2023.06.07 14:50 OrcWarChief How the hell are we supposed to manage Mana as a Sorc?
2023.06.07 14:50 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security
![]() | Patreon submitted by kiplet1 to redditserials [link] [comments] previous Table of Contents tends to crumble “The first order of business,” says the man at the head of the table, “in any face time we take with potential occupancy partners, we need to assess how the anticipated anchor’s gonna impact their appraisal and availability approach.” It’s a long table, a slab of wood the color of pale flesh, polished to a striking gleam that’s broken here and there by a phone or a computer tablet laid before this person or that, until down at the very other end of it, a couple of comb-bound reports bristling with post-it flags, a spill of colorful diagrams, a worn redweld holding a couple of file folders upright, a small black notebook splayed open, the wispy scratch of a fountain pen, APPRAISAL written in ruddy black ink, AVAILABILITY , then three sharp underscores. “It’s not,” the man at the head of the table is saying, “that we anticipate an antagonism toward the anchor, on the part of any potential partners?” His flat grey suit’s a touch too big, the collar of his soft blue shirt’s undone, his sparse beard neatly trimmed. “But by anticipating,” he says, “their respective stances vis-à-vis their individualized brand engagement profiles which, let me assure you, we will be reviewing in a thorough manner before we, we take up any,” he’s trailing off, “tête-à-têtes,” blinking quizzically. The room about them’s walled in cool sheets of green-tinged glass on all four sides and more beyond refracting, reflecting, shimmering desk lamps and fluorescents, computer screens, heads popping up over cubicle walls, turning, following the figure swimming up through them, one glass door after another opening before her, “I,” says the man at the head of the table, “excuse me,” as the final glass door swings open, she’s sweeping into the room, Ysabel in her long white coat. “I tried to tell her,” someone’s saying, a receptionist maybe, bobbing in her wake, and “Do you mind,” says an older man, halfway down the table, a hand on his phone on the wood, but she’s glaring at the very other end of the table. “How dare you,” she says. “Sorry, folks,” says Lymond, screwing the cap onto his fountain pen. “Think we might have the room a minute?” “I, um,” says the man at the head of the table, “we just got started?” “And we’ll get right back into it,” says Lymond. “I’m really looking forward to hearing more about this brand engagement. Now,” pushing back his chair, “if you don’t mind,” but already they’re filing out, shirts and blouses of dull green, milky blue, an intrepid puce, awkwardly around past Ysabel all in white. “Um,” says the man who’d been at the head of the table, in his flat grey suit. “Thanks,” says Lymond, cheerfully. The green glass door swings shut. “How dare I?” he says, to Ysabel. “I’m the King. A certain latitude’s expected.” “You could’ve gotten her killed,” says Ysabel. “They’re watching, you know,” he says, tucking a report into the redweld. “Go on. Lean over the table. Slap me. That should be enough to undo all his sacrifice secured.” She blinks at that, draws back. “Sacrifice,” she says. “He thought of it as such,” says Lymond, stacking up those diagrams, tapping their edges against the wood. “Now. Slap me, or turn about, and go home.” “Not until you explain yourself, brother.” “Oh, Ys,” he says. “If you would play at this table,” he’s tucking the diagrams into a file folder, “you must pay attention.” A wince, as he sets the folder aside. “We find ourselves upon a crux: the duel between the Devil and the Huntsman redounded to our favor, yet the wound’s but freshly healed. Any sudden shift might tear it right back open.” His hands, folded together before him, a thumb pressed tight against a knuckle. “Is that what you would have?” “I’ve seen the wound,” she says. “He nearly cut her through. The owr does what it can,” and she looks up from the tabletop to meet his eyes, one brown, one blue, both cold. “She sleeps. She’s been asleep since the Mason brought her home.” Leaning down now, both hands planted on the glossy wood. “I’m doing you a courtesy, by answering a question I assume you would eventually have asked?” A bitter something of a smile. “How is Jo,” he says, “how Jo is, I know how is our Gallowglas: loyal, and effective. I trusted her to do what needed doing, and she went and got it done. Now,” over her sharp intake of breath, “I ask, once more. You know what is at stake. Do you mean to stand against any particular point of our plan?” Leaning in close. “Slap me,” he says. “Or go home.” She steps back, she turns away. Before she can open the green glass door he says, “Take care, sister, where and when you might vent any further displeasures?” Looking down, at his folded hands. “Our tantrums are expensive.” “You’ve no idea,” she says, “what could’ve spilled from her heart, had his stroke been a whit more true.” She opens the door. He shifts his thumb. The thin line of a neat straight cut along the edge of his forefinger, sewn with tiny beads of dark red blood. He lifts it to his lips. “Um,” says someone, the man in the flat grey suit a touch too big, peering into the room. “Everything good?” “Paper cut,” says Lymond, waving him in. “C’mon, let’s go. Take it from the top.” • Well and I don’t know, dim voices floating up through floorboards loosely laid across the joists, not what we discussed, poets and junkies, epic, like some, there’s a mirror, there’s no one in the mirror, there’s a crack in the glass of it jagged, chased and dappled, splotched with gold, a spangled haze, such a history, working together, that didn’t work, a drip-drip trickle from the faucet, puddles on gold-streaked marble about the sink, but there, it’s gonna be epic, dust gone dark to grey, to black, a lump of it mucked up under the mirror, with the shreds of a burst plastic baggie, this, or this, or this. There’s music, too, loud but languid, strummed guitars, a melodeon, but she’s sitting up in the dark, her head in her hands, and there is no mirror, no light, no sinks or water, no marble countertop, but there is the dust, spangled, glimmering in the milky cloud of her hair, and still the music. “Well if we have to have a name,” says Gloria Monday. “It’s something to put on a poster,” says the woman sitting on the nubbled pea-green couch, one hand braced on the curled handle of an orthopædic cane, a big brown scaley purse in her lap. “Well if that’s all we want,” says Gloria, wrestling to one side a great stretched canvas, a twirling figure calligraphed in slashes of black, to reveal another propped behind it, the next wild scribble of dance. She steps back, behind a tiny silver camera atop a stolid tripod, stoops to peer through it. “We could call it the Lawn,” she says, snapping a picture. Straightening, she looks back and forth, from the painting, to the image of it, now on the enormous white-framed monitor behind her there on the worktable. “As in get off the?” says the woman standing off to one side, her long black coat done up with brightly silver buttons, and a little grey snap-brim hat on her head. “That’s not what we discussed,” says Anna in her houndstooth trousers, narrow black-rimmed glasses glaring in the light. “The house,” says Gloria, taking hold of the canvas. “Run-down and falling apart and poets and junkies and twenty bedrooms to one bathroom and full of,” lifting, “epic,” hoisting it aside, “legend, and, and art,” to reveal the next. “The Lawn,” says Gloria Monday. Her feet are bare, laddered tights printed with overlapping gears, her vast white T-shirt says Robot Fightin’ Boots. “I liked Weatherall’s,” says Anna. “If we’re going to change it.” “Yeah, well,” says Gloria, stooping behind the camera again. “Sounds like some Harry Potter shit,” says the woman in the long black coat. “Jilting of,” says Gloria, snapping another picture. “Granny Weatherall? Been a while, since you been in high school?” The woman on the couch snorts up a laugh, sits up, hefting her cane. “How about,” she says, pointing the wide rubber foot of it out, toward the cavernous space beyond, “this building,” the boxes, equipment, the bulks of whatever it is under tarps shoved off to either side, stacked in the stalls that one by one march down the long high walls, “the history,” soaked in soft grey light depending from up under the rafters, the windows there scrubbed clean of filth, scraped clear of paint, “a name should honor that.” “It was a warehouse for vegetables,” says Gloria. “A farmers’ market,” says the woman on the couch, “built by Italian immigrants, working together. Cooperatively.” “Snot Market,” says Gloria, “Grime Market, that didn’t work,” grabbing the next canvas, “Pus Market has a certain punch,” hauling it aside, “but Anna didn’t like any of those, and anyway it’s antique punk bullshit. Effluvial Plane I kinda liked, but that’s too, much, y’know?” “How old are you?” says the woman all in black. “Fuck you,” says Gloria. “That’s how old I am.” “Gloria,” says Anna. “No, fuck this,” snarls Gloria. “We got the space. We’re doing the thing. It’s gonna be epic. And you can either get on board, get your, people, involved,” the woman on the couch, clutching her purse, “you can write about it like you know what’s gonna happen,” the woman all in black, hands in her pockets, smirking, “or you can scramble to catch up after, like everyone else.” “Ms. Thorpe, we must apologize,” says Anna, after a moment, but “No, no,” says the woman all in black, “tempers run hot and you let them out and that’s fine, and then you stop and you take a deep breath and you think. Maybe you do this, or maybe tomorrow you’re kicked out for squatting. You don’t – ” “Hey, Anna!” says Gloria. “What’s the owner got to say, about us being here?” “There are no objections,” says Anna, but Thorpe looks away, rolling her eyes. “I did my homework,” she says, lifting her little grey hat, “or I wouldn’t be here at all,” scratching her head, her dark hair short, swept back. “You’re Suzette Wilson, you’re Tom Wilson’s daughter, and I’m sorry for your loss, but the title to this pile is hardly as clear-cut as,” but Gloria’s saying, “This, this is my place,” as Thorpe says “that’s before we even get into the questions of insurance, and zoning, and inspections,” but Gloria’s shouting “S1! Last Thursday! The Teahouse! You think they waited around for fucking paperwork?” Anna and the woman on the couch, watching them both, Gloria seething, Thorpe settling her hat on her head, “Well,” she’s saying, tucking her hands in the pockets of her coat, “S1 is street-legal now, yeah, and the Teahouse? That was in Sellwood? Long gone. And you have any idea how much the merchants on Alberta pay the city for extra cops?” A shrug, and that smirk warms to something more sympathetic. “You want to beg forgiveness instead of ask permission and I can respect that, but there’s this delicate balance. You gotta be big enough to get noticed, but you can’t be so big you get noticed, you know?” Looking out, over the cavernous space below. “And all this you want to do in a week.” Turning back, hands spread in a hapless shrug, a burble of sound, “I like you,” she says, “I do, I like the idea,” looking up. It sounds like someone’s singing up there. Up there, up at the edge of the planks laid across the joists, up by the brief ladder bolted to the wall a couple of long bare legs kicked over and orange underpants, ee, ee-oh nor, the keening voice a grunt, doo da-da dee, doo da-da dee, down the ladder to the walkway up there, a wild mad cloud of white-gold hair, “and quickly was received, enthusiastically,” and Thorpe looks down, over at the paintings leaned, at the image on the enormous monitor. “Some say that it had more to do with her,” the singer’s making her way, hand on the railing, “improper sense of dress, than her talent, or her diligence,” opening a door up there, painted with letters that possibly once said Ranchers, or Gardeners, and closing it muffles her song. “I’m sorry,” says Anna, drawing back their attention. “It seems Marfisa forgot we were meeting this morning.” “I’ve seen,” says Thorpe, “I’ve heard her, before.” “Salt and Straw,” says the woman on the couch, but then, lifting a finger, “no, that’s the ice cream.” “She kinda came with the place,” says Gloria. Up there a crash of water, flushing, that door opens, Marfisa’s stepping out, “Cartier Bresson!” she shouts. “Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, George Bataille,” as she’s making her way back along the wall above them. “Their misogyny really irritated her, but she wasn’t, she,” stopping, standing there, wavering a little, looking down at them. Absently scratching just beneath a breast, and sunlight flashing from the gold dust spangling her skin. “I heard you play once,” says Thorpe, abruptly. Her wide smile spreading, Marfisa tips back her white-gold head, “Lee, ee-oh nor!” she sings, reaching for the ladder. “Lee, ee-oh nor!” Climbing back up toward the makeshift floor above. “Stone and Salt!” says the woman on the couch. “That was it.” • Ding the microwave, she opens the door of it, reaches in with a hot pad for a steaming pink mug that says Sophia & Dorothy & Blanche & Rose. In she dunks a purple octopus infuser, dandling its delicate chain a moment. Color blooms. Out of the kitchen, across the living room, dark wood paneling, grey-green shag, shuff and snap of her slippers into a nook of a hall, too brightly lit. She nudges open a door left ajar, into a small dark room lit only by sunlight staining the edges of heavy curtains drawn, and almost entirely filled by a great wide bed. “I’ve brought tea,” she says, setting the mug on the nightstand in the corner. “Hey.” Sitting on the edge of the bed. “I called Reg,” she says, reaching along the margin of the thick dark comforter, and a gentle stroke for the blond head there, turned away. “Told him we’d need another week. He wasn’t happy, but hey. Fuck him.” Tucking a lock of her own hair, as blond, as straight, behind her ear. “Chrissie,” she says. “Chér.” “I don’t want any tea.” “Yeah, well,” says Ettie, and she gets to her feet with a sigh. “This would be why I stick with men. They can’t break your heart.” • The door swings open, for a moment all’s revealed, scarred floor and drifts of grit against the bar, peeling dimpled paint along the front of it and its cracked vinyl bumper, dust furring the bottles along the top shelf, the washed-out flyspecked neon lights, the bartender, spiky hair flared palely to a golden brown, hand up against the raw daylight, skinny arm festooned with shadowy tattoos, “Jacks?” says Jessie, blinking, but the light’s swallowed away as the door swings shut, and dimness closes about the warm neon, the sparkle of glass, the rattle of drums and a couple of jangled chords, bubbling bass, “Jackie?” says the bartender, his hair gone black. “Ah, naw. She ain’t here.” “Oh,” says Jessie, in her puffy pink parka. “Sorry. I thought,” and she shakes her head, Americans were thus denied, someone’s singing, with the guitar and the drums, all right to travel to the other side. “She usually works mornings,” says Jessie. “Any idea when she’s in next?” “No, see,” says the bartender, “I mean, she’s not here? Anymore?” Folding those skinny arms, leaning his elbows on the bar. “And we can’t be giving out people’s schedules, come on. Basic security.” “I’m a friend,” says Jessie, and then, “I used to dance here? About a year, year and a half ago. Went by Rain?” “If you’re a friend,” says the bartender, “I mean, she left, what, right after the holidays? Two, three months ago? So, I mean,” and he spreads his hands. “Want something to drink?” “Where’d she go?” says Jessie. “I don’t know, Eugene or something? But even if I did I couldn’t tell you, because, security, you know. Coffee? Anything?” Betcha my life, there’d be no violence there, and she opens her mouth to speak but everything lights up again, washed out, as the door swings open, two women, raincoat, trench coat, gym bag and backpack, nodding to the bartender who waves hello as they head through empty tables past the empty little stage, toward the nondescript door back there. “How about Chilli,” says Jessie. “He back there?” “He, naw, Chilli, we’re,” the bartender jumps as she walks away, “we’re under new management,” he calls after her, “so,” but there’s confusion by that nondescript door as it opens, those women stepping through around and past a man who’s stepping out, brown leather vest and rich red hair flopping from a widow’s peak, “I need you to,” the bartender’s saying. Jessie waves him off. “It’s Gaveston,” she says. “I know Gav.” But Gaveston’s holding the door for someone else, a tall woman in a white track suit, short hair greenly yellow, and Jessie stops short, in the midst of the empty tables. “Chariot?” she says. The tall woman’s saying something to Gaveston, as she heads off past the little stage. “Iona?” says Jessie, and the tall woman looks over to see her there in pink. “Oh,” she says, stopped short. “Rain.” “Is she here?” says Jessie. “The,” a cough, “the Princess? Uh, Queen? Ysabel?” Iona’s shaking her head, “I’m merely here on her behalf,” she says, stepping away, but “Iona,” says Jessie, “Chariot, tell her, please,” and Iona stops, looks back. “Yes?” she says. Jessie looks away. “Nothing,” she says. “Don’t tell her anything. Not even, that you saw me.” “As you wish,” says Iona. Jessie’s still looking away, there among the empty tables. I’d want the giddy-up, the guitar jangles, I’d want to live it up, I’d want the pick-me-up, and the nondescript door back there’s now shut. The bartender isn’t behind the bar that flares, scoured once more by daylight as Iona opens the door outside. She steps through, the door swings shut, the darkness returns. • Nox Sea Raid say the letters punched in light across the screen. Choose Your Squad swooshes in below. A husky contralto says Set em up Sarge over the speakers, and the guy on the beanbag thumbs and clicks the controller in his lap, wheeling the view on the screen about a motley crew of centaurs, each stepping up to present arms as the focus settles fleetingly on them, uttering a catch-phrase, Rock an roll, rack em and pack em, they will fear my song, buzzbombs why’s it have to be buzzbombs, reportin for beauty! rock an rack em rock an pack em why’s it have to fear my rock an roll an reportin! “This is gonna suck,” says the guy on the beanbag, “I need more’n one tank for this.” Wrinkles about his eyes and gingery stubble along his jaw. “Whaddaya think,” he says, looking away from the screen, “would a Mixolydian,” but there’s nobody beside him, there’s a man headed away, over toward the grand dark staircase, dodging around a dark wood column, his sweater bulky, red, he’s looking up to the woman stopped there on the stairs, black trousers, a bowtie unclipped about her winged collar. “Long as he needs,” she’s saying, and “Oh,” says the guy on the beanbag, turning back to the screen, “Ellen’s home.” Clicking through the figures on the screen, rock an roll, reportin for beauty, they will fear, “The hell was he doing, wearing my shirt?” and the guy on the beanbag looks up again at that, the man in the red sweater a step or two up the stairs, and Ellen above him, maybe a shrug, “It looks better on him,” she’s saying, turning away. Why’s it have to be, says the centaur on the screen. Rack em! https://preview.redd.it/yxg391a0yk4b1.png?width=35&format=png&auto=webp&s=506443fd3a4988b34878bf917171c44569067a50 previous Table of Contents Patreon |
2023.06.07 14:35 SnowBunnyBlue Dodge Grand Caravan 2015, A/C issue
2023.06.07 14:03 QuiscoverFontaine Two Strangers Far From Home
2023.06.07 13:53 papabear513 The Experiments Beneath Green Haven Penitentiary
2023.06.07 13:51 papabear513 The Experiments Beneath Green Haven Penitentiary
2023.06.07 13:44 Pinto_RED_Window13 Son Goku (dbz) Vs the scarlet king (scp foundation)
2023.06.07 13:30 Bragior Class Discussion: Apsaras (post-Ultimate Mastery Update)
Level | Bonus |
---|---|
1 | ATK +1,000 |
5 | Double Attack +5% |
10 | ATK +1,000 |
15 | Triple Attack +5% |
20 | Double Attack +5%, Triple Attack +5% |
Level | Bonus | Level | Bonus | Level | Bonus |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
1 | - | 11 | Skill DMG +2% | 21 | Skill DMG +2% |
2 | Skill DMG +2% | 12 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 22 | Skill DMG Cap +1% |
3 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 13 | ATK +400 | 23 | Skill DMG Cap +1% |
4 | ATK +400 | 14 | Skill DMG +2% | 24 | Skill DMG +2% |
5 | Skill DMG +2% | 15 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 25 | Skill DMG Cap +1% |
6 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 16 | ATK +400 | 26 | ATK +400 |
7 | ATK +400 | 17 | Skill DMG +2% | 27 | Skill DMG +2% |
8 | Skill DMG +2% | 18 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 28 | Skill DMG Cap +1% |
9 | Skill DMG Cap +1% | 19 | ATK +400 | 29 | Skill DMG +2% |
10 | ATK +400 | 20 | New Support Skill | 30 | Main Skill Upgrade |
Name | Obtained | Description |
---|---|---|
Swim Like a Bird, Fly Like a Fish | Lvl 1 | Boost to double attack rate when equipping a spear. |
Amplify normal attack damage by 10% when equipping an axe. | ||
Crisis Blow | Lvl 1 | Boost to "Resonating Surge" skill's damage. |
Free-Flowing Style | Mst 20 | Boost to stats based on the number of spears and axes equipped. |
Obtained | Effects | Duration |
---|---|---|
Lvl 1 | 3-hit, 100% Elemental damage to a foe (Cap: ~200,000 per hit). | Instant |
Inflict Break Boosted (Time) to a foe in Break. | ? seconds | |
Boost to specs based on number of spears and axes equipped (Max: Level 3). | ||
Mst 30 | Gain additional specs based on number of spears and axed equipped (Max: Level 5). |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
All parties gain 10% Charge Bar Gain Up. | 3 turns |
When Spear is equipped: All parties gain 80% Critical Hit Rate Up (20% DMG). | 3 turns |
When Axe is equipped: All allies gain Drain (800) and 10% Debuff Success Boosted. | 3 turns |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Gain Devotion. | 3 turns |
All other allies gain 50% ATK Up and 20% DEF Down. | 3 turns |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Gain Mirror Image (2 times). | Until used |
Gain Springwater Robe. | 3 turns or until used |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Gain 50% Debuff Res. Up. | 3 turns |
When Spear is equipped: All allies gain 10%-20% Strength. | 3 turns |
When Axe is equipped: All allies gain 10%-20% Jammed. | 3 turns |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Spear-specialty allies gain Guaranteed TA. | 1 turn |
Axe-specialty allies gain 15% DMG Amplified. | 3 turns |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
5-hit, 100% Elemental damage to all foes (Cap: ~68,000 per hit). | Instant |
Inflict 25% ATK Down and 25% DEF Down on all foes. | 180 seconds |
Number of hits increase by 1 for each Axe and Spear weapon equipped (Max: 15 hits total). |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Gain Crowning Fluidity. | Indefinite |
Effects | Duration |
---|---|
Gain Full Hostility and Dodge/Tank-and-Counter (5 hits). | 1 turn |
When Spear is equipped: Also gain 50% Sharp ATK Up (Assassin). | 1 turn |
When Axe is equipped: Also gain Full-Force Counter. | 1 turn |
2023.06.07 13:25 _Triple_ [STORE] 900+ KNIVES/GLOVES/SKINS, 50.000$+ INVENTORY. M9 Fade, M4 Poseidon, BFK Freehand, Crimson Kimono, Nomad Fade, Skeleton, Kara Lore, Bayo Autotronic, AWP Fade, Kara Damas, BFK Ultra, Kara Freehand, Kara Bright, M9 Damas, Omega, Tiger Strike, Flip MF, Bayo Tiger, Deagle Blaze, Talon & More
2023.06.07 13:25 Blubbpaule WiP Cheat-Sheet containing base damage stats of every enemy in Tears of the Kingdom.
2023.06.07 13:08 Pinto_RED_Window13 Archdemon (tf2 freakshow concepts) Vs Naruto
2023.06.07 12:57 Pinto_RED_Window13 Archdemon (TF2 FREAKSHOW CONCEPT WIKIA) Vs deku (MHA)
2023.06.07 12:35 According_Sun3182 Well that was fun.
![]() | I’ve been doing a bunch of no-heat Dark Thirst runs to finish all the Resource Director upgrades. For this one I used Aspect of Rama with Thunder Flourish, Relentless Volley, and Double Strike, but I got Ocean’s Bounty early in Tartarus and then kept running into Chaos Gates and getting offered eclipse boons. submitted by According_Sun3182 to HadesTheGame [link] [comments] The night reward in the final chamber after defeating [REDACTED] was +1438. |
2023.06.07 12:34 Pinto_RED_Window13 Archangel (TF2 freakshow) Vs muzan (demon slayer)
2023.06.07 11:55 OGKnightsky This is my 900rr project
![]() | Street FighteRocket hybrid build. All the mechanical stuff has been repaired/replaced at this point and I'm just waiting on some stuff to come in the mail I ordered but soon sexy will be back. Thanks for checking out the project! Both wheels will be red, a red fairing bolt kit will be in soon, the gas tank will be black/red/white like the new seats, the front fender will be black and the RR will be red and the Honda Racing will be white, a new more modern clusters with some illumination and digital gauges, some new hand controls to replace the old Frankenstein'd ones on there now, another good amount of time will go into finalizing the wiring harness, also need motor mount bolt on the left side top (ordered), and I am going to be checking that the cam tolerances are good and probly refresh the top of the motor and check the cam tensioner as well. I am waiting until I see all the cosmetic changes applied to the bike before I decide on painting the frame as well, considered polishing the frame instead and making her really shine. Still up in the air on that lol. Thanks again for checking out the project! Will post regular updates to thus project. submitted by OGKnightsky to CBR900rr [link] [comments] |
2023.06.07 11:41 EducationalSky8620 The Universal Way of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva- A Public Domain Translation of Chapter 25 of the Lotus Sutra
![]() | submitted by EducationalSky8620 to Buddhism [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/zvzzb14mgk4b1.png?width=602&format=png&auto=webp&s=78d3b2e3cabaf81554fe7ca27b7e8e50729713aa The Universal Way of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva The Bodhisattva of Boundless Will arose from his seat, bared his right shoulder, turned towards the Buddha with joined palms and asked: “World Honored One, we yearn to know why the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, He Who Hears and Heeds the Sounds of the World, is titled thus?” The Buddha replied to Boundless Will: “Virtuous Son! If a multitude of distressed sentient beings, ensnared in myriad sorrows, cry out with one heart the name of Avalokitesvara, the Bodhisattva will heed their cries and release them from suffering. If those who uphold Avalokitesvara’s name were thrown into a raging inferno, they would, by the astonishing power of the Bodhisattva, be immune from the flames. And if swept away by turbulent tides, they would reach the shallows. Likewise, whenever the many who cross the oceans in search of a fortune in gold, silver, red coral, pearls and precious stones find baneful winds forcing them into perilous or haunted waters, then the whole vessel may be steered to safety if just one among them chants the name of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. For these reasons, he is honored as He Who Hears and Heeds the Sounds of the World.” “Furthermore, if soon to be victims of violence cry for Avalokitesvara, the attacking blades shall break and leave them uninjured. Should a mighty host of Yakshas and Rakshasas —vast enough to cover the universe— march forth to torment others, then these fearsome ghosts, upon encountering someone who holds the name of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva, would be unable to even gaze at them with evil eyes, let alone do any harm. And all who are chained and fettered, whether guilty or not, will be freed and their restraints shattered upon invoking the name of Avalokitesvara. Moreover, say a merchant caravan laden with wealth and goods is about to pass through a perilous path surrounded by hoards of marauders—men with hearts hardened by hatred and grievances. If at that time one of the merchants addressed his peers: ‘My good fellows, be not afraid, for let us all chant with one heart the name of Avalokitesvara, the one who bestows fearlessness, and be thus freed from these marauders,’ then the merchants, upon chanting ‘Homage to Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva,’ will be released from all danger and be able to see their goods to safety.” “Boundless Will, the divine powers of Avalokitesvara Mahabodhisattva are ever so glorious. If beings stricken with lust or malice or ignorance often recall the Bodhisattva and cherish his name, they will see their vices recede. Boundless Will, Avalokitesvara possesses such bountiful and penetrating spiritual powers, thus, all beings must keep his name close to their hearts. If a woman wishing for a son prays and makes offerings to Avalokitesvara, she will have a son replete with fortune and wisdom. If she prays for a daughter, she will be blessed with a virtuous daughter of graceful countenance, honored by all. Boundless Will! Avalokitesvara has such awe inspiring powers, sentient beings who reverently pray to him will have not done so in vain, and shall receive endless good fortune. This is why all must receive and keep the name of Avalokitesvara.” “Boundless Will, say someone faithfully upholds the names of Bodhisattvas as numerous as sand grains in sixty two hundred million Ganges Rivers, and offered bed linens, robes, alms food and medicines to each and every one of them for a lifetime, would not the merit of such a virtuous man or woman be great?” “Certainly, World Honored One,” was the reply from Boundless Will. The Buddha continued: “On the other hand, if someone else who holds only the name of Avalokitesvara bows and makes offerings but once to him, the merit and blessings attained will be equal to that of the previous person, and shall last for all time. Boundless Will! The blessings reaped from keeping the name of Avalokitesvara are unlimited and unending.” The Bodhisattva of Boundless Will then asked the Buddha: “World Honored One, how does Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva tour the Saha world and minister to the masses? What is his way of preaching?” The Buddha replied: “Virtuous Son, if the inhabitants of a land must meet a Buddha to be liberated, Avalokitesvara will appear in the form of a Buddha and minister to them. He will manifest as a Paccekabuddha to those who have such affinities, and as an Arhat to those who seek one. If people are to be liberated by the Great Brahma King, he will appear as one and preach the Dharma, and if an audience requires the form of the Heavenly Father, he will appear as the Heavenly Father. If beings need to be ministered to by a deva from the Heaven of the Unburdened, he will appear as one, and likewise manifest as a deva from the Greater Heaven of the Unburdened when required. If the need to appear as a Celestial Marshal arises, he will do so and preach in that form. If the form of the Celestial King Kubera is sought for, he will oblige. The same is true for the forms of princes, elders, householders, magistrates, brahmins, monks, nuns, lay devotees, consorts, matrons, youthful sons or pure maidens. He will furthermore appear as any god, dragon, yaksha, gandharva, asura, garuda, kinnara, mahoraga, human or nonhuman. And for those destined to be liberated by a Vajra God, he will manifest accordingly and preach the Dharma to them as a Vajra God.” “Boundless Will! These are the meritorious deeds of Avalokitesvara, he graces all the lands in myriad different bodies and liberates all. So fail not to single-mindedly make offerings to Avalokitesvara, for it is this Mahabodhisattva who bestows fearlessness in moments of peril. He is known across the Saha world as the one who dispels all dangers and disasters.” The Bodhisattva of Boundless Will declared: “ World Honored One, I shall now make an offering to Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva.” As he removed his bejeweled Livery Collar—a treasure equal to a thousand gold staters— and presented it before Avalokitesvara, he said, “O Humane One, please receive this pious offering of pearls and jewels.” Being ever humble, the Bodhisattva declined the gift. In response, the Bodhisattva of Boundless Will beseeched again, “Humane One, please accept this offering out of pity for me!” At that moment, the Buddha said to Avalokitesvara: “You must accept this pious offering out of compassion for Boundless Will, the four assemblies, and for the gods, dragons, yakshas, gandharvas, asuras, garudas, kinnaras, mahoragas, humans and nonhumans.” Thus, out of compassion for them all, Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva accepted the gift, halved it, and offered a portion each to the Buddha and the Myriad Jeweled Stupa. “Boundless Will! Such is the supreme spiritual power of Avalokitesvara, he who is ever present across the entire Saha World.” The Bodhisattva of Boundless Will then asked in verse: “O World Honored One of wondrous countenance, I now seek once more the origins of this Heir of Buddha, The One Who Hears And Heeds the Sounds of the World!” And so, The Eminent One of Excellent Features replied To Boundless Will in mellifluous verse: “Hear the Ways of Avalokitesvara, he who manifests in myriad places, Has resolve deeper than oceans, he who has waited upon Countless Buddhas over endless eons, and kept the Great Vows of Purity. I shall now tell of the miracles Granted to those who hear his name, see his person, Those who hold his name close to their hearts, For their many sorrows shall all wither into dust! Say the murderous plot to push you into a fiery pit, Abide in Avalokitesvara and the fiery pit will turn into A delightful pond. Or if you are cast adrift in a mighty Sea, surrounded by hydras, sea-nymphs and devil whales, Abide in Avalokitesvara and the shallows shall appear. If you are pushed off Mount Meru, abide in Avalokitesvara And you will float in the void like the Sun. Suppose you are Pursued by hounds to the edge of the Vajra Cliff, abide in Avalokitesvara and see not one hair harmed. Or if you Are trapped by extortionists, armed and ready to do harm, Abide in Avalokitesvara and see forgiveness and mercy Swell in their hearts. Or if you are ensnared in the laws of Magistrates and sent to the guillotine, abide in Avalokitesvara And the blade shall break into pieces; if chained and fettered, Then the restraints shall be shattered and liberty regained. If you are victim of the dark arts, of curses and vexes, Abide in Avalokitesvara and the malice shall backfire Onto the culprit. And should you meet fearsome Rakshasas, venomous basilisks and other ghosts, abide in Avalokitesvara and none would dare haunt you. Or if You are circled by ferocious beasts, teeth and claws Long and sharp, abide in Avalokitesvara and see them scatter Away in every direction. Cobras and scorpions, toxic vapors And thick smoke, all dissipate when the name Of Avalokitesvara resounds in the air. And so too Ominous clouds, striking lightning, hail and rainstorms— Fading before the powers of Avalokitesvara. The multitude Of sentient beings, ensnared in myriad sorrows, shall find Release in the wondrous wisdom of Avalokitesvara, which Can alleviate all worldly pains and anxieties. Replete with Divine powers, and forever perfecting his wisdom and ease, He manifests in all the lands across the ten quarters. The manifold states of woe, the hells, ghost realms and Beastly domains, the suffering of birth, old age, illness, and Death shall all recede. Heeding purity and truth, heeding the Vast body of wisdom, heeding benevolence and compassion, May all forever admire him with resolve and praise. Radiance pure and unblemished, like sagacious solar rays Dispelling the darkness, able to tame all disasters from wind to Fire, and illume without bounds the whole universe. He is The body of benevolence, with thundering virtue, pouring forth The ambrosia of truth to extinguish the embers of anguish. If you are mired in prosecutions or caught in the throes of Battle, abide in Avalokitesvara and all enmity shall vanish. The wondrous sounds of Avalokitesvara, so pure like Serene waves, peerless in this world, who could afford Not to keep his name? Cherishing each chant with true faith, The pure and sagely Avalokitesvara is your rock in times of Pain and peril. Replete with merit and eyes of benevolence, Blessings boundless like the ocean, worthy of reverence!” In the end, the Bodhisattva Who Shouldered the Earth rose and proclaimed before the Buddha: “O World Honored One, anyone able to hear this sermon on the boundless deeds of Avalokitesvara and his universal works of mercy surely has an abundance of merit.” And as the Buddha spoke this Sutra, the myriad beings in the congregation before Him vowed for Unsurpassed Bodhi. Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Namo Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva! Homage to the Greatly Compassionate, Greatly Benevolent, Avalokitesvara Mahabodhisattva! Source: https://avalokitesvarashrine.quora.com/The-Universal-Way-of-Avalokitesvara-Bodhisattva-A-Public-Domain-Translation-of-Chapter-25-of-the-Lotus-Sutra |
2023.06.07 11:21 DemosthenesOrNah LF basic feedback on opening scene of my speculative fiction novel (594) - would you keep reading?
2023.06.07 11:21 EducationalSky8620 The Universal Way of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva- (A translation of Chapter 25 of the Lotus Sutra from 2020, says donated into Public Domain)
![]() | submitted by EducationalSky8620 to Buddhism [link] [comments] Avalokitesvara photo from source, I recognise it as from Taipei Longshan temple The Universal Way of Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva Source: https://avalokitesvarashrine.quora.com |
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