake indignation. "Babe, there are two cheapskates in your gym demanding the manager. Come deal with them for me!"

Jordan and Nora have been best friends since they were seven. Same rink, same team, same terrible vending machine hot chocolate every first practice of the season. It’s always been easy. Then Nora gets a scholarship offer from a hockey academy across the country, and suddenly nothing is easy anymore. They’ve got one last season and somewhere between the playoffs and the goodbye, they’re going to have to figure out what they actually are to each other. Some things you can only say on the ice. Some things you can’t say there either.

Yselle Morel is watching her family's glassworks collapse—unpaid wages, angry suppliers, a bank ready to shut the gates. When Renaud Valois, a feared billionaire financier, offers a rescue, it comes with a cruel condition: marriage. He says it’s business. His eyes say it’s revenge. In Valois’s riverside estate outside Paris, Yselle plays the obedient wife—smiling, thanking staff, acting harmless. She calls it "wife camouflage." Then she finds a locked room behind the library wall: a war room filled with files, photos, and timelines about her father’s life… and a folder stamped with Yselle’s name. Renaud didn’t choose her. He planned her. As “accidents” start closing in—tampered brakes, poisoned tea, a near fall on a dark stairwell—Yselle realizes the marriage isn’t only punishment. It’s protection. Someone wants her silent before the Day 30 board vote that will decide her family’s future. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more she fears the man who raised her. On the eve of the vote, Yselle opens the last drawer in the war room and finds an envelope addressed to her—in her mother’s handwriting. The ink looks fresh. Then the lights go out, and a voice behind her whispers, “Don’t trust your husband.”

My fated Alpha wanted to indulge his mistress Vivian as Luna for a while. So he pretended he'd lost our connection and wouldn't even admit I was his Luna. Walking past the study, I heard Vivian's sickly sweet voice: "Darling, if I'm acting Luna, can you mark me every night too? But... won't Sophia get suspicious? I mean, you two have been mates for five years." "What's she going to do? She can't leave the pack, and she definitely can't leave me," Ethan scoffed. "Sophia? That idiot. I told her I lost the connection, and she actually believed we didn't have a bond anymore. Even if she found out the truth, she'd just quietly hand over the Luna title and go back to being a healer. The only Luna in my heart is you, sweetheart." I stopped in my tracks. I didn't call him out. A sharp pain shot through me as our mate bond weakened. I turned and left. Let them think their little plan was perfect. They'd find out soon enough what a big surprise this "idiot" had in store for them.