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Hey!
It's Maggie.
If you're an old client, please call someone else- I've quit.
If you're with the movement, leave a message.
If your Biff- I want those shoes back!
-beep-
Leave a comment
a woman is more than a body
and love is more than sex
25 March 2012 @ 09:00 pm
14 November 2009 @ 11:03 am
Okay, so I’m going to hell for this… BUT.
03 September 2009 @ 09:18 am
“What do you mean she’s higher up?” Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes, shifting the car into a higher gear. “You’re a fucking angel Cas, I’m kind of figuring you’re a bit up there.”
“Look, she doesn’t accept visitors, especially hunters unless it’s the end of the world.”
Sam cut the angel off, “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure we’re there.”
Castiel made no attempt to correct or agree with him, simply raising an arm to indicate which way they were to turn. It was on the east side of Saint Louis, hookers were working even in the day time, eyeing the Impala, hoping for a score. Dean couldn’t help but eye them back, “How the hell is a girl as big as you saying she is, working in down-and-out St. Louie Missouri?”
“She works with the poor, the forgotten, always has.” He continued, staring ahead, “About ten years ago, it was decided a few forgotten gospels were to be written in accordance with yours being started. I don’t know whose idea it was, we’re told it came straight from The Son himself.
She and another were raised, charged to write their stories, their lives, just as Peter, Paul, and other apostles had.” He met Sam’s eyes in the mirror then, “yes, other apostles. We stop here.”
The house wasn’t exactly that, more of a forgotten shanty that had a fresh coat of paint and flowers in the yard. Almost a joke in contrast against the others along the block, the meth addicts next door, and the homeless man sleeping on the bench. “Leave your guns in the car.
All of them.”
They didn’t have to knock more than once and the girl answered. She couldn’t have been much older than either of the brothers, her red hair hanging in a loose braid down her back cup of coffee in hand. Castiel bowed, and the Winchesters stared. Sam was expecting some old biddy, as was Dean. Instead they were met with a beautiful middle-eastern woman, her skin dark, her eyes bright. Her t-shirt proclaimed St. Bartholomew’s fifth annual ‘hoops for hope’ fundraiser and her jeans torn at the knee. The coffee cup was for a local bank, and she laughed softly at the angel’s act of respect. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you outside come in, Biff would be here, but he drew the short straw on Sunday and has to work the first-shift at the kitchen, Father help them all.”
She stepped back allowing them to step inside, Castiel righted himself and actually smiled. “Thank you Mary; I know your opinion of this whole… ordeal.”
“Mary?” Sam turned to Castiel, raising an eyebrow.
“I go by Maggie now, it’s easier on everyone.” She waved the comment off and closed the door. As Dean stepped the cramped living room, stuffed full of notes and books of various ages and languages he looked around before meeting her eyes again. “Maggie Alpheaus. Alpheaus was Biff’s father you see, and you can’t really file tax return with only a place of birth as a last name.
Do you want a cup of coffee? Soda-pop? Miller?”
Dean grinned crookedly moving to the couch she indicated to, “Beer is great.” Sam nodded, and Maggie held her hand up before Castiel spoke.
“I know- I know. Though you should take Raziel’s advice…” Once again the angel smiled.
The woman walked into the other room, and Sam smacked Dean’s arm. “What the hell are you doing?” he sneered, “Do you realize who she is?”
“A total babe.” He may have been watching her as she walked away, still holding that grin.
“Dean Her name is Mary and Alpheaus is a Jewish name.”
“So?”
“Mary who goes by Maggie? This is Mary Magdalene” his voice dropped, “the fallen woman?”
“You mean the one who banged Jesus?”
A voice cut him off, pressing a cold can into his hand, “a stigma that even The Church has corrected, you’ve been watching too many films.”
Sam looked up, blinking a few times before taking his can, “So… it’s true?”
Castiel frowned at the two, “this isn’t the time or place for that. Maggie” using her corrected name, “we need your blessing, they need your blessing. Communion too, if you can serve it.”
She sat, opening her own Mr. Pibb, “you know I can’t do that Castiel. I won’t bless murder.” She took a drink, and nodded to the pair, “I’ve read about you, your ‘gospel’s’ or whatever Chuck is calling them. All those innocent lives, that girl…” she shook her head, “I won’t give blessing for that. And if that’s” she nodded to the angel then, “if that is what you want me to do Castiel, then I’m sorry, you’ve wasted their gas for nothing.” She stood then, and walked over to the door, “and you can leave as well, I’m no Joshua, and I can’t forgive all I’ve met yet. I’m still learning.”
“hey now- We haven’t murdered anyone.” Dean protested, standing as well, clutching his beer, “not on purpose anyway.”
“Then what are you going to do? Hmm? Why do you think he brought you here? It’s not because I’m one of the ten wonders of the world.”
“Maggie-“
“No. I refuse to bless the hands that take lives for the sake of it. I refuse to bless the lives of those who destroy other’s.” She stepped back from the door way, “So please, leave.”
Castiel took her order, and stepped out, Dean followed, mumbling something about how ‘no wonder Jesus didn’t bang her, even if she was a total babe.” Sam however, stayed behind, watching his brother walk down the path, still holding his can.
“What was he like?”
Mary paused, and looked up, meeting his eyes, staring at him, through him, in him. “He could have healed you. Taken away your pain, fear, concerns, made you pure as before you were touched as a babe. He could have fixed this. I’m sorry, but I cannot.” A touch on his arm and she indicated him to go outside and join his sibling, “I’m sorry Samuel. I truly am.”
That really wasn’t what he intended for the answer to be, and he stood for a minute, staring at the young woman. For a man who had impersonated a priest, minister, rabbi and on occasion, choir boy, Sam was speechless. Mary Magdalene just apologized to him. When he finally could, it was quieter, softer, “We’re not asking for forgiveness, just… a prayer. Lucifer is rising, and we’re in need of all we can get.”
The impala’s door banged shut as Dean got in the car, none too happy.
“I think that is your ride.”
I'm not sure where to go from here, but I've been working on it for a while.
There we go.
“Look, she doesn’t accept visitors, especially hunters unless it’s the end of the world.”
Sam cut the angel off, “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure we’re there.”
Castiel made no attempt to correct or agree with him, simply raising an arm to indicate which way they were to turn. It was on the east side of Saint Louis, hookers were working even in the day time, eyeing the Impala, hoping for a score. Dean couldn’t help but eye them back, “How the hell is a girl as big as you saying she is, working in down-and-out St. Louie Missouri?”
“She works with the poor, the forgotten, always has.” He continued, staring ahead, “About ten years ago, it was decided a few forgotten gospels were to be written in accordance with yours being started. I don’t know whose idea it was, we’re told it came straight from The Son himself.
She and another were raised, charged to write their stories, their lives, just as Peter, Paul, and other apostles had.” He met Sam’s eyes in the mirror then, “yes, other apostles. We stop here.”
The house wasn’t exactly that, more of a forgotten shanty that had a fresh coat of paint and flowers in the yard. Almost a joke in contrast against the others along the block, the meth addicts next door, and the homeless man sleeping on the bench. “Leave your guns in the car.
All of them.”
They didn’t have to knock more than once and the girl answered. She couldn’t have been much older than either of the brothers, her red hair hanging in a loose braid down her back cup of coffee in hand. Castiel bowed, and the Winchesters stared. Sam was expecting some old biddy, as was Dean. Instead they were met with a beautiful middle-eastern woman, her skin dark, her eyes bright. Her t-shirt proclaimed St. Bartholomew’s fifth annual ‘hoops for hope’ fundraiser and her jeans torn at the knee. The coffee cup was for a local bank, and she laughed softly at the angel’s act of respect. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you outside come in, Biff would be here, but he drew the short straw on Sunday and has to work the first-shift at the kitchen, Father help them all.”
She stepped back allowing them to step inside, Castiel righted himself and actually smiled. “Thank you Mary; I know your opinion of this whole… ordeal.”
“Mary?” Sam turned to Castiel, raising an eyebrow.
“I go by Maggie now, it’s easier on everyone.” She waved the comment off and closed the door. As Dean stepped the cramped living room, stuffed full of notes and books of various ages and languages he looked around before meeting her eyes again. “Maggie Alpheaus. Alpheaus was Biff’s father you see, and you can’t really file tax return with only a place of birth as a last name.
Do you want a cup of coffee? Soda-pop? Miller?”
Dean grinned crookedly moving to the couch she indicated to, “Beer is great.” Sam nodded, and Maggie held her hand up before Castiel spoke.
“I know- I know. Though you should take Raziel’s advice…” Once again the angel smiled.
The woman walked into the other room, and Sam smacked Dean’s arm. “What the hell are you doing?” he sneered, “Do you realize who she is?”
“A total babe.” He may have been watching her as she walked away, still holding that grin.
“Dean Her name is Mary and Alpheaus is a Jewish name.”
“So?”
“Mary who goes by Maggie? This is Mary Magdalene” his voice dropped, “the fallen woman?”
“You mean the one who banged Jesus?”
A voice cut him off, pressing a cold can into his hand, “a stigma that even The Church has corrected, you’ve been watching too many films.”
Sam looked up, blinking a few times before taking his can, “So… it’s true?”
Castiel frowned at the two, “this isn’t the time or place for that. Maggie” using her corrected name, “we need your blessing, they need your blessing. Communion too, if you can serve it.”
She sat, opening her own Mr. Pibb, “you know I can’t do that Castiel. I won’t bless murder.” She took a drink, and nodded to the pair, “I’ve read about you, your ‘gospel’s’ or whatever Chuck is calling them. All those innocent lives, that girl…” she shook her head, “I won’t give blessing for that. And if that’s” she nodded to the angel then, “if that is what you want me to do Castiel, then I’m sorry, you’ve wasted their gas for nothing.” She stood then, and walked over to the door, “and you can leave as well, I’m no Joshua, and I can’t forgive all I’ve met yet. I’m still learning.”
“hey now- We haven’t murdered anyone.” Dean protested, standing as well, clutching his beer, “not on purpose anyway.”
“Then what are you going to do? Hmm? Why do you think he brought you here? It’s not because I’m one of the ten wonders of the world.”
“Maggie-“
“No. I refuse to bless the hands that take lives for the sake of it. I refuse to bless the lives of those who destroy other’s.” She stepped back from the door way, “So please, leave.”
Castiel took her order, and stepped out, Dean followed, mumbling something about how ‘no wonder Jesus didn’t bang her, even if she was a total babe.” Sam however, stayed behind, watching his brother walk down the path, still holding his can.
“What was he like?”
Mary paused, and looked up, meeting his eyes, staring at him, through him, in him. “He could have healed you. Taken away your pain, fear, concerns, made you pure as before you were touched as a babe. He could have fixed this. I’m sorry, but I cannot.” A touch on his arm and she indicated him to go outside and join his sibling, “I’m sorry Samuel. I truly am.”
That really wasn’t what he intended for the answer to be, and he stood for a minute, staring at the young woman. For a man who had impersonated a priest, minister, rabbi and on occasion, choir boy, Sam was speechless. Mary Magdalene just apologized to him. When he finally could, it was quieter, softer, “We’re not asking for forgiveness, just… a prayer. Lucifer is rising, and we’re in need of all we can get.”
The impala’s door banged shut as Dean got in the car, none too happy.
“I think that is your ride.”
I'm not sure where to go from here, but I've been working on it for a while.
There we go.
28 August 2009 @ 04:35 pm
He is smirking sneering again. Dressed in red, red leather and that shocks her more than his presence in her dreams and nightmares.
For they are nightmares, the dead do not walk in pleasant dreams.
“Is this your dream Mary? Is this the future you wished for?” He laughed, deep and guttural and it causes her heart to drop. They’re standing on a white building, that… that cross adorning one of its peaks. “they did it, they survived for far longer than any of us will. We’ll all be no more than memories and that will still be here.”
The wind burst through the thin material of her skirt, pressing the back against her calves and she sits on the tiles. She wants to curse him out, to yell and be spiteful and give him back all that he did.
But… she can’t.
Josh… he… she must turn the other cheek.
so she does, and turns away from his and his searing eyes.
They both look down, and see a man carrying in a weapon through the front doors, and shots ring out, children cry, and he runs out again, blood staining the front of his shirt.
“That is His building, His sanctuary, and people still die. This is your precious Christianity.”
She turns away even farther, looking at the horizon, the dream-like line showing more andd more scenes, people running across fields of battles, men dying in His name and all the terrors that no one person should see.
“Come on Mary, aren’t you going to pray for me? Pray for this? It’s what you’re so good at. Come on…” He crouched next to her, too close, “pray for me.”
She closed her eyes, and actually did as he suggested, tempted, and mocked with, she whispered the first few lines that she and all the others were taught to pray, “Our Father… who…” the Hebrew words tumbling from her lips.
She didn’t open until a hand was shaking her shoulder, the candle light flickering and casting shadows on the mud-brick wall of the house-church.
The slave’s eyes were knit together in worry, “Miss… you were crying out again, do you need water?”
Waving the suggestion away she smiled, her older, more worn out body protesting at the gesture, it will rain later, she gave the girl a smile, “no thank you, I am fine, just an old dream.”
She closed her eyes again, rolling over on the cot. Praying that prayer under her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t return again, just as he had ever night before, just like every night for the last twenty years. She was tired, and just wanted rest.
“Thy Kingdom Come…”
447
For they are nightmares, the dead do not walk in pleasant dreams.
“Is this your dream Mary? Is this the future you wished for?” He laughed, deep and guttural and it causes her heart to drop. They’re standing on a white building, that… that cross adorning one of its peaks. “they did it, they survived for far longer than any of us will. We’ll all be no more than memories and that will still be here.”
The wind burst through the thin material of her skirt, pressing the back against her calves and she sits on the tiles. She wants to curse him out, to yell and be spiteful and give him back all that he did.
But… she can’t.
Josh… he… she must turn the other cheek.
so she does, and turns away from his and his searing eyes.
They both look down, and see a man carrying in a weapon through the front doors, and shots ring out, children cry, and he runs out again, blood staining the front of his shirt.
“That is His building, His sanctuary, and people still die. This is your precious Christianity.”
She turns away even farther, looking at the horizon, the dream-like line showing more andd more scenes, people running across fields of battles, men dying in His name and all the terrors that no one person should see.
“Come on Mary, aren’t you going to pray for me? Pray for this? It’s what you’re so good at. Come on…” He crouched next to her, too close, “pray for me.”
She closed her eyes, and actually did as he suggested, tempted, and mocked with, she whispered the first few lines that she and all the others were taught to pray, “Our Father… who…” the Hebrew words tumbling from her lips.
She didn’t open until a hand was shaking her shoulder, the candle light flickering and casting shadows on the mud-brick wall of the house-church.
The slave’s eyes were knit together in worry, “Miss… you were crying out again, do you need water?”
Waving the suggestion away she smiled, her older, more worn out body protesting at the gesture, it will rain later, she gave the girl a smile, “no thank you, I am fine, just an old dream.”
She closed her eyes again, rolling over on the cot. Praying that prayer under her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t return again, just as he had ever night before, just like every night for the last twenty years. She was tired, and just wanted rest.
“Thy Kingdom Come…”
447
04 July 2009 @ 02:32 am
...Josh
I can't still imagine this is how I have to speak to you, even now. Even after what all I've gone though, what we went though... now I can only speak to an empty room, and hope you can hear.
Today I visited a few non-denominational Christian Churches... all that Greek.
I don't know if I want to join one of them, or if I should stay Jewish...
or even become Muslim- even they talk about you! I don't understand why there is tension, but there is.
I look at them all... but maybe I shouldn't join any.
Maybe I should make my own way.
But it's lonely.
I miss that friendship, that brotherhood we all had. That... feeling of purpose.
It's gone.
...and I don't know what to do.
Is this all I am to do? Just, live a life?
It's not that easy, not after living a life of pure purpose.
Can I have a hint?
Please?
I can't still imagine this is how I have to speak to you, even now. Even after what all I've gone though, what we went though... now I can only speak to an empty room, and hope you can hear.
Today I visited a few non-denominational Christian Churches... all that Greek.
I don't know if I want to join one of them, or if I should stay Jewish...
or even become Muslim- even they talk about you! I don't understand why there is tension, but there is.
I look at them all... but maybe I shouldn't join any.
Maybe I should make my own way.
But it's lonely.
I miss that friendship, that brotherhood we all had. That... feeling of purpose.
It's gone.
...and I don't know what to do.
Is this all I am to do? Just, live a life?
It's not that easy, not after living a life of pure purpose.
Can I have a hint?
Please?
26 June 2009 @ 06:14 pm
Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone?
Biff stole a kiss at the grocery store, so... yes?
When you're walking, do you stop to drink?
I... well... no?
what an odd question.
Kill or be killed?
let those without sin, cast the first stone.
-I am not without sin.
Do you know anyone who has gotten an abortion?
I need to look this word up.
Do you like to spend time with people?
Of course.
Are you hungry?
nope! I just had a ice-cream cone. Wonderful inventions. Wars could be stopped with them.
Are you a forgiving person?
Yes.
When was the last time you did the dishes?
This morning! We just got a washing machine, it's amazing.
Have you ever thought someone died, when they really didn't?
..........yes
If you could be a superhero what would you want to do?
I'd rather not be.
Your name plus "ness"?
Maryness? What?
Are you listening to anything?
A coors commercial on tv.
Coors is... I should try this.
Where are you right now?
the couch! ^_^
Last song you sang out loud?
His Eye is On The Sparrow. :/
Last thing you downloaded on your computer?
this thing called AIM- I can send messages immediately!
Have you changed much this year?
Yeah.
Do you dress for style or comfort?
Comfort.
What's the craziest thing you've done?
Okay- so this one time, Peter's wife and I decided the boys needed to get the heck out of this town we were working in. Partially because they were going to kill us, partially because the water was making Sarah sick to her stomach, as well as half the other people who bathed in it... so we 'borrowed' their mules and painted spots on them, convincing them that it was some strange disease and we had to find Luke so he could look at them.
....of course we asked for forgiveness for lying after wards... but still.
It worked.
What are you looking forward to this summer?
Isn't it already summer?
If you could choose any fate what would you choose?
For him to be greeting me when I finally see him again.
..and not Him. him.
If you could have anything in the world, what would you want?
Joshua.
29 March 2009 @ 03:16 am
What happened at 10:00 am today?
Woke up. So sue me.
Where did you last eat?
BACON
27 March 2009 @ 09:10 pm
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26 March 2009 @ 03:13 pm
!Hero is a rock opera modernizing Jesus's last two years of life, as described in the Bible. The story takes place in New York City, in Brooklyn. The world's government in this near-future dystopic Earth is centered under the International Confederation of Nations, aka I.C.O.N. Under the iron fist of I.C.O.N., nearly all religion in the world has been wiped out, except for small occult and mystic sects. Only one synagogue in Brooklyn exists. Currently, New York City is a police-occupied warzone between ethnic gangs and small, isolated revolutionary groups fighting I.C.O.N. Of all the ancient world religions, only Judaism survives and flourishes, at least, as much as it can.
In Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, a child named !Hero (a derivative of Jesus, as described in the gospels of the Bible) is born and forced to flee with his family to the small Jewish section of Brooklyn. !Hero grows up and begins to preach and teach the principles of Christianity to the people of New York City, teaching people to love their enemies and care for each other. Immediately, I.C.O.N. realizes !Hero is a threat, and the Chief of Police Devlin, with the help of chief Rabbi Kai, conspire to end the threat of !Hero's revolutionary teachings.
The Opera is narrated by "Agent Hunter", a former I.C.O.N. agent who met !Hero and was soon thrown into prison for joining him against I.C.O.N. The three main characters are !Hero (a derivative of Jesus from the Bible), Petrov (a derivative of Peter from the Bible), and Maggie (a derivative of Mary Magdalene from the Bible). The three are also joined by Jude, a derivative of Judas, who conspires with Kai (possibly a derivative of Caiaphas, the high priest at Jesus' trial) and Devlin to betray !Hero. The storyline progresses through several stories about Jesus's miracles and sermons, using references from the Bible's four gospels, continues through Jesus's execution at the hands of an angry mob that I.C.O.N. turned against him, and eventually ending with the resurrection.
26 March 2009 @ 03:12 pm
Biff has been resurrected in the present day, to complete missing parts of the Bible. Supposedly under the watchful eye of the angel Raziel, who turns out to be more interested in the soap operas on the television in their hotel, Biff is made to write down his account of the decades missing from Jesus' life. During these years he and Joshua (which, as Biff points out, "Jesus" is the Greek version of, and thus in Galilee Jesus was called Joshua Bar Joseph) travel to the East to seek the Three Wise Men who attended Joshua's birth, so that he may learn how to become the Messiah.
Over a span of roughly twenty years, Joshua learns a great deal about human nature, and how he is able to translate that into his teachings. At each point, Joshua surpasses the Wise Men and their philosophy by incorporating his own beliefs into theirs. The story takes a fantastical twist on Joshua's miracles as well: he learns to multiply food from one of the Wise Men and learns to become invisible from another; however, his ability to resurrect the dead figures strongly into his first meeting with Biff when both boys are six years old. Biff, for himself, is sarcastic, practical and endlessly loyal. While it would seem that such traits, as well as the fact that he was the Messiah's best friend nearly thirty years, would ensure his place in the Gospels, there are reasons, as revealed in the final chapter, why Biff was essentially "cut out" of the story.
The recounting of Jesus' human and godlike qualities, combined with Biff's earthy debauchery, leads to its all-too-familiar tragic ending, but humorously explains many things: the origins of judo (a pun that is definitely intended), why Jews eat Chinese food on Christmas, and how rabbits became associated with Easter. The Three Wise Men, Mary Magdalene (on whom Biff has a childhood crush), Joseph, and Mary (Joshua's mother, whom Biff plans to marry if anything happens to Joseph) all have their part in the life and times of Joshua. Mary Magdalene is depicted as harboring love for Joshua, though in Moore's version Joshua remains chaste on Raziel's instructions (This in itself leads to some of Biff's debauchery, as he is literally attempting to go through enough harlots for both of them). Biff himself loves "Maggie" with the same intensity, leading to a revolving love triangle.
When Joshua is facing execution, Biff attempts to cheat the Romans of their victim by having one of the women administer a death-simulating poison to his friend (via a sponge of sour wine), with an antidote to be provided post-burial. Unfortunately, an over-zealous legionnaire ruins everything by stabbing Joshua with a spear. Biff, enraged, chases down Judas and hangs him, and then kills himself in despair. After he finishes penning his Gospel, he is reunited with Maggie, resurrected for the same reason, to start a new life with her.