Rosary bead tattoos

People see her as a trend or something to be a apart of, I notice a lot of new devotees are lazy and really not in it. They’re usually with her for a few weeks months or maybe even a year but during most that time period they neglect her. I’ve heard people say she wants to much… but honestly you’re just lazy and wanted to be apart of something. It’s nothing to put a glass of water, a couple dollars or candies. But you’ll choose to get yourself these things and not think of her at all. It really blows my mind of this communist of posers. Especially seen on TikTok comments a lot of people are like this. Many people have never even did a rosary prayer once. Not that tattoos are needed but a lot of people with speak of doin those things but never do. In reality your half way in and which is why the connection fails or you feel not called upon. Because it was never genuine. No prayers no offerings no words nothing. It’s truly sad pero así es. Shout out to the real devotees even without an altar it’s nothing to have a picture or necklace, bracelets etc.

hello! I'm a 22f from Ohio. I'm looking for some pals that have the same or similar interests as I do. I love crochet, tatting, and bead work. I also love to go thrifting and going to antique shops (currently looking for victorian era crochet hooks and books) speaking of victorian era I absolutely love the victorian era, mostly fashion, crafts, and the beautiful homes. I have many favorite animals but I love sheep and I love death head hawk moths. I also love tattoos and piercings (tattoos mostly) I'm also starting to get into marvel movies as well as legos! (thanks boyfriend)

Hi
So I want to buy a combination of Rosary that is almost impossible to find...
A thin Paracord and "Gemstone" (semi gemstone, like jasper, tiger eye and such) rosary.
I have seen a few on Etzy like this
https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1712666890/the-holy-family-paracord-rosary-made?sts=1&content_source=c5c960462243e66f0ed0e1cdfca1590c32dfee31%253A1712666890
But I would like to find more.
Why does it matter ?
Well, the paracord is for strength, it really is better than an ordinary nylon rope and should therefore hold for a long long time.
It is also better than metal, if you like to have your rosary in your pocket,.. metal can break after stress.
Why Stone... ? I like the look, weight and feel of it..... that is it.
I have seen Paracord in 1,4mm and 2mm where they put real stones on, everything over that will be beads made of plastic or glass or wood. (not he ones I am looking for)
Hope somebody knows of any with the specification I am searching for.
Thanks

And I have reasons.
First off the Dress of the Blessed Mother. This might seem minor but hear me out. The first testimonies by the three children (especially that of Lúcia, the most gifted of the seers) state that the apparition was about more or less 1 meter tall and looked like a child 12 to 15 years old, of extraordinary beauty. She had black eyes. She was dressed in a so luminous white that hurt the eyes. Lúcia and Jacinta tell us that her skirt (sic) was white and gold, with strings running from top to bottom and across, and was short, to her knees or a little below,and tight. She had white socks. Her coat was white and she also had a white cloak, which went down from her head to the hem of her skirt, with gold strings running from top to bottom. The jacket had two or three strings on the cuffs. She had a golden cord around her neck, which ended with a ball or a medal; she had very small yellow buttons (or rings – in Portuguese: "arrecadas") in her ears. In her hands she carried a rosary of white beads, also luminous, which ended in a cross. In the words of Lúcia, on her head she had a sort of "small basket" (in Portuguese: "açafatezinho" or, a "açafatico" which also radiated light. She never smiled. Francisco also said that she spoke without moving her lips.
A relatively short dress like that would have been scandalous in Portugal. What we see as Our Lady of Fatima today is not how the children saw her. It is in fact a representation of our Lady of Lapa.
Alot of the " investigators " thought it was the work of the devil, because no one could think that our blessed mother could dress like that. And we can compare it to Our Lady of Loudres for example.
• ⁠Santuário de Fátima (2013). Documentação Crítica de Fátima -Seleção de documentos (1917-1930) (in Portuguese). Santuário de Fátima. ISBN 978-972-8213-91-6.

1. ⁠The Investigation itself was botched.

"Fátima, one hundred years later Therefore, despite the abundant literature that Fátima has motivated over several decades, there is still much to be clarified, including on a historiographical level. One of the first questions is the following: under what circumstances were the original notes of the interrogations made to the shepherd children by the parish priest of Fátima, Father Manuel Marques Ferreira, lost? "
https://www.publico.pt/2017/02/12/sociedade/noticia/fatima-cem-anos-depois-1761166
There's more to this too.
"Fátima, one hundred years later For example, there are obvious textual and background discrepancies between the first reports of the apparitions made by the shepherd children in 1917 and the narrative contained in the Memoirs of Sister Lúcia to the point that some, including in the Catholic camp (such as the Belgian Jesuit Edouard Dhanis), allude to the existence of a “Fátima I” (the one in the 1917 reports) and a “Fátima II” (the one revealed, in the four “memoirs” of the main seer, made from 1935 to 1941), and it is also necessary to count, in between, with the visions seen by Lúcia in Galicia, in 1929 and 1930, in which she refers for the first time to Russia and its conversion."
https://www.publico.pt/2017/02/12/sociedade/noticia/fatima-cem-anos-depois-1761166
It's interesting to note that the Fatima Supporters slandered Fr. Dhanis for being a " modernist " although from my investigation, he was strongly orthodox, and actually was skeptical of Vatican II.
I mean like, if the investigation was done today under even the 1978 norms, would the church have declared it " official ? " I don't know.

1. Considering what we know about our Blessed Mother, it would be highly cruel for her to condone or mandate the type of extreme mortification even for saints like Jacina Marto and her brother to undergo, at such a young age. It would make our Blessed Mother... a sadist. And in essence, God as well. And we have to keep this in mind, the church didn't think these questions through, because there were people, who sought to use the events at Fatima, to take advantage of the political/social situation in Europe at the time. And so, as Cardinal Cejejeria said, " Fatima was Forced on the Church" His words !

There’s more I have.

Here we are again in the shit stew that is the Fallowveil trailer park. We’ve got soul eating strippers, jobs that kill us, and plenty of weirdos, both the trailer trash and the potentially paranormal variety. It’s the place where even your own computer sometimes threatens to kill you. I can’t tell if I should be worried, or annoyed that all my neighbors have such irresponsible web habits. I know it’s not me that brings in all these machine wiping viruses.
So even though I got a system error that literally said “you’re useless and you should die” I’m less interested in that. Stupid thing. Like I don’t already know I’m useless. That’s not what I’m depressed about.
Well… I suppose it's tangentially related.
I hope anyone reading will forgive me. I’m feeling the sting of rejection right now. It was really stupid of me to ask. Especially now. Nobody here really likes me. They’ve only been nice to me as a courtesy because I was almost involved in a god damn shootout. And my idiot self decided that was the perfect time to push one of my few friends all the way away. Never ask your friends out on dates. It ruins everything.
So there’s this woman. I’ve talked about her in the past. Trista Ramone. She lives in the far back corner of the trailer park. You can instantly tell which unit is hers because she’s covered every square inch of the property with gardens and a rabbit hutch. The place usually has beads and colorful flags hanging on its walls as well. She’s kind of a right winger’s nightmare. I know some of those flags represent various lgbtq plus communities.
She and I have been friendly in the past. We’re both night shift workers. We crossed paths quite a bit going to and from work so we struck up a friendship over the years.
Let’s just ripped the band aid off. Recently I’ve started thinking I had… stronger feelings for Trista. I got stupid and decided to tell her about them. She wasn’t interested. I get why. We have very different lifestyles. I like meat, and she thinks the meat industry is murder. I’m not willing to give up meat, and she’s not willing to give up her beliefs. It's as simple as that. Now things are incredibly awkward with one of my closer friends and I’m still spiraling into self loathing, where I belong.
She swore up and down that she absolutely still wants to be friends with me, but I’m not sure I believe her. The look she gave me when I told her I’d like to ask her out. It looked like sadness, but a small part of me is convinced it was pity, or worse, disgust and loathing, and that small part of me never shuts the fuck up. But anyway, she gave me permission to write about her.
She is one of the creepy fixtures of our little neighborhood after all. She told me to make her seem as insane and scary as I possibly could and that she should get to kill me at the end. She also handed me a few of her high school yearbooks, advised me to chat with another neighbor of ours who she went to school with, and to only use creepy rumors for the rest.
Part of me is really willing to describe her as awful, but that’s just my anger. I don’t like that part of me. Trista’s not a bad person at all. She’s just weird and she doesn’t want to date me. God damn it, Petunia’s right. I need therapy.
So, I’ve told the story of the sexy, scary lady living in a polycule here in the trailer park. I think she’s got a bigger heart than she lets on. I’ve talked about the stories surrounding the Schroeder Slaughterhouse. Now let’s talk about the hippy everyone thinks is a vampire.
She’s a taller woman, maybe five-seven or eight, and she’s skinny. Her typical wardrobe is… interesting. Try to imagine your typical new-age hippy/stoner girl, wearing colorful sarongs, crop-tops, beanies, baggy sweaters, T-shirts with colorful sayings on them, sandals, boots woven from some sort of exotic plant, beaded necklaces, bracelets, a few too many piercings and some intricate tattoos. Can you picture that kind of person? Well, take that and dip them in “goth” dye. Everything is black, and contrasts to her pale white complexion, her eyes are this unusual violet color, and then make the woman wearing all that seem kind of depressed about something. That’s the look Trista has going on. Like if Wednesday Addams was forced to dress up for Hippy Day.
I’ve heard people call her an emo vampire, but as a former emo myself, she doesn’t fill out all the criteria. She doesn’t typically wear any super tight pants or cake on the eyeshadow. I guess she’s just Trista. It might sound weird (and it is) but the whole thing suits her. Her style, tattoos, and complexion all create this image of skinny vampiric waif with a mysterious past and a freaky sarcastic attitude and I found the whole thing… kinda hot.
Trista keeps to herself. She’s made the most out of her little corner of the trailer park. Like I said, she decked out her unit with garden squares, and a Rabbit pen. No idea why she’s allowed to do that. A lot of these places don’t allow pets. I heard she was also trying to put in a beehive too, but her neighbors are fighting her on that one. Our park is a bit too condensed for bees. She has a permit to grow hemp, but of course it’s not for recreational use. She treats it and uses it to weave things like handbags, clothes, and other stuff. There’s a consignment store in town that sells all kinds of things Trista has crafted herself. So she’s handy and self sufficient too. She paints, she carves wood, she weaves, she crochets, she sews, and who knows what else. She’s so good at her little crafts that apparently she’s able to support herself just selling them and working part time at the Moonlight Inn outside of town.
She’s also relatively friendly. I almost feel bad calling her weird, but here’s the thing, I’ve seen some REALLY weird shit. People jokingly call her a vampire, and she seems to embrace that, but part of me seriously wonders. The big clue is, like I mentioned, she’s completely nocturnal. She’s always asleep during the day, and every blind and curtain is drawn tight. The one time she came out during the day, she had on this full body suit with a helmet with UV glass and everything. Even then, she only showed up to give Petunia a hug, before leaving again.
That was the first time I saw Trista, come to think of it. I was kind of intrigued. It was kind of hard not to be when someone shows up to a community cookout in a freaking astronaut suit. I approached Petunia after she left.
“Who the heck was that?” I wondered.
“MASON! I’m so glad you could make it! You’ve been here about three months now! How’d that job interview go?”
“Oh. It went well. I might be doing janitorial work soon.”
“Night shift?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“If it’s the night shift, you’ll definitely meet the person who just left. That’s Trista. She’s the girl with the rabbits in the far corner. Poor girl. She’s got a really bad skin condition. Can’t let sunlight touch her.”
“Oh. Is she like… albino or something?”
“No, she’s got pigment. I don’t remember what the condition is called. I guess it started in high school or something. You’d have to ask her. And hey! If you work the night shift, you’ll probably get to chat with her!”
Petunia wasn’t wrong. I started working as a nighttime janitor for a number of local businesses. That was when I first started noticing the pale goth hippy. She rides around on a moped, with her dark hair and her sarong barely billowing behind her. I couldn’t see her face through the helmet, but she waved to me as she passed by.
The next time I saw her, she was jogging, but here’s where it gets weird. When I first stepped outside, all I saw was a blur. It actually startled me as I whipped toward it, but then there was this skinny tattooed pixie, somehow still looking like a stonehippy/vampire in jogging gear. I swear she was moving inhumanly fast when I first noticed her. That was when we introduced ourselves. She actually jogged over to say hello.
“Hey! You’re the new guy right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. My name’s Mason!” I reached out to shake the pretty girl’s hand, like an awkward loser. She smirked and shook my hand. Her grip was weirdly strong, and a bit cold.
“I’m Trista. I’m the weirdo in the back with the rabbits.”
“Trista… oh, are you the one who has a thing with sunlight? I think Petunia mentioned you.”
“Yup! That’s me. Xerodoma pigmentosum. Sunlight hurts. I hate that it hurts.” She lamented.
“That’s gotta be rough,” I said sympathetically.
“You get used to it. You work at night?”
“Yeah. Works better for me.”
“I get that.”
And so on and so on. She’s pretty cool, with a bit of hilarious snark in there. And she secretly procured recreational weed she was willing to share. I kept working the night shift just hoping for another chance to talk to her and possibly buy a joint. Eventually she invited me over to share a joint. The inside of her place was actually pretty sparse and spartan compared to the outside. Though she was a fan of hanging beads. Most of the main room was taken up by her various crafting projects and supplies. Hemp weaves, some paintings, and even a wood carving of what I think was a rabbit, but it wasn’t anywhere near complete.
I followed her to her kitchen where she reached into the very back of her pantry and pulled out a shoebox. Inside was her stash, but there was something else which I found very strange. It was a pack of syringes and a thing I assume is to sterilize syringes. I know what you’re thinking, and that was my first thought too. It’s a poor neighborhood, the woman already smokes weed illegally, it’s not that big a shock that maybe she was involved in other drugs too. I decided not to ask at the time. We shared our joint, and we laughed, a lot. She made fun of me for being a lightweight, while I got completely hypnotized staring at the patterns of a shawl she had woven.
Months went by and we got closer, but I couldn’t forget those syringes. After a while I got worried. I’ve seen what heroine does to people. So the next time I went over to smoke and eat (vegan) pizza with her, I asked.
“Trista? Are you using anything other than weed?”
“Drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why?”
“You can tell me if you are.”
“Mason, sweetheart, I’m a stoner. I don’t fuck around with anything else and I never have.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Can I ask what that set of syringes are for?”
“Oh. In my stash box? Those are… part of my condition. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh. Is it like… embarrassing?”
“Yeah. So don’t ask. Can we just watch a movie?”
So I don't ask anymore. But I still have no idea what she does with those syringes. Based on what I read about that Xerodoma Pigmentosum thing she says she has, I have no clue what she would need to inject herself with.
Another time she asked me to check on her rabbits for her during the day, as her usual “sitter” had something come up. All I had to do was chop up the lettuce and carrots she left out. As I was enjoying the adorable fluffy faces, one of Trista’s neighbors, a woman named Bridget, poked her head outside her door.
“Hey. Do you know what Trista injects those rabbits with?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen her use syringes on those rabbits. She said she was just giving them medicine, but I swear I see her inject them every week.”
“I… I wouldn't know. She just asked me to feed them.”
“I love Trista, but that always seemed so weird. She has to know vaccines are a hoax!” I tuned the woman out after that one. My mind was on that set of syringes. Why would she be using them on rabbits? These things were her pets.
I was starting to crush on her by then. But I couldn’t help feeling weirded out by that. I was actually going to confront her, but the next time I came to visit, she was literally inside the Rabbit hutch, on her back, squealing with delight as her rabbit friends nuzzled and played with her.
“Bonnibelle! That tickles! Marcy! No chewing. Finn? Watch where you’re sticking that foot! Jake? Where are you? EEEEE Lumpy! Not the neck!”
It was as silly and adorable as it sounds. She was forced to whip herself upright when two of her little friends tried to burrow under her dress. She finally stood up with a laugh, cradling a rabbit in her arms and cooing at it.
There was just no way in hell this woman was doing anything that would hurt these animals. Bridget is a paranoid antivax weirdo anyway. If Trista was using syringes on the rabbits, I was convinced it was only for their benefit.
So life went on. I got more and more reclusive over the years. Petunia, Trista, and my next door neighbor Fred were the only things keeping me remotely connected to the outside. And so we get to now. So let’s see. What are the stories about the weird vampire woman?
Well, there’s the fact that she jogs at night, solo, in a poor neighborhood. Petunia keeps the shitty people contained and behaving for the most part, but I still wouldn’t exactly call it safe, especially for a young skinny woman. But she does it without a care in the world.
There’s one strange event that some people like to connect to this. I never knew this guy, but from what I hear he was a total weirdo who leered at anyone even remotely female. And this is despite the fact he was married. His name was Josh.
I remember him a bit. He’s the guy that Petunia chased away from one of her barbecues. Supposedly he was heard saying inappropriate things to the groups of ten year old girls that were playing in the bounce house Petunia rented. Telling them how pretty they were. Trying to coax them to take off their jackets. Police reports were filed but ultimately nothing could be proven. The guy's wife, Carole, always defends him for some reason.
But anyway, I remember hanging out with Trista one night a little over a year ago. She hadn’t gone jogging like she normally did. I asked her what was up with that.
“That weirdo, Josh has started catcalling when I pass his place. It weirds me out.”
“There aren’t other people who do that at night? I’m still shocked you jog alone.”
“Not like this. I can flip off a wolf whistler. But this guy… he keeps trying to get me to stop and talk to him, and when I don’t? He shouts about my ass. I’m gonna have to talk to Petunia about that shithead, if anybody can reign him in, it’s her.”
I’m gonna guess she never got a chance. Two days later, the whole town was awoken by sirens. I was getting ready for my shift when I heard them. I walked down the road a bit to see if I could figure out what was going on. The cops were heading toward the other side of the park, so I couldn’t see much. But I did notice Trista, in her jogging gear, skulking in the shadows. I wondered if she was in trouble. But before I could call out to her, she sprinted straight to Petunia's house and banged on the door. Petunia welcomed her inside, and that was all I saw. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, so I just shrugged and headed to work, figuring I’d text Trista later.
I didn’t learn till later that Josh was found dead. He was lying prone, face down, partly hidden by bushes at the edge of the park. His neck was cut open. He’d bled out rapidly. He had a knife in his hand, and officially it’s believed he fell on it and accidentally killed himself. There was a cocktail of drugs in his system so most people accept that explanation. But others swear they saw Trista out for her jog around the same time Josh would have been bleeding to death. She got questioned, and she swore she didn’t see anything. Without evidence, there was nothing else that could be proven.
Trista’s a friend. I know that guy was being creepy to her. So I’m happy to take her word for what happened, even if my seeing her going to Petunia’s pokes a bit of a hole in that. I can’t be sure it was Trista though. So I’m not saying a word. But if a certain creep attacked a certain lady who is rumored to be a vampire, it’s not that surprising to me that he ended up dead after bleeding to death. I’m not all that broken up about it.
I’m not the one spreading that story. Josh’s wife was the one who started the rumor. So now some people are even more convinced that the weird nocturnal hippy chick is secretly a vampire.
She’s no killer. No matter what they say. She would only have defended herself.
So that’s all the stories I’ve heard that have any credibility to them. There’s more people who swear she and Petunia perform weird rituals, and people who saw her moving “inhumanly fast” and such.
But now I have to share what I found in the yearbooks Trista gave me. I wasn’t really expecting much. I checked her senior yearbook out first. She looks about the same. Pale, goth, hippy, and sort of sad. She kind of looks even sadder in these photos if I’m being honest, but that’s high school for you. She graduated in the top half of her class, no sports or extracurriculars. I’m left wondering how she managed to go to school at the time of sun was so bad for her. I’ll have to ask her about that. So nothing really new there.
It was the yearbook from her junior year where things got really interesting. I was in shock when I found her. Trista is somehow impossible to miss, but unrecognizable all at once. She’s full of color! She wore more typical tie dye hippy attire. Bright vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, and yellows, in every photo, and holy shit was she busy. Captain of the soccer team, first chair flutist, president of the “green living” club and the “vegan alliance,” top ten in her class, it was all incredible. I think the main reason I didn’t recognize her was her skin. It was tan, as though she were out in the sun a lot. Furthermore there were photos of her playing sports and standing outside in bright sunlight.
It was like her disease wasn’t there, which confused me. She told me it was something called Xeroderma Pigmentosa. But that’s a genetic condition. She would have had that from birth.
I sent her a text, wondering about this.
- Hey! Just went through your yearbooks. What happened? You had color? Did you discover Linkin Park?
- My disease happened. Right at the end of Jr. year. That’s why I wasn’t there for the final class photo.
- But your disease is genetic… isn’t it?
- I guess it was dormant in me.
- So it just… happened?
- Pretty much.
- I’m sorry.
- I got over it. Mostly. It was hard. My parents were both hardcore vegan naturalists and we lived in a place that was all natural light and such, so I had to live in a shed for a bit while they built a space for me. But in my family? We kinda lean into whatever life throws at us. It took months of depression to come to terms with it. All of a sudden I couldn’t be out in the sun, and I had new dietary needs that absolutely required non-vegan sources. So I leaned into it. I was a vampire now. I can dig dark colors and “vampire style.” I could make it my own by avoiding leather. And I’d be as vegan as I possibly could.
- You’re kind of awesome.
- Damn straight. So I learned to love the night too and now, here I am.
I gained new respect for her after that. Frankly I feel kinda shitty about making fun of her for being a vampire. There might not be anything paranormally weird about her after all.
She sent me one more text telling me I should talk to a guy named Frankie. She’d gone to school with him. He’s a decent enough guy. Works in the Bicounty mall in town.
I had to wait a day or two for another of Petunia’s get togethers to talk to him.
“Hey!” I said awkwardly as I tried to figure out how to strike up conversation with someone I haven’t really spoken to in a long time. “Frankie, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Been a while. How are you Mason? You okay after that whole thing at Red Nights?”
“I’m trying to be. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You went to school with Trista Ramone, right?”
“Ol’ Boho Ramone? Yeah. We were sort of friendly. But I was a jerk to vegans back then. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been hanging out with her. She’s being all mysterious.” He chuckled at that. “She said I should talk to you to learn more about her… weirdness? Everyone thinks she’s a vampire now.”
“She’s totally a vampire. I have no idea what else to call her?”
“Why do you say that?”
“What did she tell you about school?”
“Nothing. She just showed me two yearbooks. Between Junior and Senior year she went from colorful club president, to lonely vampire, because of her disease.”
“Nah man. I don’t want to talk bad about her. But she was kind of a bitch, junior year. She wasn’t just a colorful vegan. She was one of those “holier than thou” types who scoffed and talked down to anyone who dared to eat meat. Her “hippy” thing meant she never hung out with the popular girls but still, she acted like she owned the place at times. I was friends with this weird guy named Steven Jones. He was just kind of a weirdo. Skulking around in the background, you know? He HATED Trista. For a while I totally understood. I thought she was kinda stuck up. But this guy was like… irrationally enraged by that girl’s existence. I guess he tried to ask her out when he was a freshman and she politely declined. But he took that shit personally.”
“Huh. So like… why’s that matter?”
“Because Steven kept saying to anyone who gave him a second look, that he was gonna ‘ruin’ her. Never elaborated. But then the last month of school rolls around, Trista gets assaulted by an unknown assailant and a week later she’s got this new disease. Meanwhile, Steven spent a week strutting around the school looking smug, and saying ‘she got what she deserved.’ Then he disappears too. Teachers said he moved away.”
“She was assaulted?”
“Yeah. Someone in a face wrap tackled her while she was at one of her protests at the meat factory. The dude freaking BIT her.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was there. I came to the protest. I’ll admit I was trying to hit on Trista or one of the other girls there. But yeah. Dude dressed in all gray with a face wrap just charged in and went right for Trista. Knocked her down, bit her like a freaking zombie, then ran away before anyone could stop him. Didn’t even take his face wrap off. It was freaky, man.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“That’s what we all said. Trista needed a stitch. But while she was at the hospital, I guess she started getting more symptoms. She was out for the rest of the year. From then on, she was like she is now. Total vampire.”
“Was Steven a vampire?”
“I dunno. Probably. Little dickhead is what he is. Must have been him that attacked Trista, but nobody could prove it. Bite mark didn’t match or something. So why are you asking? You hang out with her at night right? You asking her out or something?”
“Oh. No. Just a friend.”
That was all I really learned from Frankie. It’s quite a story, and it’s full of unknowns that Trista refuses to explain. So I guess I’ll let readers be the judge. Is she a “real” vampire? Or just a weirdo? All I know is, she’s totally standing behind me right now and now I’m dead. Bleh.
I did come back to life to talk to Trista once I finished writing this. She enjoyed it. I may as well include that interaction.
I went to her place on my night off. She read my take on her and what the neighbors thought and she grinned. “Ha! I’m a total monster!” She chuckled. “So. What do YOU think, Mason? Am I a vampire?” She cocked an eye and playfully gnashes her teeth at me, making a pleasant little click.
I sighed. “No idea. You’re Trista. And… you’re my friend. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”
She looked surprised by that. “Aw. Thanks Mason. You’re my friend too. It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Absolutely not. We’re both weird shut ins.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It made me happy.
“Yeah but I got the ‘mysterious vampire’ thing going.”
“You have dirt in your hair from rolling around with bunnies. And you’re a vegan.”
“Bite me.”
“Says the vampire.”
“You know, if I were a vampire, I could have bitten you when we both went to the slaughterhouses a few weeks ago.”
“That just makes me stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Mason. You’re not a loser either.”
“So. You know of any other good spooky town stories that I can do next?
“Oh, sure. You ever heard the tale of Salome? She was a witch who would mash up the seeds of a Sinapis Alba plant to make a diabolical potion she’d dump on herself. They called her the ‘Witch of the Sands.’”
I’m embarrassed to admit it took me four days to realize Trista was just fucking with me. I only figured it out when I looked up Sinapis Alba and learned that mashing the seeds just makes mustard. “Salomi the sand-witch.” Well played, vampire hippy…
Sexy Neighbor
Haunted Slaughterhouse

Continuing my creative journey experimenting with Rosary and chaplet what-ifs, after posting a couple months ago about using clauses and readings with the Rosary and on Monday a Rosary with a different mystery set for every day of the week, I figured that many Reformed in the Episcopal Church who are uncomfortable with Marian devotions might want a Rosary-like chaplet that doesn't have Marian prayers, so I adapted Monday's post to Jesus-centric prayers: The Jesus Prayer, the Fatima Prayer, or any Jesus prayer you want. This could also be adapted to the traditional Rosary schedule.
Please give notes and advice if you have any! 😁
[Updated PDF with readings.]
Introduction

CRUCIFIX — Blessing: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Then the Apostolic Creed.
MEDAL — Lord's Prayer, with the doxology.
BEADS — Jesus Prayer: Lord Jesus, Son of God, [clause,] have mercy on me a sinner. Amen.
MEDAL — Lesser Doxology: Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost: As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen..

Mysteries

MEDAL — Reading. Then the Lord's Prayer, without the doxology.
DECADE — Jesus Prayer, with the clause.
LAST BEAD — Lesser Doxology, after the Jesus Prayer.

Conclusion
FINAL MEDAL — The Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12): And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him: And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. Amen.
The Joyful Mysteries (Monday)

Introductory Beads … who increases our faith…
… who strengthens our hope…
… who perfects our charity…
The Annunciation Reading: Luke 1:26-38
Clause: … whose mother conceived of the Holy Ghost…
The Visitation Reading: Luke 1:39-55
Clause: … who made thy cousin John leap in the womb…
The Nativity Reading: Luke 2:4-20
Clause: … who was born at Bethlehem…
The Presentation Reading: Luke 2:21-32
Clause: … who was presented in the Temple…
The Finding Reading: Luke 2:41-52
Clause: … who astonished the Temple doctors…

The Healthful Mysteries (Tuesday)

Introductory Beads … who increases our faith…
… who strengthens our hope…
… who perfects our charity…
The Ministry of Healing
Reading: Luke 4:38-44
Clause: … who ministered unto the sick...
The Healed Servant
Reading: Luke 7:1-10
Clause: … who healed the centurion’s servant...
The Healed Daughter
Reading: Luke 8:40-56
Clause: … who healed the rabbi’s daughter...
The Healed Woman
Reading: Luke 13:10-17
Clause: … who healed the woman on the sabbath...
The Healed Lepers
Reading: Luke 17:11-19
Clause: … who healed the outcast lepers...

The Luminous Mysteries (Wednesday)

Introductory Beads … who guides our thoughts…
… who commands our words…
… who governs our actions…
The Baptism Reading: John 1:29-34
Clause: … who was baptized in the River Jordan for our sins...
The Wedding Reading: John 2:1-11
Clause: … who manifested thy divine glory in Cana...
The Proclamation Reading: Luke 9:1-6
Clause: … who proclaimed the Kingdom of God with thy disciples...
The Transfiguration Reading: Luke 9:28-36
Clause: … who was transfigured in radiant glory on Mount Tabor...
The Eucharist Reading: Luke 22:13-20
Clause: … who gave us thy body and blood...

The Cleansing Mysteries (Thursday)

Introductory Beads … who increases our faith…
… who strengthens our hope…
… who perfects our charity…
The Cleansed Galilean Reading: Luke 4:33-37
Clause: … who cleansed the demoniac Galilean...
The Cleansed Gerasene Reading: Luke 7:1-10
Clause: … who cleansed the demoniac Gerasene...
The Cleansed Boy Reading: Luke 9:37-42
Clause: … who cleansed the demoniac boy...
The Cleansed Mute Reading: Luke 11:14-28
Clause: … who cleansed the demoniac mute...
The Cleansed Canaanite Reading: Matthew 15:21-28
Clause: … who cleansed the demoniac Canaanite...

The Sorrowful Mysteries (Friday)

Introductory Beads … who enlightens our minds…
… to corrects our memories…
… to perfects our wills…
The Agony Reading: Luke 22:39-46
Clause: … who sweat blood in the garden...
The Scourging Reading: Luke 22:63-71
Clause: … who was scourged for our sins...
The Crowning Reading: John 19:1-5
Clause: … who was crowned with thorns for our sins...
The Cross Reading: John 19:16-17
Clause: … who bore the heavy Cross for our sins...
The Crucifixion Reading: John 19:18-30
Clause: … who died on the Cross for our sins...

The Natural Mysteries (Saturday)

Introductory Beads … who increases our faith…
… who strengthens our hope…
… who perfects our charity…
The Tribute Reading: Matthew 17:24-27
Clause: … who paid tribute by the sea...
The Withered Fig Tree Reading: Matthew 21:18-22
Clause: … who withered the fig tree...
The Abundant Lake Reading: Luke 5:1-11
Clause: … who gave abundance at Lake Gennesaret...
The Pacification Reading: Luke 8:22-25
Clause: … who calmed the waters...
The Arrival Reading: John 6:16-21
Clause: … who walked on the sea...

The Glorious Mysteries (Sunday)

Introductory Beads … who guides our thoughts…
… who commands our words…
… who governs our actions…
The Resurrection Reading: Luke 24:1-7
Clause: … who rose again from the dead...
The Ascension Reading: Luke 24:50-53
Clause: … who ascended into Heaven...
The Transmission Reading: Acts 2:1-4
Clause: … who sent us the Holy Ghost...
The Conversion Reading: Acts 9:10-22
Clause: … who converted thy apostle Paul at Damascus…
The Second Coming Reading: Mark 13:26-37
Clause: … who promised to come again with great power and glory…

[Followed u/mahou_seinen's advice to replace the Assumption with the Conversion of Paul and the Coronation with the Second Coming. Thank you mahou! Also anglicized some language and updated the PDF to include the readings.]

It was late November 2015. I was 51 and one year past my divorce (which was not related to cheating) when I became so disgusted with myself that I knew I had to pick myself up. I was alone for the long holiday, and although I wasn't really sad or lonely, I felt empty. However, I had some extra time to consider how does one picks oneself up.
I made a list of potential New Year resolutions that were individually realistic. Some were really easy and stupid like “have your chipped front tooth fixed” and “take & post a selfie”. These smaller tasks fueled my confidence and provided the energy boosts needed to tackle the more challenging resolutions, like starting a weight loss challenge at work.
Skip ahead to March 4th 2016. I had a Friday lunch date with a married client that I met two weeks prior. Of course, it was not a real date, as I wouldn't impose myself on a married woman, nor would I risk my career or my ego, especially if the signals she seemed to be sending were just a product of my wishful thinking, stimulated by checking off some boxes on the list on the fridge dated 1/1/16.
The following is my thank you note to her for a great date as well as for helping me check a lot of boxes over the past few weeks. I sent her a link to it as it is in the form of my first ever online post (one more check box, YAY!).
************************************** We were only 1 minute in the hotel room; her jeans in a ball on the floor. She sat at the foot of the king sized bed and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard. I followed as If attached by a leash. I landed somewhat awkwardly on my elbows between her legs finding myself squarely face to face with the tattoo. This tattoo, that she so shamelessly revealed just a week ago, the same tattoo that has been scorching my thoughts and the same tattoo that she promised me complete and unlimited access.
It’s been a long time since I have been here or anywhere near as nice as here, between the legs of a beautiful woman 20 years younger and far out of my league....even when I was her age. I took a second to drink in my fortunate situation. I admired her panties. All day I was so hoping she would wear those same panties as before. She didn’t. These were different but similar enough. The delicate lace and silk perfectly framed the tattoo on her hip. She did not disappoint. There is a fruity jasmine scent, intoxicatingly pleasant, and oh so subtle. It is not here. I’ll need to find its source. I want more of that. (I remember being thoroughly impressed and thinking to myself “This girl is good”.)
I briefly forgot that there was someone else here besides myself and the tattoo. How long have I been down here perving out on her? I wondered. I hesitated, and then apologetically looked up half expecting a well-deserved snarky glare. What I found instead was an ear to ear compassionate smile followed by a tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow that said “I like that you like that, carry on”.
With confidence restored that we were still in sync, I adjusted myself so that I was in a good position to thoroughly enjoy what I came to do. I kissed the tattoo hard and gave it a good lick. The challenge for today was “Taste the Tattoo” and I won. I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to. I continued to kiss and taste all around until every freckle got some personal attention. As I got to the upper most reaches of her inner thighs, I looked up to check in as I was about to cross a new line. For the first time she was not looking back at me but had laid her head back deep into the pillows, her eyes closed. I took that as a yes!
I marveled at the softness of her inner thighs on my cheeks as I gently placed kisses up one and down the other. As I kissed her through her panties, her hips responded by arching her up in anticipation of each next kiss. Before long, those wonderful panties were just getting in the way. I stopped and pondered whether to just slide them aside or remove them or to risk interrupting the mood and attempt a complete wardrobe removal as we were both still fully dressed except for her jeans.
I didn’t have to ponder long as she knew what she wanted and it was not any of the options I was considering. Still lying back with her head semi submerged within the pillows, she held out her arms as if gesturing for a hug. I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss.
Unbelievably, this was our first kiss. I found it odd that we had not kissed yet and was grateful she thought to stop for a moment to have a kiss. We kissed some and then I settled in to thoroughly enjoy it. However, the kiss to come was not the kiss I was expecting or a kiss I was ready for. It was a kiss that could ruin everything.
Technically, there was one kiss before. It was an awkward kiss 5-10 minutes earlier just after we entered the room. All in about the time it took for the hotel door to close behind us, she tossed her bag on the sofa, had her jewelry off and set on the nightstand while I emptied my pockets and silenced my phone.
We approached each other, and as we met I was looking at the place where the tattoo would be under her shirt and behind her jeans. They were higher cut and could not be pulled down that far to get to the tattoo. They would have to come off. To just reach in and do that would be an uncharacteristically bold move for me. But I did have unquestionable permission to have the tattoo in any way that I desired. I reached down with both hands and took hold of the waistband on each side of the button. I didn’t see her simultaneous move in at me at first. Just as I felt the metal of the button, I felt her reaching her arms around my neck and realized that she was tip toeing up for a kiss. It caught me unexpectedly and I think it showed on my face that it did. I tried to recover and moved back in to accept her lips on to mine but it turned into an awkward peck.
I scolded myself for the selfish moment and just as I was trying to formulate a recovery gesture, she, without missing a beat, gently dismissed my fumble and gracefully restored the momentum. “Oh” she said with surprise in her tone, while looking down at my fingers ready to release her button. Then, in a more playfully quizzical tone, she followed with “I guess you want to get right to THAT then” and she stepped back away from me where I lost grip of her jeans. She replaced my fingers on the button with hers, paused, maybe waiting for me to look up to her eyes, which I finally did, then flashed me a devilishly naughty smile and pulled her jeans down to the top of her boots. She then proudly announced, mostly to herself, “You really are going to let me have fun with you, aren’t you!” seemingly shedding any doubts in her mind that I would go through with this. She then sat at the foot of the all white linen king sized bed, removed her boots and jeans and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard.
Back to our kiss. The kiss that from now on I will reflect on as our first kiss
Responding to her hug gesture, I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss. I didn’t flub it this time, but again, I didn’t know it was coming, and prolly I should have. It took only ten seconds to adjust and synchronize to each other’s kissing form. It was warm and succulent and sweet and was wonderful. I really was surprised at how nice this felt. I don’t recall married kissing being this enjoyable. I remember saying to myself “Damn, this girl can kiss”.
I was on top, in a position that wasn’t going to be comfortable for as long as I wanted this to last, so I backed away to reposition but she held tight indicating she didn’t want me to move. I gestured at the space next to her and she relented. We then settled in facing one another side by side; her smile confirming that this was a nice place. We were hugging and kissing, pulling each other closer and looking into each other’s eyes. Our legs intertwined and our hands were roaming, but not really in a sexual way, more like trying to make as much body contact as possible. I couldn’t get over how I felt so much more familiarity than there was. What I did not recognize at the time was that this was the physical intimacy catching up to match the virtual intimacy we have been sharing online.
Soon the intensity escalated and it was getting very hot very quickly. The intensity and passion that was building was not something I ever expected or planned for. This was the rare kind of making out where accidental hickeys happen and inadvertent “Oh god I love you’s” slip out. Not that either of those was going to happen but my safe, non-committal no emotional strings encounter was getting too hot to not risk introducing emotions into the situation. And that could happen.
At some point I was no longer kissing her lips and mouth but was kissing her.
I broke contact to catch a breath and maybe get some control of the fire. We stopped for a moment to breathe and cool off. She slid herself on top and I rolled over on to my back to accommodate her. She looked at me with eyes that appeared to agree that it was a good time to slow it down. She closed her eyes and she seemed to enjoy that I was rubbing her back with both hands that I slipped up under her shirt. She presented her lips for me to kiss and then her cheek for the same, then neck and ear and lips again. Her long hair had fallen down around us, surrounding our faces like a vail creating a tiny private and even more intimate space. Inside here it was darker and the temperature and humidity rose quickly. We were breathing each other’s breath between kisses. All of a sudden I noticed that Jasmine was back. Not subtle this time, but deep and fulfilling. I loved it.
This fragrance stuff really works. The next morning just after waking up, I caught an unexpected subtle whiff on my skin under my watch and my heart jumped by 20 beats. Who’d a thunk it possible?
The passion was building again but since I was aware and cautious now, I wanted to enjoy and go with it. I thought I could keep it measured and I did for a while as it does take two. The kissing slowed to half and so did the passion. However, the rest of our bodies started to make up for it and the touching evolved into the sexual. She was still on top of me and my hands were exploring and squeezing on her panty covered butt, then under and in those panties. Her body contact became more targeted as she was now very deliberately mashing her fun stuff all over my fun stuff. The kissing subsided but replaced with the audible accompaniment of her squeaks, moans and quicker breathing timed with her mashing I was no longer in control. The passion was under control but being replaced with something intimately erotic.
I abruptly escaped by gently rolling her over on to her back then getting up and knelling between her legs. I took a moment to catch my breath and wanted to say “That is getting WAY too intimate. Can we get naked and have sex now?” However, I tugged at her panties and said something dorky like “can we take these off now?” Yes, we were still both fully dressed except for her jeans
Since I am the kind of guy who doesn’t kiss and tell, (well, only tells about the kisses) and this is not the forum for it, I am not going to talk about the sexy part over the next 30 minutes. I will tell you that we did finally each get ourselves unceremoniously naked and then the sexy part finishes where it started, with me finishing all over that beautiful tattoo. Of course I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to.
*************************************************
Cuddle time. Our snapchats leading up to this encounter were heavy on the anticipation and buildup but didn’t contain a lot of detail about or define what stuff would happen during our “fun” time together.
Me: “Ok then, tomorrow lunchtime, I’m in.”
Her: “OMG Are you saying that you are REALLY going to come here and let me have fun with you?
Me: “I’m REALLY going to come there. I am REALLY going to fully inspect that tattoo, as well as the neighborhood where the tattoo lives.
Her: “I so can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
Me: “WOW….Now that this is real and going to happen, my heart is beating so hard that I am afraid that people can see it through my shirt.”
Her: “You have to tell me, are you being SERIOUS right now? You can’t say this and not show up. It’s OK if you are teasing, but you have to say so that you are now….not tomorrow!!!”
Me: “I am SERIOUS and I PROMISE I will be there. You have gotten to me, BAD. All week with the way we have been talking..err..I mean snapchatting; I can’t get you out of my head. Then today with those tattoo snaps you sent; I can’t get up from my desk. LOL…..NOT kidding NOT teasing.”
Her: “I am BAD, and I like having FUN. I am going to have so much fun with you!!!”
************************************************
The only specific things I recall us acknowledging we would do with our “fun” was tattoo inspection and cuddle time. So as soon as cleanup from sexy time was done we both knew what time it was. For me, as good as the inspection was the cuddle was better. Just as during the sexy time we changed things up and we got to cuddle many ways. We started face to face full contact hugging just like our kissing time with some but less kissing and more being in the moment.
We were still hot (temperature hot now) and sweaty so that didn’t last long. She turned over and we spooned some. I was still craving full body contact but it was still so hot that we had to separate a bit. No contact spooning if you will, with just my one hand caressing her exposed shoulder and arm and hip with an occasional butt cheek squeeze.
It was about that time that we had our first ever personal conversation. On the project there were lots of flirty banter and some personal stories but almost always as part of a group. We had many phone calls and a few project meetings with just us two but never did the conversation get personal. Until now the only personal talks (Chats) we have had have been via Snapchat. I don’t recall who asked the first question of the other, but it was like a dam broke and we started filling in the details of our lives, our feelings and all the things we chatted about.
There was a lot to tell and we were giddy like children (child) best friends re-meeting on the first day of school catching each other up on our summer vacations. At one point she had something compelling to say and faster than a fish out of water she flipped back to facing me so she could gesture with her hand and punctuate through her expression. She landed close. Closer that I think she meant to at first and just a bit awkward I felt. But I was wrong. She didn’t back up an inch. I really couldn’t see her hand but I could feel that she was using it in the 2 to 4 inches of space between our chests. Her face was right into mine. She would lean back or up just an inch when she wanted me to see her eyes or smile or frown for emphasis, then settle back into the pillows with our foreheads or noses or cheeks touching. It was the farthest thing in the world from awkward.
If there was a recurring theme for the day it would be HOT; in every sense and synonym of the word. Again, it was getting too sweaty to remain that close. This time she broke contact to catch a breath and escape the heat. We stopped talking for a moment to breathe and cool off. She sat up, crawled to, and grabbed the (sexy time) clean-up towel that was at the far foot of the bed. She turned around so that she was kneeling facing me as she brought the towel up to her chest to absorb the beads and drips of sweat that had accumulated. As I watched, I again thought of my great fortune to be right here right now feeing what I feel and seeing the beauty before me. She pushed the towel down across her belly button and it fell into her lap.
I observed the soft sunlight reflecting off the white sheets, the white towel, and the white pillows bathed her in perfect light creating just a hint of subtle shadows in all of the right places on her angelic white skin. I started consciously taking photos with my mind. I wanted to capture every nuance and note every detail. I don’t know if I will ever be here again.
I don't recall if my next realization was comprehended in a split second, or if it took ten seconds to develop, but a terrible fear washed over me that for the first time in forever, she was beyond my touch and her next action might be to look for her panties or go jump in the shower. We were after all, deep into the second hour of her hour long lunch.
As I was preparing myself for the pain soon to come, I couldn't understand where it was coming from. I had the BEST DAY EVER, but I felt like an exhausted child who just watched the Disney fireworks finally and knows what that means.
What the hell? What is happening in my head? I don't even know this girl, let alone have feelings for her beyond she made my dick feel good at lunchtime.....and, I guess my ego is healthier since I met her. I have not cheated on my diet since she turned on the flattery the week before. I was sure it had to be somehow manipulative, but I hoped that if only a 5% chance it wasn't AND she liked me AND her mom was single, made it easy to keep my snacking to peas & carrots.
My self esteem has been skyrocketing too, as I have been checking a lot of boxes on my refrigerator. LOL, so many in fact, that I have been adding things to the list after they happened that I didn't dare put on it as they seemed pretty unobtainable just two months before. "Get sent a nude selfie, check. Have the confidence to send one back, check. Take a hottie 32 year old client out to lunch and fuck her brains out, check.
Did I just discover that I like girls who make my self esteem feel good more than I like girls who make my dick feel good?
Shit, that wasn't even on my top ten list. Smart, funny, pretty, Kind, whatever is the opposite of bitchy, fun in bed, boobs and/or an age appropriate figure is always nice, curious, someone you can trust to see you at your worst. Before today, "genuinely being a boost & support of my self esteem" was 10th.
Then BAM. I was hit in the face with the towel. Damn girl, I hope you can handle a spanking because I was just on the verge of making an interpersonal discovery of some importance over here, I thought to myself. I noticed the slightest or possibly mock look of concern on her face as she asks "you're not having any regrets or second thoughts over there are you?". I reflexively replied "Oh god no". Then with some emphasys, I continued "today was incredible. I REALLY needed this and you were PERFECT, thank you".
Again she did not disappoint. She crawled to the top of the bed on the far side and then to me over the pillows and laid down at a 90 angle to me on her stomach parallel to the headboard with her head nearly right on top of mine. She propped herself up a bit on her elbows and we kissed deeply. It was nice.
I made a few attempts to shake my internal drama, get out of my head and get back to my goal of picking my self up after my divorce. Oops, I mean back to pleasing a beautiful woman who clearly was not yet done having her fun with me. The emotional rollercoaster ride over the last hours, days & weeks completely blew out my brains ability to generate or absorb endorphins or whatever happens in a situation like this. Shortly after we had joked around while showering together, kissing goodbye (just like when I kissed my endorphin killing ex wife) and going on back to our separate lives.
I drove the hour or so home, brought my dog to the park and had healthiest and happiest cry I ever had. I don't know what I was feeling or why, but I was feeling again and it brought me much relief and contentedness.
We texted a bit that evening confirming that we each enjoyed our time together and agreeing that we should do that again sometime. The next day, Saturday, her husband took their 5 & 8 year old sons somewhere for the day. We checked in with each other again over text and chatted some about our lunch but the spark or excitement we usually had was not the same.
I reached out again that evening and asked if she was in a place that we could talk on the phone. She resisted but did call me (our first personal phone call). It took her 24 hours to let her cry bubble up. It turns out that our emotional experiences were remarkably similar, albeit from different perspectives.
She much later reveals that she felt emotionally dead for her hubby. She evolved to a bad place where she wanted fuck anyone but her hubby but still fucked him twice a week and had to appear happy to do it, killing her brain chemistry.
We rode the best and worst roller coaster in the world for 6 or 8 months....until the the Cocaine eventually wore off or the unobtainable became obtainable and it wasn't the the same rush for either of us any longer. She was the closest thing to a drug addiction that I ever felt. I never wanted anyone or anything like I wanted her.
My hope is that this story helps one person answer the question "Why the hell would he/she risk giving up their wonderful & loving family for an hour with a douchebag or a skank?"

I have a couple of questions, to give context i am a beginner I haven't set up an altar but i do pray to Santa muerte. I personally believe that i need more research before setting up an altar. Here's my questions (please feel free to be brutal about the answers i really do need guidance🫶🏻)

1. I live in the Philippines, although I'm fluent in english my mother tongue is filipino tagalog. Would it be okay to say prayers to her in Tagalog or would it be better in english?
   
2. I recently came to an altercation with someone (physically(nothing has happened tho but there were threats of me getting jumped, honestly im not scared but i am graduating and getting into an altercation would risk my diploma and a good moral certificate which is very imporant here)) would it be okay for me to ask mama if she can provide me protection from the danger im facing?
   
3. About santa muerte rosaries, is it the same as the catholic rosary? Or the placement of beads are different? Im planning on creating one if its different, but if not. Im consecrating the one i have here at the house and changing the cross.
   

Whereas my family members and friends do not have this problem and have grown out of it, I always have suffered from being afraid to sleep in the dark. I always need a night light or keep my door cracked open. It’s always been a weird thing for me. I’ve always been spiritually susceptible and inclined to spiritual experiences and feel in my gut that is why.
I’ve had instances in my past where I’ve gotten overcome with fear of the darkness while laying in my bed alone, only to have provoked some type of entity to try and show themselves. I’ve seen one apparition in my lifetime that was very hard to see, but I also knew was there. My bf at the time also saw it. Earlier in my teens I also dealt with spiritual beings.
I felt someone nudge at my legs and have even just “known” something or someone was there overlooking me. At first I thought the latter was my paranoia, as that is all I tend to experience because I try to pray and keep blessed rosary beads by my bed, but it is still hard sleeping in the dark even as a grown woman!

Awhile back I posted about using clauses (and readings) in the Rosary to help keep the mystery in mind while praying. Recently I've wondered if it were possible to have different mysteries for every day of the week than to repeat them all (except the Luminous) twice a week, which would also allow more Scripture readings. I couldn't really find much, so I created a three more mysteries based on the miracles of Jesus and changed the order a bit. This is a work in progress, and any notes and comments are very welcome. 😁
The Joyful Mysteries (Monday)

Introductory Beads … to increase our faith.
… to strengthen our hope.
… to perfect our charity.
The Annunciation Reading: Luke 1:26-38
Clause: … whom thou, Holy Virgin, didst conceive of the Holy Ghost.
The Visitation Reading: Luke 1:39-55
Clause: … whom thou, Holy Virgin, didst carry whilst visiting Elizabeth.
The Nativity Reading: Luke 2:4-20
Clause: … whom thou, Holy Virgin, didst bear at Bethlehem.
The Presentation Reading: Luke 2:21-32
Clause: … whom thou, Holy Virgin, didst present in the Temple.
The Finding Reading: Luke 2:41-52
Clause: … whom thou, Holy Virgin, didst find in the Temple.

The Healthful Mysteries (Tuesday)

Introductory Beads … to increase our faith.
… to strengthen our hope.
… to perfect our charity.
The Ministry of Healing
Reading: Luke 4:38-44
Clause: … who ministered unto the sick.
The Healed Servant
Reading: Luke 7:1-10
Clause: … who healed the centurion’s servant.
The Healed Daughter
Reading: Luke 8:40-56
Clause: … who healed the rabbi’s daughter.
The Healed Woman
Reading: Luke 13:10-17
Clause: … who healed the woman on the sabbath.
The Healed Lepers
Reading: Luke 17:11-19
Clause: … who healed the outcast lepers.

The Luminous Mysteries (Wednesday)

Introductory Beads … to guide our thoughts.
… to command our words.
… to govern our actions.
The Baptism Reading: John 1:29-34
Clause: … who was baptized in the River Jordan for our sins.
The Wedding Reading: John 2:1-11
Clause: … who manifested His divine glory in Cana.
The Proclamation Reading: Luke 9:1-6
Clause: … who proclaimed the Kingdom of God with His disciples.
The Transfiguration Reading: Luke 9:28-36
Clause: … who was transfigured in radiant glory on Mount Tabor.
The Eucharist Reading: Luke 22:13-20
Clause: … who gave us His body and blood.

The Cleansing Mysteries (Thursday)

Introductory Beads … to increase our faith.
… to strengthen our hope.
… to perfect our charity.
The Cleansed Galilean Reading: Luke 4:33-37
Clause: … who cleansed a demoniac Galilean.
The Cleansed Gerasene Reading: Luke 7:1-10
Clause: … who cleansed a demoniac Gerasene.
The Cleansed Boy Reading: Luke 9:37-42
Clause: … who cleansed a demoniac boy.
The Cleansed Mute Reading: Luke 11:14-28
Clause: … who cleansed a demoniac mute.
The Cleansed Canaanite Reading: Matthew 15:21-28
Clause: … who cleansed a demoniac Canaanite.

The Sorrowful Mysteries (Friday)

Introductory Beads … to enlighten our minds.
… to correct our memories.
… to perfect our wills.
The Agony Reading: Luke 22:39-46
Clause: … who sweat blood in the garden.
The Scourging Reading: Luke 22:63-71
Clause: … who was scourged for our sins.
The Crowning Reading: John 19:1-5
Clause: … who was crowned with thorns for our sins.
The Cross Reading: John 19:16-17
Clause: … who bore the heavy Cross for our sins.
The Crucifixion Reading: John 19:18-30
Clause: … who died on the Cross for our sins.

The Natural Mysteries (Saturday)

Introductory Beads … to increase our faith.
… to strengthen our hope.
… to perfect our charity.
The Tribute Reading: Matthew 17:24-27
Clause: … who paid tribute by the sea.
The Withered Fig Tree Reading: Matthew 21:18-22
Clause: … who withered the fig tree.
The Abundant Lake Reading: Luke 5:1-11
Clause: … who gave abundance at Lake Gennesaret.
The Pacification Reading: Luke 8:22-25
Clause: … who calmed the waters.
The Arrival Reading: John 6:16-21
Clause: … who walked on the sea.

The Glorious Mysteries (Sunday)

Introductory Beads … to guide our thoughts.
… to command our words.
… to govern our actions.
The Resurrection Reading: Luke 24:1-7
Clause: … who rose again from the dead.
The Ascension Reading: Luke 24:50-53
Clause: … who ascended into Heaven.
The Transmission Reading: Acts 2:1-4
Clause: … who sent us the Holy Ghost.
The Assumption Reading: Song of Solomon 2:10-14
Clause: … who assumed thee, Holy Virgin, into Heaven.
The Coronation Reading: Revelation 12:1-2
Clause: … who crowned thee, Holy Virgin, in Heaven.

Vaijanti Mala is a sacred rosary made from the seeds of the Vaijanti plant. The term ‘Vaijanti’ is derived from the Sanskrit word ‘Vijay’, which means victory. The Vaijayanti Seeds Mala 54+1 Beads in Silver, symbolizes victory over worldly desires and attainment of spiritual enlightenment. The mala is made up of 108 beads. These beads are strung together on a thread, creating a circle, symbolizing the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

In a fast-paced world dominated by hectic schedules and constant connectivity, finding moments of spiritual nourishment can be a challenge. Yet for Scott Francis Kushner, a devout Roman Catholic, prayer and devotion are central pillars of his daily life. With a steadfast commitment to his faith, Scott finds solace, strength, and purpose in the practice of prayer and worship.
Scott’s spiritual journey began at a young age, nurtured by the rich traditions of the Roman Catholic Church. From his childhood days attending Mass with his family to his adult life as a dedicated parishioner, Scott Francis Kushner’s faith has been a guiding light through life’s joys and challenges. At the heart of his spiritual practice lies the Rosary, a powerful prayer that serves as a source of comfort and inspiration.
For Scott Francis Kushner, praying the Rosary is more than just a religious ritual — it’s a deeply personal and intimate encounter with the divine. Each bead serves as a reminder of the mysteries of faith, guiding him through moments of reflection, gratitude, and supplication. Whether reciting the prayers alone or with loved ones, Scott Francis Kushner finds peace and serenity in the rhythmic repetition of the Hail Marys and Our Fathers.
In addition to his devotion to the Rosary, Scott is also a committed participant in the sacramental life of the Church. He attends weekly Mass on Sundays and First Saturdays, receiving the Eucharist as a source of spiritual nourishment and grace. He also makes a monthly confession on First Fridays, seeking forgiveness and renewal in the sacrament of reconciliation.
But Scott Francis Kushner’s faith is not confined to the walls of the church; it extends to the broader community as well. As a dedicated parishioner of Epiphany Cathedral in Venice, FL, Scott Francis Kushner’s volunteers his time and energy to serve the needs of the parish community. One of his most cherished responsibilities is taking Consecrated Hosts to the homebound in the parish residing in an Assisted Living Facility, ensuring that they receive the sacraments and spiritual support they need.
In a world often characterized by noise and distraction, Scott Francis Kushner’s spiritual practices offer a beacon of hope and a reminder of the importance of cultivating a rich interior life. Through prayer, worship, and service, he finds meaning, purpose, and connection in his relationship with God and his fellow human beings.

Hi, this is something I've been wondering for so long, and I still don't understand, how Rosary bead works? Because I pick it up and the chances of Angel room stays at the same percentage, can someone explain me pls