#JJ Heller

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Sleep Well, Sweet Soul 💔

This weekend I felt myself missing Queen Elizabeth so I quickly searched for a few funny gifs to cheer myself up and then saved this post to my drafts folder.

I cannot explain why I (an American) was suddenly feeling down about Elizabeth's absence. She was only a human being, but she just seemed to do it so well. She was particularly good at allowing her light to shine in the darkness, and she held such sincere affection for her people. After today's massacre, I'm reminded of how important it is to take our feelings before God in prayer. Sometimes the Holy Spirit is simply prompting us to pray, to intercede on behalf others. Tonight I added songs by JJ Heller (Sleep Well, Sweet Soul) which I hope will bring you some comfort.

I miss Queen Elizabeth. I miss her presence on this side of heaven.💔👑

[dailyquotes6563]

Everything is sacred when you take time to notice.

JJ Heller, Big Love Small Moments

[searchingwardrobes]

Hymn Saturday: "How Deep the Father's Love for Us" by JJ Heller

Tagging @jrob64 @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose

[fragilewritersstuff]

When my world is shaking

Heaven stands

When my heart is breaking

I never leave your hands.

- JJ Heller

[smolgreybunny]

Psalm 37:23-24 | Your Hands, JJ Heller

[covers-on-spotify]

"Won't You Be My Neighbor?"

Original by Fred Rogers

Covered by JJ Heller

[christianblogr]

Who is JJ Heller

JJ Heller, a singer-songwriter with a voice that resonates with authenticity, has carved a niche in the music industry with her soul-stirring melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Born on October 19, 1980, in San Jose, California, Heller's musical journey reflects a genuine exploration of life's emotions. #JJHeller

Who is JJ Heller JJ Heller, a singer-songwriter with a voice that resonates with authenticity, has carved a niche in the music industry with her soul-stirring melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Born on October 19, 1980, in San Jose, California, Heller’s musical journey reflects a genuine exploration of life’s emotions. #JJHeller Who is JJ Heller Early Life and Musical Beginnings: JJ Heller, whose…

[rei-the-head-shaker]

Good night to you all, amazing people! 🖤🌙

[anjaliprimaveral]

Cowboy AU??

idk guys just random doodles

[serendipitygate]

Some music I like.

Hand to Hold

A book for the little person in my life.

This book was written by a musician singer and that I love. I love the sound of her voice. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PgGUKWiw7Wk

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Motherless Adults

In 1908 Anna Jarvis started Mother's Day in Philadelphia, PA, USA to honor dead mothers. Merchants siezed the opportunity to make a profit. Although Jarvis unsuccessfully tried to reverse the commercialization, it's now up to us. Regardless of your relationship with your deceased mother, use this weekend to remember that Sunday was always designed to honor her:

Carry her photograph or some other memento that reminds you of her.

Plant something.

Pick up spare change on the street, purchase a new box of crayons and donate the box to a shelter in her name.

You are invited to share your thoughts or memories here

[dailyquotes6563]

Big love happens in the small moments.

JJ Heller, Big Love Small Moments

[searchingwardrobes]

Battling Anxiety Day 609

Tagging @jrob64 @snowbellewells

[robinpixels]

He'd wait by the door after school

I'd come home whistling and next thing I knew

We were tumbling backward

Hunter and prey

Still nice to know someone missed me all day

[ritzy-reminiscence]

─♣️─ Lackadaisy : Shut-Eye²

⸝⸝ tl;dr : continuing on the shnor mimimimi headcanons from this post ! features the savoys, mordecai heller, mitzi may, and the lackadaisy band as a bonus !

🍺 Nicodeme Savoy + Serafine Savoy

I feel like, after trudging around in the bayous and the swamps and sleeping wherever their exhausted bodies drop on for most of their childhood, the Savoys are extremely picky about their sleeping accomodations.

Think of satin sheets, smooth as cream and fine as silk; embroidered pillows bursting with cotton and feathers; blankets upon comforters upon quilts; mattresses so fluffy and soft you sink into it upon contact. The Savoys demand the best when it comes to their beds, and considering their reputation around Marigold, I doubt anyone is brave (or stupid) enough to contradict their wishes.

And it would be alright if they actually slept in it but like .. they just don't .. well, most of the time, anyways.

Their evenings are spent not in their castle-worthy beds but rather in the Marigold room, chatting and smoking and drinking until the chickens start to crow. And even when Marigold ushers its last guests out the door, a couple dozen liquor bottles and boxes of party food somehow finds it way up the Savoys' suite, where the distinct beats of drums and gossip thrums in the room long after the sun rises.

Honestly, I'm surprised they can manage to go on rumrunning duty after getting shitfaced drunk the night (and day) before 💀

And when they do get to sleep, Serafine in particular really likes the windows thrown open to catch the nighttime breeze. It reminds her of the gales that go through the bayou when she and Nicodeme were lost in there, and as much as she hated every other aspect of the bayou, the gales specifically gave her a bit of comfort during those times.

Nicodeme's a blanket hogger. That's it. That's the post.

ALSOO ,, their room in the mornings is just . Eugh .

Littered with cigarette butts, burned-through matches, half-drunk bottles of gin and whiskey and whatever they could smuggle out of the speakeasy; pillows everywhere, the mattress hanging by a thread on the bedframe, and the sheets all nestled around Nicodeme while he sleeps on his back with his hands clasped together like a princess and while Serafine is 0.5 inches away from falling off the bed.

I just want to address a personal apology to whoever cleans their room up when they're gone because I know damn well the Savoys aren't doing it 💀💀

•☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾• ₊° ♣️ °₊ •☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾•

🪓 Mordecai Heller

On nights when he's on "Asa's Shadow" duty, I'd say that Mordecai wouldn't really collapse on his bed from exhaustion the second after Marigold closes down and he's free from all the musical notes and murmurs and shrieks of laughter that he's been enduring all night.

If anything, I think he'd really take the time to unwind and calm down. He'd sit at his kitchen table and drink some tea, maybe cook up a couple of slices of French toast to fill his stomach as he never really eats anything that's served at Marigold -- he thinks too many people have touched it and it makes him feel all .. icky.

He'd also spend just a pinch of time cleaning the house; nothing too big, just rearranging some books in the shelves, sweeping the floors and wiping dust off the windowsills and tables.

Oh, and he'd read books before sleeping as well. Thick ones. Hardcover ones. He wouldn't read new books or books that he's put off reading because of his workload, but rather one that he's familiar with. Something he's read so many times that, at this point, he could recite it cover to cover without needing to look. In his mind, it helps him relax and destress because of the comforting familiarity of the paragraphs, the unsurprising and mundane words that his eyes had glossed over so many times before, the feel of the worn pages that his fingers had held and brushed too many times to count.

(Do I want to be a book? Yes. Yes, I do.)

As being a tuxedo cat means getting hot easily -- and that's a massive yikes for Mordecai -- I think that he sets the blanket aside and sleeps without one during the summer. Or if the night is chilly enough to warrant the presence of a blanket, he'd use a thin one, or he'd just wear pajamas and a long-sleeved top.

And I'd say Mordecai sleeps on his stomach, with his arms all wrapped around a pillow. Something about the way the soft, slow breeze of the fan hits the fur his back lulls him into a slumber like no other. Plus, it keeps him from feeling too hot and sweaty.

Tl;dr : Cold pillows, cold sheets, cold room for Mordecai. Anything other than that and he'd much rather sleep outside than have a single bead of sweat show up on his body during the night 💀

•☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾• ₊° ♣️ °₊ •☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾•

🍷 Mitzi May

Oh honey .. Mitzi does not sleep well, that's all I can tell ya'.

In the timeline of the comic, I'd say that Mitzi rarely gets any sleep, and that she manages to get through the day with a conconction of the strongest coffee she could find mixed with whatever leftover beer she could spare.

Atleast, during the daytime, she has Rocky's shenanigans to keep her mind occupied. But once the sun sets and Mitzi climbs the narrow stairs to the third floor of the cafe's building .. it all just starts to unfold and her facade gives way to weary sighs and smudged mascara.

(Alright, that's enough angst )

On nights where it's not so bad, Mitzi would spend most of her time in Atlas's old office, talking to his painting and keeping him updated on what's happening. By this point his painting has become a diary for her, and although she knew it was stupid, she couldn't help but confide everything to it, as if it were a best friend. Even though his painting never moved, never talked, never offered any words of comfort, Mitzi always finds herself calmer afterwards.

Then she'd go into their - her - bedroom, and she'd start cleaning herself up. She'd do it slow, like it was her first time handling all the creams and washes on her vanity table. For Mitzi, this was when she really feels at peace. When it's just her, her cold creams, and the hum of the building's old heating system running in the walls. There was something in the soft, sure way she kept herself clean that made everything just a bit more bearable.

Mitzi likes to sleep on her side, with a huge pillow right besides for her to hold. Regardless of the weather, she'd keep herself under the covers. She falls asleep pretty easily, but on the nights where her troubles become too much to bear, she just stares at the lights of the buildings across the street, watching each window turn from gold to black, and play a little game with herself in which she tries to fall asleep before the light in the last window turns off.

Unorthodox, but it works everytime.

And in the morning, Mitzi finds herself with a little bit more willpower to carry on than the night before.

•☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾• ₊° ♣️ °₊ •☽────✧ ‧˚₊ ° ♣️ ° ₊˚‧✧────☾•

🎷 Lackadaisy Speakeasy House Band (Bonus !)

I've read somewhere that Zib lives in the same building as the rest of the band so ..

Let's just say their landlord hates them. It's bad enough that the sounds of their instruments creaking and groaning along the tight squeezes of the hallway was enough to drive anyone up a wall, but do they really have to rehearse in their rooms, too?

And don't get me started when they having a little (BIG) jamming session. Like, yeah, they sound good at first but eventually it all just devolves into a cacophony of god-awful squeals from someone's saxophone.

Zib himself sleeps on his bed (a thin mattress on a rickety old bedframe .. someone get him a proper bed please .) most of the time, but every now and then the band likes to crash at his room for shits and giggles.

Cue Zib tangled up with Sy on the floor, with Ben sleeping on the bed like he owns the place, and J.J. and Mozzie snoozing in the makeshift bed they made pushing two old couches together.

Hey, atleast they pay their rents on time .. right ?