Can Someone Help Me Find Asweeter, Slower Version Of This Song? Womens Voices Greatly Preferred But Ill

Can someone help me find a…sweeter, slower version of this song? Women’s voices greatly preferred but I’ll live if it’s a man’s lol

Despite her better judgement, the long days with nothing to do eventually lure Anne back into the jam room. She can remember a time (lifetimes ago, surely) when she was a wain brought to the music room to meet her instructor. She’d slammed the piano lid down on his fingers and was never again made to practice music, though at her mam’s knee she’d learned the spoons and sang in a voice that made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in talent, a plain voice given more to crowing than to singing. (She sounds better these days, but not by much.)

She doesn’t open any instruments or make any ruckus: she’s just wandering about, as aimless in her feet as in her mind as she takes a seat, reaching into the inner pocket of her coat. The other room seemed oppressive, somehow, but there was no work to be done to make up for that. She’d decided she wanted the sunlight to read by, and found it a quieter place here than in the galley or on the deck, with fewer prying gazes. When she’d borrowed the play from Bonnet’s library, she’d only meant to reread her father’s favorite line. Fix it back right in her mind, since she had both the time and the means for it for a change…

…but in the dirt-dulled sunlight falling in a slant through the port windows, Anne finds herself starting at the beginning instead.

In sooth I know not why I am so sad. / It wearies me, you say it wearies you. / But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, / What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born, / I am to learn. / And such a want-wit sadness makes of me / That I have much ado to know myself.

pretend i'm dead.

dialogue prompts from pretend i’m dead by jen beagin.

sorry. i’ve made you uncomfortable with my creepy honesty.

would you care for a bear claw?

if god gives you lemons, find a new god.

i’m going to miss you. i miss you already.

you’re not even here. where are you right now?

do you live in a commune or something?

i wasn’t born like this, you know.

what’s your least favorite word?

i’ve always felt a weird affinity for monotony and repetition.

i make my living as a thief.

you smell like hope.

let’s embrace our lone wolf status.

all i ask is that you try not to judge me.

i don’t think we’re done with each other yet, do you?

could you come over? just for five minutes? i’m freaking out.

that’s why i took so many notes. i knew you’d want to know exactly what happened.

since when do you care about dying?

stay. i’ll read you a story.

i read your diary.

i fully want to make out with you again.

i’m like, totally lost without you.

i apologize for the tragic ending.

loneliness is a presence you can feel in your body.

i don’t have anyone making deals with the devil for me.

there’s something supernatural about you.

i don't like being pushed around by something i can't see.

i'm sorry. i'm just joking around, it's a defense mechanism.

you are what you talk about.

feelings are just stories. they have a beginning and an end.

don't be so sure my family wants to hear from me.

sometimes i think you make this shit up on the fly.

were you hitting on me last night?

you run like you're being chased by a demon.

you've always been good at pretending like nothing happened.

you're not ready yet. but i'll be here when you are.

it wasn't your fault. you know that, right?

what do you say? can we keep each other's secrets for a while?

which secret do you want me to keep?

hearing about myself in the past is like hearing about some other person.

god, you have a mean bone.

why are you lying?

honest to god, does that excuse ever work?

stop stalling and look at me.

when are you going to stop mocking me?

everyone has some psychic ability. you have to learn how to see first, and then you just read what you see.

do you know what it's like to be in love with someone who hates your guts?

i said i majored in ___, i never said i graduated.

i'm getting you out of here.

i've been thinking about whether or not to tell you something.

you know, there's a support group for people like you.

you and i have met for a reason.

you're either an optimist or a masochist.

just me, myself, and i. we bicker constantly.

i'll be your friend.

it was only a week, but it was the longest year of my life.

you ever own your part in anything. you make everyone else wear your shit.

i don't want a relationship. i want retribution.

“You’re cold. Come here.” (from Teach)

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡

She’d normally complain. Normally bitch and grouse and moan, find any way other than following the order to see it through, but Edward has Anne at one very large disadvantage: he is well. And recognizing that is all the sign Anne needs to show her she is not. She’s quiet when he fusses her into the bed, mumbles a thank you when he wraps her in a blanket. She supposes, distantly, that she really must have been cold to be wrapped and held against him, human furnace that he is, and not overheat immediately.

Her eyes start to droop and she leans her head on Edward’s shoulder—misses it a bit for his chest but lays her cheek there all the same. Surely she just needs a rest. Right? Would he mind her napping on him like some overgrown infant? She ought to ask. She ought to open her mouth and ask. But Anne’s mouth stays mysteriously closed as her blinking starts to get slower and slower.

“Don’ let Jack know,” she slurs automatically, fear-trained in this. She can’t even keep her eyes open and she knows this, anchored while she drifts deliriously between past, present, and sleep by it: if Jack finds out, there’ll be trouble.

She nestles her cheek into his tit, breath tickling the inked bits of his skin as well as the scarred. Even adrift, it’s nice here. Comfortable. If she’s not careful she’ll say some really pathetic shit, like mentioning any of this out loud. Instead, she mumbles, “Don’ wanna be no trouble. Get back too it soon ‘s can.”

“You’re cold. Come here.” (from Teach)

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡

She’d normally complain. Normally bitch and grouse and moan, find any way other than following the order to see it through, but Edward has Anne at one very large disadvantage: he is well. And recognizing that is all the sign Anne needs to show her she is not. She’s quiet when he fusses her into the bed, mumbles a thank you when he wraps her in a blanket. She supposes, distantly, that she really must have been cold to be wrapped and held against him, human furnace that he is, and not overheat immediately.

Her eyes start to droop and she leans her head on Edward’s shoulder—misses it a bit for his chest but lays her cheek there all the same. Surely she just needs a rest. Right? Would he mind her napping on him like some overgrown infant? She ought to ask. She ought to open her mouth and ask. But Anne’s mouth stays mysteriously closed as her blinking starts to get slower and slower.

top 10 black sails characters as voted by the fandom: #5-6 Anne Bonny

That fucking island. Makes you do shit you don’t wanna do. How is it we haven’t figured that out by now?