Jonas Nightingale / Aiding Angel

Per prompt HERE re: headcanons with a girl who only likes to see Jonas to be showered in affections / who knows what he’s up to and is acting all flirty and coy with him?

Originally posted by motherlegba

Eeeee let’s try!! My headcanons get a little lengthy (they really aren’t headcanons much at all compared to the awesome ones I see others write), sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind… I do really like this idea, though, of him being the one getting used… let’s dooooo iit.

- She was one of those free-spirit types; afraid of spiders and the dark, but not of getting into cars with strangers. There was no shame in her soul, but she had a heart of gold that shone brightly through the blonde in her curls and the sparkle in her eyes.

- She had wandered into a Revival one evening and caught his eye, but he knew right away that he was cellophane compared to her stare. His fancy clothes and silver tongue didn’t impress her one bit, and Jonas could swear he actually felt the Holy Spirit when she shook his hand.

- “What’s your name, sister?” Jonas loved greeting new parishioners, taking a chance to read their souls while meeting palms.
- Her eyes narrowed, and she curiously cocked her head to the side. Pink cheeks were smudged with dirt, and he noted how thin she was when she lazily held out her hand- he could tug her closer by curling fingers around tight about her wrist. “You can call me whatever, Mister.”
- So this was the game they were playing? With his free hand, he pat at her knuckles, and gathered up her fist in his. “Well, if I had to decide, I’d call you an angel…”
- He expected a blush, or maybe even a coy giggle: fat chance. Instead, a brow bounced, and she pat at the lapels of his suit while tisking her tongue. “You should count your blessings, Reverend.” Boldly, she took her hands back and poked a fingertip to his nose; “‘Cause a man of God would know better than that.”
- As she sauntered off, he watched after her, and chewed the inside of his lip. No shoes, and the soles of her feet were dirty. A bag hung low at her side, the pouch hit her thigh as she walked- he lived out of a suitcase and a bus, it was obvious to a like soul that most of her possessions were likely tucked away in that satchel. Her dress was long, kissed the gold jewelry around her ankles, and was sullied at the hem- how long had she been wearing that?
- Jonas wasn’t sure, but he definitely would love to learn what was hidden underneath… both that cool exterior and those cotton skirts.

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“Iiii’m hairy noon and ni-iiiight.”


Without knowing, we carry, each of us, with us somewhere deep some images of paradise.
If not images some vague feeling when we’re in some places; there are places in which we find ourselves -i’ve been in such places- where i’ve felt: “ah this must be like paradise; this is paradise; this is how paradise was or something like that, a little fragment of paradise”.
Not only the places, i’ve been with friends, we have been together my friends many times and we felt, we all felt some kind of togetherness something special and revealing and we felt -ah- we felt like in paradise.

Those brief moments, those moments; And that’s, maybe, what is all about:
Forget the eternity, enjoy, yes we enjoyed, those moments, those brief moments, those evenings. And there were many such evenings, many such evenings, my friends… i will never forget them, my friends.

–Jonas Mekas, As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty (2000)