#dialogue for screenplays

[penstricken]

Top Tips for Writing Beautiful Dialogue

Read my top tips for writing dialogue in my new blog post here 👇 #amwriting #writing #fiction #writer

Dialogue is a critical part of any novel. Apart from the fact it makes up a monumental chunk of your overall word count, it can be a powerful tool for creating suspense, driving the plot and fleshing out your characters. Get it right, and you’re halfway towards writing a killer novel. Get it wrong, and you’re done for. If you really want to see a master of dialogue at work, you should read Hills…

[sealrock]

first kill.

[thiddleston]

[I wrote an Adar lives Adariel ficlet set in Rivendell while they're recuperating

Mutual hair braiding and deja vu ensues]

Adar goes to visit Galadriel's tent at night to talk and finds her sitting on a tree stump by her bed roll attempting to brush and braid her hair for the night. However, the ache in her wound makes it difficult and she huffs in frustration while trying to talk to him.

He offers to assist and she hesitantly accepts with a skeptical inquiry as to whether he knows how to braid hair. He only responds with a long-suffering raised eyebrow and taking the brush from her hand moves around to stand behind her and begins.

She finds herself simultaneously too relaxed and too tense with his ministrations and she distracts herself with chatting about little nothings and eventually they fall into a comfortable silence with him steadily working at her hair.

When he finishes, she surprises him with a reciprocal offer to do his hair, and after a beat too long of silence, she almost thinks he'll decline. Then, without a word, he nods as he hands her the brush and turns to kneel down with his back to her.

She starts brushing but realizes he's still too tall for her to work comfortably and bids him to sit between her legs against the tree stump. He settles in as she resumes and they revive their small talk and delicately dance around deeper topics until once again slipping into silence—the only sounds being the quiet of her fingers weaving his hair and his own private battle to keep breathing steadily.

His battle is quickly lost though as her fingers keep brushing into his scalp and a soft stuttered moan escapes his throat, but though he tenses his back, she spares him by continuing as if nothing happened.

As she finishes the end of the fishtail braid she's given him to match the one he’d given her, she sets aside the brush and rests her hands on his shoulders in a wordless offer. Inch by inch he accepts it as he relaxes his muscles and slowly leans back to rest his head on her shoulder—her right shoulder to spare her wounded left.

Galadriel slides her hands forward to wrap around him and tilts her head to the side to catch his eyes. "This seems familiar," a cautious humor to her voice.

Adar smirks lightly, "At least you don't have a dagger to my throat for a third time."

They gaze at each other in a mimic of those memories for a moment. This time though, with no sharp objects to stop him, he slowly tilts his head closer—first brushing his nose against her cheek, then mouthing light kisses at the corner of her mouth and jaw.

Galadriel, with eyes closed, is utterly lost to sensation. Adar continues like this, kissing every bit of her face he can reach, for an amount of time she could not possibly describe until it is her turn to release a moan. At the sound, his lips barely leave her skin to whisper, "Tell me to stop and I will."

Galadriel only tightens her hold and opens her eyes to look sharply at him. "If you dare stop now then I will hold a dagger to your throat again."

A deep sound between a hum and a chuckle rumbles from Adar's chest as he continues to nuzzle her face with his, "Is that a promise, my light?"

[snowangeldotmp3]

back again with more screenwriting. this time with comically accurate hawkeye show (credit to @solarsleepless for the idea!)

[twinchromatid]

my voltron reboot doc has reached 37 pages. and im still not done moving everything i currently have onto it. what the fuck

[389]

you really immerse yourself in the setting and emotions of what is happening on screen without the use of dialogue. I don't need an actor to tell me what or when I should feel something with dialogue. I should just automatically feel it and experience it for myself. That's a rule in screenplay. Show don't Tell.

[strangelittlestories]

A: All I'm saying is, just because it's a flesh-eating fungus, doesn't mean it's not a person.

B: It's a *fungus*.

A: That doesn't mean it doesn't have feelings. That it doesn't have desires.

B: Yeah, but mainly it's desires are to consume human flesh...

C: Ahem.

B: Sentient flesh. Sorry.

A: It needs a host to communicate. It just wants to talk to us!

B: But it *eats* its host!

A: Not very quickly...

B: It literally devours their flesh from the outside.

A: It's how they evolved.

B: I don't see what that changes.

A: It didn't have any choice.

B: Neither do mosquitos, but we still use bug spray. [BEAT] It's literally a parasite.

C: Ahem.

B: Ok, so maybe it's a fungal parasite with interesting evolutionary behaviour. A parasite with *extras*.

A: It's a *sentient* parasite.

B: It's a sentience that's incapable of existing without violence.

A: Exactly, another thing it has in common with us.

C: Ahem.

A: Sorry. Another thing it has in common with humanity.

B: It's a threat to life on this planet.

A: It *is* life on this planet and I would have thought you'd have at least some compunctions about committing genocide.

B: So, what would you have us do? Offer it a tribute? 14 Athenians every year on the promise that you don't eat the rest of us? It's *barbaric*.

C: Ahem.

B: Ok, fine. That was a poor choice of word. But what do you suggest we do here?

[THE BEEPING SOUND OF A DATAPAD BEING TURNED ON.]

B [disbelieving laugh]: Clones? Good one.

[PAUSE]

B: Holy shit. You're serious.

A: It could work. Batch processed, unformatted ... they're basically just/ empty shells.

B: Seriously? The ethical ramifications alone/ are a minefield-

A: More than the mass murder of a new species?

B: Not to mention the logistics. Think of the time. The *cost*.

C: Ahem.

[PAUSE]

B: Ok, sure. Exterminating them incurs costs too, but where's the genetic/ material even going to come-

A: I'll donate it.

[BEAT]

B: Seriously?

A: To save a species? Sure.

B: They will literally be devouring your genetic doubles *forever*.

C: Ahem.

B: Whatever. "In perpetuity" then.

A: I get to be part of a new organism. I'm ok with that.

[PAUSE]

B: Fine. I'll cost it up for the ethics committee. But they are going to have a fucking *conniption*.

A: Wouldn't be the first time.

B: True that.

C: Ahem.

[horrorlesbians]

whatever.

[filmcourage]

15 Tips For Writing Better Dialogue

Watch the video interview on Youtube here.

[temperqnce]

Shakarian Heist-Fic

This is a small piece of a ridiculously long ME2 fic I've been keeping close to my chest and working on-and-off on for like. Ten years. This comes right after Garrus said something stupid on Purgatory (the for-profit ransom jail, not the club) that was insensitive considering her slavery-related PTSD (she has the colony background.) They worked it out. Next thing he knows, he's on a heist-date on Bekenstein, orchestrated by Kasumi. Shep's determined to mess with him a little while they're out. This is pre-relationship.

Please be nice, I have NEVER posted work publicly before!!!

Port Observation Deck

The door to the observation deck slid open and Garrus stepped inside. In front of him, the vastness of space glimmered with sparkling stars. To his right was a small, self-service bar and lounge - a civilian ship luxury, stocked with liquors of all colors in mostly regulation space-travel friendly cylinders. They were mostly levo drinks, friendly for most non-turian species, but a few were carefully separated and labeled dextro. He had come here once or twice before, to break the ice with some of the crew. Since Kasumi had moved in, she had taken over the left half of the room with tasteful displays of (mostly stolen) art and other personal effects, but there was still plenty of space to lounge and watch the stars go by. 

On the black corner couch in the middle of the room, Kasumi and the commander were chatting and having a few drinks. Shepard was on the half of the couch that faced the door. She was dressed down in some comfortable-looking civvies, and the two women seemed relaxed. Shepard had been intently listening to whatever Kasumi had been saying before Garrus entered the room. The two looked up at him and Shepard smiled brightly and stood. 

“Garrus! Thank you for coming by. We have a favor to ask of you. Come sit. I’ll get you a drink.”

“Anything for you, Commander,” he said, and obeyed, sitting next to Kasumi on the side of the couch facing the bar. 

Shepard came back shortly with an unfamiliar midnight-dark concoction that bubbled on the sides of a narrow-topped, spouted glass. “Jane. What is this?”

“Try it. I’ve been experimenting,” She said, looking a little devious as she sat back down.

“...Are you trying to kill me, Shepard? Is this revenge?”

“Of course not! Look, it’s just xin and Drossix, but with a sort of… Quarian twist. Trust me, okay?”

“Trust you? You haven’t even tried it. You couldn’t. This could actually kill you.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Kasumi cut in. “She’d get indigestion, at worst. You know when they say ‘Drossix Blue makes human stomachs explode’ they just mean drunk assholes shitting themselves, right?” 

“...Right. Well, here goes nothing,” he said, and tossed back the drink in one gulp. Shepard’s eyes lit up, watching his face. The base of the cocktail was richly bitter and strong, but the bubbles popped tart and almost sweet on his tongue. The carbonation was dense, but the beverage went down smooth. He felt a light pleasant buzz hit the back of his brain. 

“Wow,” he said, setting the glass on the table. “That’s nice. When did you develop an interest in dextro bartending?” 

“Two of my closest friends are dextro, Garrus, it’s called cultural competence.” 

“Only one of those friends is a dextro that drinks.”

“Well… consider it me plying you for that favor.” 

“Right. You’ve liquored me up, now what do you two want with me?”

Kasumi and Shepard shared a conspiratorial look, and Kasumi nodded. The commander grinned at Garrus and asked,

“Do you wanna be my date on a heist?” 

Bekenstein

The self-driving cab descended, hovering ever closer to a huge compound taking up the edge of a dramatic cliff. The mansion at the center was made of tall glass walls and sweeping white curves. Spreading out around it were several warehouse facilities patterned almost like waves breaking away from the centerpiece. It was an incredible sight to behold as the sun crept towards the horizon and tinted the sky pink. The sunlight played gently on the mist that gathered over a vast and rocky canyon. Shepard was taking it in when Garrus grunted next to her. 

“Nice digs.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Paid for in blood,” Kasumi darkly added in the seat behind them. “The rest of the compound is an arms manufacturing facility.” 

Kasumi had asked Shepard to help her infiltrate a party of high-class criminals. Hoarders of culture and art, elite mercenary bosses, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, the works. Their mission was to break into the vault belonging to the host and retrieve a greybox belonging to a fellow thief. From what Shepard could tell, Keiji had been Kasumi’s partner in crime as well as in life. The greybox contained his memories, and as if that weren’t precious enough, encrypted within them was some damning intelligence that could cause serious upheaval in the Alliance. Keiji had been killed and his memories stolen by the criminal and art mogul Donovan Hock. Shepard was going undercover as Alison Gunn, a mercenary alter ego designed and made almost real by Kasumi’s expert work online. 

“I still don’t know why you aren’t doing this with Jacob,” Garrus complained. “The two of you would probably make a more… believable couple.”

Kasumi snorted. “HAH. Doubt it. At best they would think he was her employee. At worst his domineering mother-in-law. Come on bud, you were a detective. Crime in Citadel Space is your thing.” 

The cab touched down in an empty roundabout in front of the main hall of the mansion. They were a tad late. The cab opened up, and Kasumi lithely hopped out. 

“Hey, I’m not old enough to be anybody’s mother-in-law!” Shepard called after her, adjusting the one bracelet she owned, a simple silver chain. She started to stand. “Trust me Garrus, this is better. Kasumi’s right, you have experience dealing with these types.” She climbed out of the cab the best she could in the dress Kasumi picked out for her. It was a black halter-top dress that showed off her muscular shoulders and back. It was entirely too clingy for ease of movement, accentuating the difference between her toned waist and her bulky thighs. “It also helps that you’re not borderline afraid of me.” 

Garrus laughed, climbing out after her. “Oh, but I am.”

“Are you?” She asked, amused. She turned to offer him a hand, and he took it, but with his long legs he was already out of the car. Instead he linked their elbows and gave her a wink. 

“Oh yes. You’re terrifying. Squishy, but terrifying.” 

“Squishy?”

“Let’s move, lovebirds!” Kasumi called. The art thief was standing next to a second car fiddling with her omni-tool. As she worked, the car opened and a large gold statue of the turian spectre and infamous legend Saren Arterius slid out on a hoverplate. “We still have to go over the plan one last time.” 

They huddled together around the gaudy statue. “This really is tasteless. I can’t believe he’s taking it,” Garrus commented. 

“After a certain point, wealth actually makes your taste infinitely worse,” Kasumi said matter-of-factly. “The richest of the rich have houses full of garbage. You’ll see once we get inside.” She grimaced. “Can’t put a price on your soul.” 

“So, Garrus and I go in as merc leader Alison Gunn and…” Shepard trailed off, at a loss. “What’s Garrus’ cover? He’s famous in his own right these days. And as cool as it would be to bring Archangel, he’s supposed to be dead.” 

“Oh, I’ve got a name for the big guy,” said Kasumi. “You’ll be attending as Altus Avaros. No cool background, you’re just a wife guy. Pure arm candy.” 

“I can do that,” said Garrus, addressing Kasumi but staring at Jane, who had doubled over in silent giggles, covering her mouth with her free hand. Kasumi grinned knowingly at Garrus’ confused stare. 

“Let’s just hope there aren’t a lot of guests like our girl that know both Palaven Standard and Latin.” 

“Do I wanna know?” Garrus asked while Shepard pulled herself together. Big bird. BIG BIRD. She wanted to tell him but she knew it would ruin it. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Kasumi smiled innocently. “You two are going to go in. Schmooze a little, but not too much. We don’t want people asking you too many questions or your aliases will fall apart. Then we locate the vault, find its weaknesses, and I’ll guide you through exploiting them. I’ll be with you, and scouting around the house unseen. The statue will smuggle our weapons and armor for when we get into the vault. You can keep your sidearms. They’ll probably expect you to.” 

After briefing, Kasumi vanished, leaving the pair to start up a set of stone stairs, hovering Saren statue in tow. 

“I still can’t believe you called me squishy,” Shepard jabbed, elbowing her date as they walked.

“Speaking of squishy, where are you hiding your pistol in a dress that tight?” 

She snorted. “I could show you, but then I’d have to kill you.” 

The interior of the mansion had an incredible view of the sunset given that the entire western wall was made of glass and crystal. The center of the main room had a water feature, a large but gentle fountain with benches nearby for sitting. To either side, roped off sets of spiral stairs, and beyond those, alcoves of priceless paintings and art. The host hadn���t shown himself yet and Kasumi was scoping out the vault entrance, so Garrus and Shepard browsed the exhibits. 

The two made thoughtful noises here and there as they walked slowly through the displays. Eventually, Shepard sighed.

“Is it just me,” she whispered, “or is this…?”

“The most bored you’ve ever been in your life?” Garrus leaned over to rumble in her ear. 

“Oh thank God. It’s not that I don’t like art, it’s just-”

“Hey, you don’t have to pretend to be cultured around me.” 

“Really though! Kas was right, this stuff is uniquely bad!” 

“You know, I bet it’s better with booze. Everything’s better with booze.” 

“Garrus, we shouldn’t. We’re on a-”

“My name is Altus, thank you, and I’m already walking away. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and he was around the corner and out of sight. 

Shepard grumbled and sat down on a bench by a small fireplace. The fire was set into the wall opposite the paintings they were looking at, which also hosted shelves upon shelves of books and knick knacks. She was about to pick up a book when a pale human male with a jar-shaped head and the worst facial hair she’d ever seen sat down next to her. 

“Alison Gunn, I presume?” he said in a bizarre accent she couldn’t place, holding out his hand. Jane took it and smiled politely. 

“Yes, good to meet you, Mr…?”

“Hock. I am your host tonight,” He said smoothly. Instead of shaking her hand, Donovan Hock lifted her hand delicately and pressed it to his lips. Shepard’s stomach soured. “Are you enjoying the party thus far?” 

“I am, Mr. Hock. You have a breathtaking home,” Shepard did her best to maintain a level countenance as she took her hand back. If she could be cool under gunfire, this should be easy. Right?

“Please, call me Donovan, Ms. Gunn. And thank you for the compliment. I paid the architect three times his usual fee for his undivided attention and for dealing with participation on my part. I wanted it to reflect my tastes well,” He smiled slyly at Shepard. She felt her face start to traitorously wrinkle with disgust, and schooled it into something more like vague interest. “Come with me across the gallery for a moment, will you?” Hock continued. “I would like to show you something.” 

“This is good,” Kasumi chimed in Shepard’s earpiece. “I need a voice sample from him, it’s one of the keys to the vault. Keep him talking.” 

“Alright,” Jane said in reply to both, and she stood to follow Hock. 

Hock took her out of the northern gallery alcove and around to one of its outer walls facing the back windows. On a pedestal against the wall, was that… an old Earth optical disc? It was huge. Wider than Hock’s own massive head. 

“I admire your work, Ms. Gunn,” The man began, stepping uncomfortably close. “You keep the barbarians at bay. Those backward-thinkers that try - and always fail - to stop people like me from doing what is necessary to keep the world turning. You understand the value of my work. I appreciate that.” He gestured to the disc. “You see this? A relic of a bygone age. If it weren’t for people like us, making the right moves, making the difficult choices, doing the galaxy’s dirty work… humanity would be stuck in the dark ages. Swinging clubs and writhing in the mud.” He stepped aside and let the colorful, sparkling gradient of sunset light behind them shine on the reflective surface of the disc. 

“That was… an enlightening speech, Mr. Hock,” Shepard managed to say, turning back to the host. “And of course I agree. I appreciate that we, uh, share that understanding.” She forced herself to smile. 

“There is much I have to share with beautiful women, Ms. Gunn,” Hock said smoothly, sliding back into her personal space. Shepard felt her biotics flicker, her hand twitching and the back of her neck getting warm. She clenched her fist and-

“Heyyyy, honey, I got that drink you wanted!” Garrus said cheerfully, sliding one arm around Shepard’s waist and putting a champagne flute in her hand with the other. The maneuver effectively created a barrier on all sides of her body for a moment, and forced Hock to back up. Jane felt her building rage and tension soften. Trust Garrus to be a smooth operator, she thought, relieved. 

“Sorry, Shep,” Kasumi said in her ear. “I had to hold him back for just a second while I got the recording. But we’re good, so you guys can feel free to get Hock out of your hair.” 

The art mogul scowled, then schooled his expression and tilted his head up slightly as if to look down at the pair. If that were possible, given that Garrus was at least a whole head taller than him. 

“Mr. Hock, I appreciate you inviting my wife and I into your home tonight,” Garrus said warmly, pulling Shepard a little tighter into his side. “It’s a gorgeous place. We were just talking about how captivating the view is. You wouldn’t mind if I stole her away for a moment on the balcony…?” 

“Of course, please. I have other guests to attend,” Hock said coolly. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Gunn.” 

Shepard smiled as sweetly as she could at him, not trusting herself to speak, and let Garrus lead her down the hall and out the glass door to the wide balcony overlooking the canyon. An air highway crossing the canyon led directly into the sweeping skyline of Milgram, Bekenstein’s capital city. The buildings there were some of the tallest she’d ever seen outside of the Citadel.

Garrus let go of her waist once they reached the edge. They stood next to each other, not touching anymore but still close, resting their glasses and their arms on the thick balcony railing. They were quiet, taking in the view. Then,

“Sorry. For grabbing your waist.” 

Jane was surprised. “No need. It’s fine.” 

“No, I mean. It’s more normal for humans than it is for turians,” Garrus explained, an edge of nervousness to his voice. “We don’t really do… public displays of affection, even with partners or family. I had to sort of code-switch for a minute, and it’s fine surrounded by mostly humans. But… I would have been slapped, doing that back home. So. I feel like I need to apologize out of respect for you, even though… it doesn’t mean much to you. As a human.”

“Hmm,” Shepard said, thoughtful. It was endearing of Garrus to think so much about their cultural differences. He seemed to know a lot more about what was normal for her than she did for him. She would have to catch up. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

“I appreciate you. For stepping in. It was good timing.” 

Garrus chuckled softly. “Well… again, normally I wouldn’t do something like that. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. But normally you’d be able to hand a guy his ass with very few consequences.” 

“Yeah,” Shepard sighed. “I really wanted to do it.”

“Kick his ass?”

“Yeah.” 

“Me too,” he admitted ruefully. “Did you know I was top of my class for hand-to-hand combat in the academy? I bet he doesn’t know that.”

“Maybe he’ll get to find out later,” Shepard mused. “The night isn’t over yet.” 

“You’re right,” Garrus sighed. He tapped his glass with a talon. “You should drink this. It’s good.” 

“Your drink?”

“No. Our drink. We’re drinking the same thing.” Shepard had failed to notice that the pale, icy-green colored liquid was in both of their glasses.

“How is that-”

“It’s a newer kind of dual-chirality wine,” He explained. “Asari-made. Levo and dextro friendly, without the weird taste. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while, but it’s expensive, and, well, I didn’t want to do it alone. There was never a right moment.”

“But now, on this rich asshole’s dime…”

“Exactly.” 

Shepard touched her glass to his, a pleasant chime ringing over the vast canyon in front of them, then she took a slow sip, savoring the moment. It hit her tongue tart but settled dry, somehow both intense and impossibly light, like someone had taken an Earthen white wine and hit it with a particle accelerator. Whatever undoubtedly alien ingredients they used reminded her more of lychee and pear than of grapes. 

“Wow,” she said. “This is nice. I like it a lot.” 

“I’m glad. I’ll have to find some on the Citadel the next time we go.” 

“Thank you, Garrus. For this, and for earlier.”

“You know I’ve always got your back.” 

Static buzzed in Shepard’s ear. 

“You guys are gross. Married for all of five minutes and already making me puke,” Kasumi teased in their ears. “Get back inside, I got everything we need to get in the vault. It’s time to get suited up.” 

Jane felt a blush coming on. She left her glass on the balcony and grabbed Garrus’ hand, doing her best to twine their mismatched fingers together and pull him back indoors. They descended the stairs to the long hallway that led to the vault. 

“Hold on,” Garrus started, and they froze on the last step. “Guards coming down the other side.” Sure enough, Shepard saw the shadows of two armored men lingering at the top of the stairs at the other end of the hallway. A wicked idea fixed in her mind and she flashed a wide grin at her partner. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, and with her left arm she tugged him down the last step while with her right she shoved him up against the wall. She got a rush of satisfaction at witnessing his shock and nervousness, his eyes wide and his hands up in disarmed surrender. “I know you just said turians don’t like PDA, but…”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he replied quickly with an urgent glance down the hall.  

How does one kiss a turian? Shepard mused, pressing up against him and elbowing his arms down. The guy doesn’t have lips. She supposed she’d have to improvise. Garrus settled his hands on her hips tentatively and she wrapped hers around the back of his neck, gently craning his neck so she could reach him. A mandible is like a jaw, right? A sensitive, more expressive part of a jaw? She placed soft kisses down the uninjured side, smiling at the panicked heartbeat she felt reverberating in his chest. What happened to Mr. Suave? She wondered, before finally pressing the first of a series of exploratory kisses on his mouthplates. Kissing turians won’t be necessary, she heard her own voice in the back of her mind say to Ashley in the Cargo Bay all those years ago. She was okay with being wrong. Not because she was into it, or anything, of course. Just to get under the usually cool and confident sniper’s skin. And by his reaction… shallow breathing, tightly fluttering mandibles, a high timbre in his chest that she could only describe as acute distress… she had succeeded. That was pure satisfaction. 

She was lost in figuring out how to describe what his very foreign mouth tasted like when she heard a cough from behind her. Garrus had apparently forgotten what they were doing all of this for, because he jumped a little and let go of her quickly, like a teen having been caught under the bleachers. That was fitting enough, though, and Jane stepped back, making a show of fixing herself up though he hadn’t done anything other than attempt to kiss her back and clamp onto her hips for dear life. 

The two Eclipse guards looked some combination of embarrassed and dumbstruck. Turian-human couples weren’t very common, for good reason. “Sorry for the uh, interruption, ma’am,” one of them said, flushing and not meeting her eyes. “Just - well. This hallway isn’t off-limits, per-se, but it’s not private, either. You might wanna… I mean. Mr. Hock’s estate is extensive, I’m sure staff could find you and your, uh, friend a room if you wanted.” 

Shepard gave the men her most devastating smile. “Thanks, boys. We’ll finish up here and probably head home.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the guard said, and quickly moved along, elbowing his partner to follow him.

When they were out of sight, Shepard turned back to Garrus, whose blue-flushed neck was slowly returning to normal along with his steady breathing. He glowered at her. 

“You enjoyed that a little too much, Commander.”

“Aww, was it really that bad?” Shepard pouted. 

The blush returned. “No! No, I, uh, well, it was, uh. Just. New,” he spluttered. “Different.”

“Calm down, big guy, I’m only teasing,” she laughed, and grabbed him by the elbow to pull him down to the vault door. 

She was going to have to thank Kasumi later. This was the most fun she’d had on a mission in a while. 

--------

Kasumi flipped backwards off Hock’s gunship and back down onto some shipping containers in the coolest feat of acrobatics Jane had ever seen.

“I do love a professional,” Garrus buzzed in her ear. She could hear the smile in his voice through the radio. Having disabled the ship’s shields, the only thing left to do was blow it out of the sky. 

Shepard pulled out her grenade launcher and crouched to load it. High on the landing pad but behind some crates, Kasumi made quick and precise shots with her pistol at the windows of the gunship, clearly going for Hock’s head. Garrus popped up from his spot on the opposite side of the platform from Shepard, shot a few strategically-aimed high-caliber rounds, then disappeared to reload. Shepard could hear them both muttering to themselves over the radio. 

“Take that, you bastard. I hope one of these lobotomizes you but keeps you alive so I can shoot you a few more times you sick fuck-”

“-turian design, weak points in the armor… here, here, and… here-”

Shepard looked up and hefted the grenade launcher to her shoulder. She waited for Hock to pause between his hail of bullets and the next round of pummeling rockets. She charged her shields, hoping to draw Hock’s attention. She popped up and rapid-fired, three grenades at once. She figured one or two of them might interrupt the barrage while the other snuck past. Garrus also popped up. Hock fired his missiles. But not at Shepard. 

“Shit-” Jane heard, and then Garrus’ radio cut out. 

-----

Garrus hit the ground. Hard. Something buzzed on the screen of his visor and his radio cut. Diagnostics told him he’d cracked a tiny part of the receiver - no big deal, he could weld that back together with his omni-tool. 

His combat HUD told him all three grenades Shepard sent off had hit the gunship square on. Kasumi cheered, loud enough that he’d picked it up without the aid of his radio. Safe now from rocket fire (thank the spirits) he sat up to take his visor off and quickly zap it back into shape. He thought he heard the commander yelling from pretty far away. Then suddenly she was right in his face. 

She’d lept over his cover and landed haphazardly beside him, then grabbed his shoulders with force that would have completely fucked his welding if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to stop. Her eyes were wild and her hands were shaking. Concerned, Garrus wrapped his hands around her elbows in what he hoped was a comforting grip. 

“Jane? What’s wrong?” He asked, thoroughly confused. 

“Rocket,” she said between heavy breaths from the dead sprint she must have been in. “You didn’t pop back up.”

Oh. 

“I’m fine,” he said, his subvocals coming out low and warm, the emotion stronger than he expected. He squeezed at the joint of her arms. “Just broke the receiver in my visor. I was fixing it.” 

She shoved him a little, clearly miffed, and knocked a fist against his armor. “You have at least two backup radios. What did I get you this stupid suit for? You and that damned visor.” She shook her head, but smiled as he pulled it out to finish the quick weld. 

“Guys! The Kodiak is almost here,” Kasumi called from above, leaning over the railing of the landing pad. “We probably want to get out as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Shepard said while Garrus gave an affirmative hand signal, and the thief disappeared.

Garrus replaced his patched-up visor and re-connected to their combat frequency, then caught Jane’s arm before she started vaulting over the concrete barrier between them and the stairs. The playing-pretend part of the evening might have been long-since over, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t see the bit all the way through. 

“Before we go,” he said quickly to her surprised face, “I just… wanted to say thanks. This was fun.” 

The commander’s expression was caught between amusement and confusion, a small, open smile showing while her brows furrowed. She looked away from him, blinked a few times, then said, “Uh, yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I’m… glad.” She seemed to gather herself, then looked at him again, smiling in a more relaxed way this time. “I’d say we should do it again sometime, but…”

“What, get invited to a high-class criminal soiree, drink their booze, steal their shit, and blow it up? I’m game if you are.” 

“It’s a date,” she said, winking at him, then she slung herself over the concrete divider and hurried up the landing pad stairs. 

His heart was hammering, all of the sudden. 

It was just a joke. Wasn’t it? 

Shit. 

-------- 

Garrus found himself back where all of this had started, staring at the Normandy’s meager selection of dextro liquor and mixers in the starboard lounge. He was alone, thank the spirits. Shepard and Kasumi were debriefing in the commander’s cabin, deciding the fate of the greybox. 

He thought about trying to mix up what Jane had made for him before the mission, but he didn’t really have the presence of mind to recreate it properly. He poured himself a glass of straight xin and sat on the couch with a huff. 

Over and over again, his mind was replaying that moment on the stairs, right before they broke into the vault. He’d frozen up completely, as nervous as a fledgling boy. He was damned near thirty years old, he should have been able to do something. Anything at all. Shit, he’d wanted to. Run a hand through her hair. Pull one of her legs over his hip. Try to find where she’d hidden that gun… Just to be convincing. To the mercs who were watching. The patrolling mercs that he had forgotten about as soon as she started kissing him. 

The door behind him slid open and Kasumi walked in, silent as the grave. She placed her greybox on her desk gently and sat on the couch on her side of the room, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on her knees. 

“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he started to get up. Her voice was calm. He rose to his feet anyway.

“I was going to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said, gesturing to his cup. She looked up at him and smiled faintly. 

“Pour me half a glass of that blue bottle up top, and fill the rest with the red juice in the fridge. I’m feeling like a party girl,” she said with a hiccuping laugh. Garrus couldn’t see her eyes under her hood, but he’d wager high creds that she was crying. 

He did as she asked and brought it to her, sitting down on the other side of the same couch. 

“Are you… alright?” he asked slowly. She took a few small sips from her glass before answering. 

“Yes. And no,” she said. “I’m keeping the greybox. It’s all I have left of Keiji. But… I don’t think the commander approves. It was a hard conversation.” 

Garrus nodded, staying quiet. He watched her wipe tears out from under her eyes. 

“She said it was my decision. But that Keiji wouldn’t have wanted me to have a target on my back for the rest of my life. That he’d have wanted me to live in reality and not in the past. She was right.” 

“She has a way of being right about things,” Garrus grumbled. “It’s pretty annoying.” 

Kasumi laughed again, sniffled a little. “I got pissed at her anyway. I yelled. What does she know about what Keiji would have wanted? She doesn’t know him like I do. Nobody does,” she shook her head. “But she didn’t even get mad. She just gave me a hug and let me cry. She said she wouldn’t judge my choices. But I don’t know, Gare. It just… feels so wrong, to disappoint her. She’s so…” she trailed off, at a loss for words. 

“I know,” Garrus said, setting his glass on the table. He leaned towards her a little, trying to see if he could catch the shine of her eyes. “Look, I’m not the best guy for this kind of advice. You know where loss sent me. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That’s something I’m… learning lately,” he admitted gruffly. “Give yourself some time. Keep it for now. But with the intention of saying goodbye,” he watched her nod slowly, clutching her glass with two hands and rubbing her knuckles for comfort. “Work your way towards being able to let it go, and then… I dunno. Blow it up over an ocean, or something. Jettison it into a star. Make it special.” 

Kasumi smiled at him warmly. “Thanks Garrus. That sounds… nice. I’ll think about it.” She swung her legs to the floor and set her glass on the low table in front of her. 

“No thanks necessary. A turian lives to serve.”

She snorted and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Right, sure. If we’re keeping score, you owed me, anyway.” 

“How so?” Garrus asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Who do you think suggested you come with us?” She grinned devilishly. “After you shoved your foot in your mouth on Purgatory I thought maybe you could use a chance to get back in the lady’s good graces.” 

Garrus’ jaw dropped. “Uh,” he scrambled, “Kas, we’re not, I’m not, uh,” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Could you hear the noises the giant bug orchestra in your chest was making when Hock was all over her? And when she was all over you?” 

“You could hear that?” He asked, panicked. Most humans could tell something was playing underneath a turian’s primary vocals, but rarely could discern the difference between one tone and another. Their hearing was simply not sharp enough, their brains untrained to identify the nuances. It was something turians could often use to their advantage in interspecies engagement: a facade of emotional detachment was useful in negotiations of all kinds. 

“I’m the best thief in the galaxy, Vakarian. I’ve got a few upgrades. Understanding how people feel is important in any kind of undercover work… as you know, detective.” There was an impish sparkle to her countenance that Garrus resented. There went the one advantage to being the only turian on this ship. 

“The commander has a… a partner,” Garrus insisted, echoing the language Shepard used in their conversation on the Citadel. “He’s my friend, too. I’m not interested in getting mixed up in that. You can read whatever you want into my interactions with her, but we’re just friends. She’s important to me. I’m loyal to her. She’s… frustrating, sometimes. That’s all.” He hoped that was convincing enough. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince the most. 

“Sure, Gare,” Kasumi said slyly. “Whatever you say. I’ll keep your little secret. But I don’t think it needs to be kept.” 

Garrus was about to ask what she meant when the door to the room slid open and Shepard stumbled in out of breath. He stood quickly, almost dropping his drink. 

“Jane. What’s happening?” 

“Another colony is being hit. Now. I just set a course,” she gasped for breath, then locked gazes with him, her eyes filled with fear. “Garrus. It’s Kaidan.”

~~~~~~~~~ That's the end folks. Someday maybe in another ten years I'll post more lmao

[vaxxman]

I've been reading the emesis blue screenplay whenever I have a bit of free time, and it's so interesting to see the small changes they've made to some scenes.

But also, the knowledge that Fritz was supposed to have visions of being mistreated in prison in that one scene when he has a panic attack at scout's house makes me go hhhhhh

[words-pics-flicks]

The great strength of the writer who has a good understanding of acting is an ear for playable dialogue, because words always need to be more effective in the mouth of the actor than on the page.

Alexander Mackendrick (On Film-making)

[jodielandons]

the miller's girl screenplay reads just like this lolita-esque harry styles wattpad fanfic i stumbled across in high school... yet somehow it was considered one of the best unproduced screenplays of 2016 and is now a major motion picture starring the most popular young actress of the past few years....

y'all write your stories no matter what you think of the concept! obviously anything is possible lmao

[hollywoodoutbreak]

In the horror genre, films usually aren't known for having great scripts. After all, the focus is usually on setting up the scares, rather than wowing audiences with good dialogue. Yet, when James McAvoy was first given a copy of the Speak No Evil script, he said from the very start, he found that the screenplay's character development was the real highlight of the film.

Speak No Evil is now playing in theaters.

[snowangeldotmp3]

been trying to get into the groove of writing screenplays again. not fully there yet but i do have these:

(all dialogue is taken from black widow 2010!)

[thatsbelievable]