Hey!
Hoping someone can help me. Specifically Vauxhall Astra but any info/insight would be helpful!
My sensor light comes on pretty regularly as I keep tyres at 32ish (recommended level) and the light comes on if one of them hits 29. It occurred to me the light hadn't come on for a while so I looked through the dash and one of the tyres was down to 23 which I know will be correct as I'm pretty sure I've got a leaky valve and this one regularly needs topping up.
The warning light comes on when I start the car (when all the lights come on to confirm they're working) and then switches off again when the others do.
The sensor appears to be working as its showing the tyre pressure is low, the light is working as it comes on when the engine starts but the warning system isn't working as no light is coming up in response to the low pressure.
Does anybody have any ideas?
Thanks

Introduction:
Delhi, the vibrant capital city of India, is known for its rich history, diverse culture, and stunning architectural marvels. When it comes to designing your house interiors, Delhi offers an array of choices that cater to every taste and style. Whether you are looking for a luxurious makeover or a contemporary touch, this article will present ten jaw-dropping house interior design ideas that will leave Delhi in awe. Let's delve into the world of exquisite home interior designs and discover the perfect inspiration for your dream abode.
Classic Elegance:
If you appreciate timeless beauty and sophistication, a classic interior design style is perfect for your Delhi home. Embrace ornate furniture pieces, intricate details, and rich colour palettes. Incorporate elegant chandeliers, antique furniture, and plush fabrics to create an opulent ambience that exudes grandeur and luxury. Modern Minimalism: For those who prefer clean lines, open spaces, and a clutter-free environment, modern minimalism offers a sleek and contemporary approach to interior design. Opt for neutral colour schemes, minimalist furniture, and uncluttered spaces. Create a harmonious balance between form and function, allowing each element to make a statement in its simplicity.
Ethnic Eclecticism:
Delhi is a melting pot of diverse cultures, and blending ethnic elements into your house interior design can create a captivating and unique ambience. Incorporate vibrant colours, intricate patterns, and traditional artwork to infuse your space with the rich heritage of Delhi. Mix and match different textures, fabrics, and decorative pieces to achieve an eclectic and visually striking interior. Nature's Retreat: Escape the hustle and bustle of Delhi by transforming your house into a serene oasis inspired by nature. Bring the outdoors in with abundant natural light, indoor plants, and earthy colour palettes. Incorporate organic materials like wood, stone, and bamboo to create a calming and peaceful environment that promotes relaxation and tranquillity.
Industrial Chic:
Industrial interior design pays homage to Delhi's industrial heritage and embraces the beauty of raw and exposed materials. Utilize brick walls, concrete floors, and metal accents to create a rugged and edgy aesthetic. Combine vintage and modern elements to achieve a unique blend of industrial charm and contemporary style. Luxurious Contemporary: Indulge in the epitome of luxury with a contemporary interior design that exudes sophistication and refinement. Incorporate sleek furniture, premium finishes, and statement lighting fixtures. Use a monochromatic colour scheme with pops of bold hues to add drama and create a visually striking impact.
Artistic Expression:
Delhi's rich art scene provides ample inspiration for incorporating artistic elements into your house's interior design. Showcase your favourite artwork, sculptures, and installations to create a gallery-like setting. Experiment with bold colour combinations, unique textures, and unconventional furniture to showcase your creative side. Smart Technology Integration: Incorporate the latest smart home technologies into your house interior design for a seamless and futuristic experience. From automated lighting and temperature control to voice-activated assistants, smart technology enhances comfort, convenience, and efficiency in your Delhi home.
Bohemian Bliss:
Capture the essence of Delhi's bohemian vibe with a free-spirited and eclectic interior design style. Embrace vibrant colours, mismatched patterns, and a mix of vintage and ethnic furniture pieces. Create a cosy and inviting space filled with cultural artefacts, textured fabrics, and an array of plants to infuse your home with a bohemian charm.
Fusion of Cultures:
Delhi's cosmopolitan nature allows for the fusion of different cultures in house interior design. Combine elements from various design styles, such as Scandinavian minimalism with traditional Indian

PART SIXTY-FIVE
[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * * ((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗 )) For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here. FULL INDEX OF WE PLAN, GODS LAUGH TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

PART SIXTY-FIVE
[Previous Part] [Beginning]
Whether it was a snow half-orc thing or because Felipe was the chief and in better control of himself, his rage, as he surged to the nearest tree and tore it to pieces, then ripped it out by its massive roots and beat it all into kindling (roaring the whole time), was the extent of his outpouring. Part of me felt sorry for the tree, but better it than us.
Tarq maintained a protective stance half a step ahead of me, tensing when Felipe began punching into the frozen soil, but within a minute or two, with both hands pressed into the ground, he leaned over the top of them and stilled.
In the past, half-orcs had been known to rage for hours … sometimes days, depending on the slight. When Felipe turned to us, his eyes were red with unshed tears. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice thick and gravelly.
“With the rest of my party, having his first meal. He’s scared, Felipe. We haven’t questioned him yet, except to learn his name is Shobi, and even that’s more a play on the slave designation they gave him. Snow-Half-Orc-Eight-One … and a few other numbers.”
Felipe frowned. “They’ve got more than half-orcs,” he said without hesitation.
I nodded in agreement. “I thought as much too. Why allocate the species in the brand unless you have others that are different?”
“Are you going to tell Gimweren?”
“I’ll let her know of the possibility. More to the point, you know your people better than I do. Should we let your troops know now or hold off in the hopes that they don’t locate the slave pits? How you were able to contain your rage just then was impressive, but neither place will be a good time to lose so many snow half-orcs to a war craze.”
Felipe looked away from me, palming his braid with both hands thoughtfully. “We get angry, but we don’t do the psychotic rage like our green-skinned cousins,” he said, which coincided with what I knew of the battle-grain debacle of the past. “And we are just settling in for the night. I’ll speak to the boy first, then talk to a small group of my people. Once they have accepted the situation, I’ll have them move out to notify the others. Hopefully, most, if not all of my people, will be apprised of the situation by morning.”
“Shobi is understandably very nervous. Do you need another few minutes to clear your head properly, or are you good to go?”
His lips pinched as he thought about it, then turned to a brand new tree and punched his fist dead centre through it up to his bicep. “Okay,” he declared after extracting his arm as if he were pulling it through water. “I’m good now.”
I dismantled the opaque sound-blister I had created around us and led him back to our area, showing him where the opening in our protection dome was. He paused at the human-sized entrance he and the other half-orcs could pass through. “You’re very scary, Emeron. You know that, right?”
“Sorry?”
He flicked a finger at the opening. “I had no idea this spell could be modified like this.”
To me, it wasn’t a modification. Not like the ones I was actively avoiding to side-step a potentially cataclysmic event like blending chain lightning and fireballs to create a firestorm. This was more like having a thousand troops in front of me and ordering nine hundred to turn left and use their shield to form a testudo, leaving the other one hundred as they were. I lifted my left shoulder, uttered a dismissive sound, and went inside.
Felipe followed, losing all interest in me and my magical ability as his eyes zeroed in on the boy tucked in behind the opening where no prying eyes would see him. Shobi had his head covered by a blanket, with another wrapped around his waist, still eating whatever rations my friends had found in my pack while I’d been away talking to Felipe. What stunned me was the sight of Milo chopping up my vegetables into fine cubes with the speed and grace of a professional chef. He caught me staring at him and lifted his knife just enough to point at Shobi.
I’m not entirely sure why I thought Milo couldn’t cook. Perhaps it was because the roles in his shire were so gender defined or because he’d never offered to before. But that skill with a blade didn’t come from butchering prey, and it was a story I made a mental note to ask him for as soon as I got the opportunity.
Felipe swivelled on his heel to face the boy and then dropped to his knees, his eyes taking in the gaunt features of a man-child who’d probably never had a real meal in his life. “Do you understand me?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes were so wide it would have been comical if it wasn’t so tragic as they took in every facet of the man kneeling before him before returning to his face and nodding silently.
“Do you speak?”
Shobi swallowed heavily and nodded again.
“Do you know who your parents are?”
Instead of answering, the boy reached out one hand and gingerly touched the leather bracer of Felipe’s armour. Felipe turned his hand, allowing the boy to trace his fingers across the seams and down onto his battle-hardened palms. “You fight,” he said, looking up at Felipe’s face.
“When I have to,” Felipe agreed. “And as of now, I will fight for you.”
The boy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “I don’ wancha t’ die.”
It was more than the boy had ever said before, and I could already hear the differences in the dialogue. Shobi’s was more like the regular half-orc.
Felipe’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon either, son. But those people who did this to you?” He lifted his hand to push back the blanket covering the boy’s head, and I watched the pain that danced across his face as the short hair, then the branding as the boy leaned forward, came into view. “I will end them all for this.” His tone had dropped to something I felt belonged on the other side of the gates of hell.
Shobi started to shudder. A little at first, but then more violently as Felipe’s words sank in. “No. No!” he insisted, his small frame shaking with determination. “Run. Flee! Hide! Free!” He gripped Felipe’s forearm, desperate to convey that message.
With his free hand, Felipe reached over his shoulder and drew one of his two swords, pointing it tip down and to the side where Shobi could see it. “We are not unarmed,” he said in his most assertive voice.
If anything, the sight of the sword made Shobi even more frantic. “NO!” he insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Felipe to his. “You not win! You not! Run! Run or we die!”
“My gun says we can,” I said, using their distraction to unsheathe my light weapon and hold it towards the roof of our dome with my finger nowhere near the trigger. I watched as Shobi’s eyes went wide with recognition, which confirmed what I’d thought. The Consitors also had light weapons. “That’s right, Shobi. We have them too.”
I saw his eyes drop to my gloved wrist and knew what he was looking for. “I am not one of them,” I promised. “And this is Chief Felipe. We’re here to free everyone, and we’re not leaving until we do.” It may not have been on my original agenda, but now that I knew about it, it was damn well up near the top of my to-do list, coming in just under the evisceration of the Consitor infiltrators. “And we have the numbers to do it. What we don’t have, is what you know. You escaped, Shobi. You got out. And now you need to tell us how you did that so we can use it to our advantage.”
“Emeron,” Felipe said, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Yes?”
“I want my people to see Shobi as he is, but once that is done, would you please heal him?”
I looked between him and the boy. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admitted. “He’s not in great health, but he’s not …”
“Could you heal his scalp and then grow his hair so that he never has to see himself like this again?”
I breathed out slowly. “Healing the burnt tissue is something any defence mage can do, however forcing one aspect of someone to age faster than normal, which is essentially what you’re asking me to do—that I’m not so sure of. I wouldn’t want to risk accidentally aging the boy as well.”
Felipe’s nose screwed up in annoyance. “Is that a light weapon?” he asked, finally noticing my gun.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And it is connected to me and me alone. If anyone else were to try and use it, they would die.”
“Yuh, yuh!” Shobi agreed, nodding emphatically. “They scream, fly apart and poof. Gone. Bad! Very bad!”
That was something I didn’t know, and Shobi was apparently speaking from experience. “When did you see it happen?”
Shobi’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Masters drop guns. Good Vermins get food. Vermins who use them…”
I sheathed my gun while Felipe’s attention was on the boy, then snapped my fingers twice for both of their attention. “Vermins?” I tried very hard to keep the censure out of my tone, but the way Shobi’s head dipped low, I hadn’t been overly successful.
I watched Shobi patting himself on the chest while his other hand squeezed Felipe’s wrist. He then pointed out Milo, Thalien, Lanna and Tarq before he stopped and stared hard at Shay-Lee since our resident half-elf looked more human except for her slightly pointed ears.
“Her too,” I growled, for again, his twisted worldview confirmed much. Vermins? I would not show these Consitor dogs any mercy at all. The extent of my mercy went to how quickly that ship of theirs was destroyed. I saw Felipe’s jaw clench and knew we were of the same mind there.
“Alright,” I said, releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. “This is how we’re going to proceed. Felipe, you bring up to speed only those who were at that first meeting in Tetorli. I’ll come with you and erect another opaque sound blister so their various reactions won’t be seen by others. Thalien, you and Lanna go to Gimweren and speak to those she had at that same meeting. We’ll reconvene here after that, and Shobi can tell us what we need to know about getting into Jinis Ridge.”
I waited just long enough for everyone to agree to my directions, then continued, “This will be the first time we’ll have information on what’s going on inside Jinis Ridge, but Shobi is young and clearly exhausted, so we won’t be pushing him too hard for details tonight. We’ll get what we can and pick it up again in the morning, but not before you and Gimweren spread the word that we’ll be camping an extra day here.”
“We’re only a day’s ride from Cerro Nexo,” Shay Lee quickly argued. “Why not ride there with him and have this discussion with the elves too?”
Thalien hummed in agreement, and in fairness, I could see the merits of their argument. Ironically, ten years ago, I’d have done just that and to hell with what the boy had endured. “Because I’m not about to force this young man back towards the one place he’s just killed himself to escape from. He got this far all by himself, and although I plan on winning this war, there will be casualties. He will NOT be amongst them. We’ll draw all the information we can from him, and then we’ll get him the hell out of here.”
I felt Shobi’s eyes on me, and when I turned, Felipe had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Is that what you wish? To be safe, far, far from here?” he asked. Shobi nodded so hard I thought his neck was going to snap. “Very well. I have fighters outside. Many men and women who will die to protect you. Once you’ve told us everything you can about your …err… where you were,” —like me, Felipe would rather gargle crushed glass than speak of the slave pits to Shobi— “They’ll take you far away, to our home in the south. Thousands of us are there. You’ve been so brave to come this far, and I promise you, with everything in me and our people, you’ll never be alone again.”
Tears welled in Shobi’s eyes, and without warning, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s neck, burying his face against his throat. Felipe tipped backwards under the unexpected impact, but Tarq’s reflexes had him standing behind the snow half-orc chief, supporting Felipe’s back with his legs.
The second blanket fell away at the sudden movement, reminding me he was dressed only in a leather loincloth. Felipe closed his eyes and angled his head against Shobi’s, curling his arms around the younger man’s trembling body. Now and again, his hand would travel up to Shobi’s back to cup his shaved head, only to change direction before coming into contact with the brand.
I stared at Felipe’s clothing, knowing there weren’t any class distinctions between him and what his people wore, and commanded the dust dots to create an exact copy of it in Shobi’s size. Truthfully, I should’ve done this before, but better late than never. Included in that order were the boots and whatever passed for snow half-orc underwear. Yes, it would mean every nick, tear and stain in the chief’s clothes would be replicated in the smaller size, but better that than botching something more fundamental.
The dust dots whirled, creating something from nothing until they had everything piled neatly on my outstretched hand. Except for the boots on top, the dots had even gone to the trouble of putting it in the order that it would be donned.
Poor Shobi had never worn clothes, and as soon as Felipe pulled each piece into place, the boy tugged and picked at the hems and seams. He was delighted to be rid of the loincloth, though. That he threw straight into the fire.
I tried very hard not to react to something like that and our food being within the same proximity. At least it had been cleaned, thanks to Lanna; otherwise, we’d probably all be gagging on the stench that would quickly follow.
The boots were the most challenging thing for him to adapt to. His ankles rolled with each step, and sheer pride kept him upright. “They pinch my toes,” he complained to Felipe, his new hero.
“Your toes have spread from not wearing shoes. Even now, look,” the big man explained, putting his booted foot down beside Shobi’s. “Yours are wider in the toe than mine because those boots were made specifically for you. They fit fine.”
Shobi squinted, realising his were at least an inch wider, despite the rest of the boot being two-thirds of Felipe’s. Shobi’s feet were more like that of a regular half-orc, probably for the same reason.
When Felipe and I went to leave to speak to the other snow half-orcs, Shobi clung to Felipe’s hand and all but wrapped himself around the chief’s arm. Nothing either of us said could convince him to let go.
“My people will not be happy to learn you have been treated like an animal,” Felipe tried to explain for the hundredth time. “I don’t want them to frighten you when they start throwing things to vent their anger.”
“You be here?” Shobi asked, somehow interlocking their fingers even as he pointed to where Chief Felipe stood.
“Of course.”
“I hide behind you.”
Felipe snorted, and I had to smirk as well. That wasn’t precisely what Felipe had meant, but it seemed Shobi had chosen himself a champion. “Nothing untoward will ever touch you again as long as I breathe, boy. Count on that.”
Shobi pressed his forehead into Felipe’s upper bicep, and Felipe’s jaw tensed as our eyes met, both of us silently wishing we could purge all that had happened to the youngster. It didn’t take a genius to realise it would take magic and a crowbar to separate them, either.
“Okay,” I said, coming up with a new plan on the fly. I hid my hand inside my jacket and had the dust dots craft me a quilted coif in Shobi’s size, having it appear in my hidden hand. From there, I went over to the boy and slid it over his head to hide his brand, and when his head lifted to see what I was doing, I tied the strings under his chin. “Leave that on,” I said as he went to touch the fabric. My eyes then went to Felipe. “Once those at this meeting have seen the brand, Thalien and Milo will remove the boy and repair his scalp. Time will grow his hair out, but at least he won’t have that brand beyond tonight.”
I put my hand on Shobi’s cheek and guided his face to look at me. “Have you ever seen a half-orc in a rage? When they get really, really mad?” I didn’t care how much he clung to Felipe. If this were all too new for him and the sight of his own people raging frightened him, I’d have Harmony put the boy to sleep for a few minutes while we were away.
Shobi nodded. “Sportsday.”
I really didn’t want to know what he meant by that. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here with Harmony and Liab?”
Shobi looked past me to where Harmony and her familiar sat, watching. I took the tightening grip on Felipe’s arm to mean ‘No’.
“Alright then,” I said, waving them both towards the opening. “Let’s do this.”
The snow half-orcs reacted as well as I expected, but an hour later, I had fifteen of one race and sixteen of the other sitting inside our dome. The line of myself and my friends with our backs to our fire was no different to that night in Tetorli, though this time, Felipe sat directly across from me instead of on my right. Shobi sat on his feet, his shins flush to the ground and his weight leaning sideways against Felipe. More interestingly, Felipe had draped his braid across Shobi’s shoulders with the weighted end pooled possessively in the boy’s lap. The way Shobi’s other hand caressed the braid and smiled shyly at those around him, he was nervous, but Felipe’s presence made him feel safe.
I couldn’t help but look to my left where Tarq stood, knowing that feeling very well.
“Let us see it,” Gimweren commanded, flicking her finger at the youngster.
“Do not bark orders at him, Overseer,” Felipe warned. “It is only through his bravery that you are now aware that they could very well have the young of your kind in there as slaves too.”
“They do,” Shobi answered, looking up at his hero. “They have all vermins.”
Gimweren met Felipe’s eyes, but then she drew in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before dipping her head in a silent nod. I noticed several of the warriors on both sides had dragged their hands through the frozen ground to control their tempers, partially due to the boy’s presence but also because they were under my roof, which was where they wanted to stay. “Alright, lad. When you’re ready, please take off the coif and twist around so we can see what those animals did to you.”
Even though I’d seen it before, looking at the seared flesh and burnt bone, my stomach roiled, and no less than three dwarves rose to their feet. “Boy,” they all shouted at once. If it weren’t for the concern in their eyes, I would’ve ordered them back to their seats.
“Shobi,” Felipe corrected.
“Shobi,” the dwarf closest to me repeated while the other two retook their seats in deference to him. “Would you allow me to fix that for you right now? I’m Overseer Gimweren’s personal defence mage. Do you know what that is?”
Shobi leaned harder against Felipe and shook his head.
“Among other things, I’m a magical healer, and I’m begging you to let me take that scar away. Please?”
Shobi looked at me, and when I rolled my hand to give him the choice, he looked up at Felipe. “They won’t hurt you, son,” he promised.
The son part was new.
“I’m assuming no one needs to see it again?” the male defence mage ran his eye along both sides, almost daring anyone to argue with him. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The dwarf then moved to stand directly in front of Shobi and knelt in front of him.
We all waited while the defence mage completed the sequence that would make the dust dots repair the physical damage. It only took a minute. “There,” he said with a smile, reaching forward to touch the back of Shobi’s head. I couldn’t see Shobi’s reaction since the dwarf stood between us, but I could picture it, especially when the defence mage continued on. “The snow half-orcs have always looked after their own, but you have my vow now to add to that. Anyone who comes at you must go through me first.”
“AYE!” “Hear, hear!” the line of dwarves cried in unison. Even Gimweren added her shout to the cry.
I looked back at my friends and saw Harmony and Lanna clasping their hands to their chests, both fighting the tears that banked in their eyes, and I could appreciate the sentiment. The boy had won the respect and loyalty of not one army but two.
For the next hour, Shobi told us in his limited dialect about his life in the slave pits of Jinis Ridge. Many of his explanations required physical prompting when words failed him, but no one spoke to contradict or interrupt him. If he was to be believed, he wasn’t a captured prisoner turned slave like I thought. He’d been born in the pits from parents who’d been brought together for the specific purpose of breeding.
And as I listened to his tale, I thought about our own slave trade and realised his story probably wasn’t that different to so many others. The palace didn’t have slaves; only a few of the capital’s population kept them, but they weren’t outlawed.
In fact, people in certain provinces made good coin peddling in flesh. I myself had parted with a significant sum of money to buy Harmony’s freedom when she’d been taken, and I hadn’t thought to ask myself why I had even allowed it to happen in the first place. The slaves were former citizens whose citizenship was stripped from them by others who were only citizens themselves. A collar and a brand were all that separated an imperial citizen and a slave, and we had allowed that to happen.
No … I had allowed that to happen.
It was a startling wake-up call to realise the only difference between the two types of slavers was their place of origin. That if the Consitors were Imperials, we wouldn’t be so up in arms about them enslaving people.
I glanced at where Felipe sat protectively at Shobi’s side and knew I had to amend that. The snow half-orcs were the exception. No one had ever taken a snow half-orc as a slave before that I knew of.
I felt a hand on each of my shoulders and knew without looking that one belonged to Harmony and the other to Milo. Tarq always knew what I was thinking, but those two had the uncanny knack of knowing instinctively what I was feeling, and right then, it wasn’t good. I hadn’t protected all of my people—only some of them.
When this was all over, I knew I’d be discussing this at length with Roald, and I wouldn’t stop until he agreed to make a proclamation outlawing slavery within our borders. Some livelihoods would suffer, but on the whole, we didn’t need slaves. They were simply convenient. Buying someone outright instead of paying a daily wage was easier.
Depending on how wound up I got, I might even push for a total ban on slaves within the empire, including any overseas visitors.
Leave them home, or watch them be taken from you and freed.
I liked the sound of that.
Perhaps I was getting too emotionally invested, but what was the point of being the Emperor’s Shadow if I couldn’t do what should’ve already been done to safeguard not just the majority of my people but each and every imperial citizen? Slaves, before they were enslaved, would have paid their taxes too, which should have given them certain protections, and I had seriously fallen down on the job there.
Not anymore.
* * *
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗 ))
For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF WE PLAN, GODS LAUGH TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

My wife and I woke up at 4am to a loud noise in our hall, sounded like an old dryer buzzer but only for like half a second at a time and it was happening once every 30 seconds-5 minutes. I wouldn't have known it was electrical even but when I investigated, it sounded like it was coming from multiple light fixtures, however all the ones I could hear the noise coming from are functioning as normal.
I went to the electrical panel and reset a few circuits and found one that was triggering the noise when I turned it on, so that circuit remains off. It was not any of the light fixtures I was hearing the noise from, However it was on the rooms next to them.
Is there a safe way to figure out which fixture/outlet is causing the noise? It sounds like it could possibly be arcing but would this not flip the breaker?

In recent years, there has been a significant shift in the transportation industry towards more sustainable and eco-friendly modes of travel. One such mode that has gained immense popularity is the electric scooter. With zero emissions, low maintenance costs, and ease of use, electric scooters have become a preferred choice for urban commuters and enthusiasts alike. In this blog post, we will shed light on one of the leading electric scooter manufacturers, Crayon Motors.
Crayon Motors is a pioneering company in the field of electric mobility, specifically electric scooters. With a vision to revolutionize urban transportation and reduce carbon footprint, Crayon Motors has emerged as a key player in the industry. The company is committed to providing innovative and reliable electric scooters that not only deliver a great riding experience but also contribute to a greener future.
One of the standout features of Crayon Motors electric scooters is their sleek and modern design. The company puts a strong emphasis on aesthetics without compromising on functionality. Crayon Motors understands that riders not only want a reliable mode of transportation but also a vehicle that looks good and complements their lifestyle. Their electric scooters are designed to turn heads and make a statement on the road.
When it comes to performance, Crayon Motors electric scooters are no slouch either. Powered by advanced lithium-ion batteries, these scooters offer impressive acceleration and top speeds, making them perfect for zipping through city streets. With a focus on efficiency, Crayon Motors ensures that their scooters have a long battery life and can cover substantial distances on a single charge. This is a crucial factor for commuters who rely on electric scooters for their daily transportation needs.
Safety is another area where Crayon Motors excels. Their electric scooters come equipped with features like anti-lock braking systems (ABS), LED lighting, and intuitive control systems to ensure a safe and secure ride. Crayon Motors understands the importance of rider safety and has taken proactive measures to incorporate the latest safety technologies into their scooters.
Furthermore, Crayon Motors is dedicated to providing excellent customer service and support. They have established a wide network of service centers and authorized dealers to cater to the needs of their customers. Whether it's routine maintenance or addressing any issues, Crayon Motors ensures that their customers have access to timely and reliable assistance.
In conclusion, Crayon Motors has emerged as a leading electric scooter manufacturer, known for its commitment to innovation, style, performance, and sustainability. Their electric scooters offer a compelling alternative to traditional gasoline-powered vehicles, providing riders with a convenient, eco-friendly, and enjoyable mode of transportation. With their sleek designs, impressive performance, and focus on safety, Crayon Motors electric scooters are well-positioned to shape the future of urban mobility. So, if you're considering joining the electric revolution, Crayon Motors is definitely a brand worth exploring.

TIMESTAMP
Hello mm, looking to let go a few keysets that need a good home. Shipping to CONUS only. Please comment before PMing, no chats. Also looking for Grid 650 modules aside from black FLASH and teal PEAKs. Please let me know if there are any questions. Thank you for looking!

Keycaps

GMK Hennessey

• Light shine, nothing egregious though
• Full base set
• Asking $80 shipped in bags (+$10 for GMK packaging)

Cannonkeys Honeywell Bold

• PBT, no shine though, full set
• Right Shift (2.75u) has small ding from something, see timestamp for photos
• Asking $40 shipped in bags

Drop Artifact Shield Purple on Black

• PBT, never used
• Full set (kitting only supports standard 60%, 100% layouts)
• Asking $20 shipped in bags

Nuphy Air Cost low-profile

• Fits both Air75 and Air60 (or most other 75% or less, too)
• Used for a week, then sold the board
• Asking $20 shipped in bag

General question, how to give positive feedback or comments to someone with low self-esteem? Talking about those people who don't believe you when you say nice things, and who are "unable" to see themselves in a positive light? My experience so far: such people can alternatively - "argue" with you about how they are not the nice things you say, - say "thanks" but seem totally indifferent, unable to really receive it - be sure that you're making fun of them, even after being reassured
Not sure if this is the right subreddit but I felt like trying my luck here :)?

The Dutch independent investigative journalism platform 'Follow the Money' wrote a article about Patagonia.
"Sustainable clothing brand Patagonia manufactures in the same factories as fast-fashion; textile workers are being exploited"
Clothing brand Patagonia seems to be doing everything right: for its employees, for the people who make the clothes and for the environment. The company’s image – they say they’re in business to save our home planet – is very different from fast-fashion brands like asos, Primark and Nike. But Patagonia’s clothes are manufactured in exactly the same factories and under the same deplorable conditions.
When Yvon Chouinard started creating climbing equipment in his parents’ backyard in Burbank, California, he used steel. Soon he earned a reputation for making the ‘best’ climbing equipment in America. But every time a climber slammed one of those steel pegs into a rock, the gap got a little bigger and eventually unusable. Chouinard realised he was making money by destroying the rocks and therefore also the sport. And so he switched to aluminium blocks, which did not damagethe rocks.
The change was expensive and risky for the young company, but the moral dilemma was reason enough for Chouinard to implement the change. And to be very outspoken about it. It was a success: within a year, 40 per cent of the US climbing community stopped using steel.
Chouinard applied this experience when he started the outdoor brand Patagonia in 1973. He wanted to make only high-quality clothing that would last. And limit the impact on the environment as much as possible. In 1996, the brand switched to 100 per cent organic cotton, only to increasingly replace it with recycled materials. But the responsibility that Chouinard attributed to the company extended further.
In 2002 he decided to give one per cent of sales to environmental organisations every year. In 2011, Patagonia placed a full-page ad in the New York Times calling on consumers to ‘not buy this jacket’ in order to draw attention to the problematic nature of overconsumption in the clothing industry.
In addition, the clothing had to be manufactured fairly: in 2012, the top of the company made paying living wages to everyone who makes Patagonia products a ‘priority’. In 2020, Patagonia launched a campaign encouraging consumers to demand more from clothing brands: ‘Demand recycled. Demand organic. Demand Fair Trade,’ Patagonia urged its viewers.
In 2022, the then 84-year-old Chouinard caused worldwide astonishment, when he gave away 98 per cent of his shares to a newly formed NGO, the Holdfast Collective, which is ‘committed in its fight against the environmental crisis and protecting nature.’ Henceforth, the company’s profits would no longer flow to himself or his children but to the climate. ‘Earth is now our only shareholder,’ Chouinard said. Billionaire gives company away to climate, newspapers like The New York Times, The Washington Post and The Guardian reported*.*
This construction saved the NGO an estimated 700 million dollars that Chouinard would have had to pay in tax if he had sold the company and donated the proceeds to the same NGO. But according to Chouinard, this option allowed him to do something else: protect Patagonia’s values. Because he did not give the voting shares to Holdfast Collective but to a family trust. This allows his family to continue determining the company’s direction.
The company’s turnover – its European headquarters are in Amsterdam − grew by more than 50 per cent that year to about 1.5 billion dollars.
The actions earned Patagonia an image as being the ultimate sustainable frontrunner. In April, Time Magazine named Chouinard one of the world’s 100 most influential people. ‘Patagonia is a company people look up to in awe,’ the magazine wrote.
The complete opposite of Patagonia is a company like Primark. The Irish retail chain is known for selling on-trend low-quality clothes at low prices. Its revenue model is based on mass: high volumes with low margins.
Primark continuously creates new garment collections designed to be worn only a few times, after which they fall apart. The company uses advertising, clearance sales and influencers to urge consumers to keep buying as much as possible.
Media regularly report on the subsequent consequences. One, in particular, is that the people who make the clothes suffer from high production pressure at low cost. ‘Primark supplier accused of locking up factory workers in Myanmar protests,’ The Guardian headline read in 2021. That same year, The Clean Clothes Campaign NGO wrote: ‘Primark uses pandemic to put further pressure on factory workers in manufacturing countries.’
Patagonia and Primark seem like two extremes on the slow versus fast-fashion spectrum. Yet the brands have something in common. Some of their clothing is manufactured in the exact same factory.
PATAGONIA IN AMSTERDAM In 2014, Patagonia moved its European headquarters from Annecy town in the French Alps to Amsterdam. Reflecting on this, current CEO Ryan Gellert told the city marketing website I Amsterdam: ‘We established headquarters here in 2014 because we wanted a place where we could attract and retain pan-European and global talent, [...] and where there was an active community working on sustainability issues. As we searched potential locations across Europe, Amsterdam remained high on our list.’
According to Tax Law Professor Jan van de Streek, tax benefits may also have played a role in the choice of the Netherlands. This is because Patagonia did not register in the Netherlands as a BV but as a cooperative with two US members: Patagonia International Inc and Patagonia Global LLC. ‘Why choose something as strange as a cooperative structure?’ Van de Streek remarks to Follow the Money. ‘Because it is exempt from dividend tax. I think it’s naive to think there’s any other reason for that.’
Responding to questions about this, Patagonia said: ‘Since its inception, Patagonia Europe Coöperatief has paid regular corporate income taxes in all European countries where we do business, including the Netherlands, and has never used the tax efficiencies of a cooperative.’
‘At the suggestion of our advisors', Patagonia chose a cooperative structure ‘because it's the most flexible type of entity that suited our business purpose. However, Patagonia has chosen not to pursue any of the tax advantages available under the cooperative entity type. Patagonia Europe has not paid dividends to its parent company.'

‘No difference’

That factory is called Regal Image and is located in Sri Lanka. To be precise, in the Free Trade Zone of Katunayake, less than two kilometres from the international airport. The industrial estate is guarded 24/7 by Sri Lankan police. Access is only possible with a special pass.
In the factory hall, there are long tables with pieces of white fabric on them. An employee walks past with sea-green paint and a stencil forming the letters ‘asics’. Further along, a machine prints a grey logo on a purple tank top for Decathlon.
‘So far, we don’t really notice any difference between working with Patagonia and working with Primark or Decathlon,’ says Kevin Fernando. Fernando is the manager at the factory, which dyes, prints or embroiders logos and prints on fabrics. Regal Image was recently approved as a supplier to Patagonia, a process that took nine months. Fernando shows the designs for the 2024 summer collection. Light blue fabric features ‘Patagonia’ in pink letters, and a rainbow is printed on orange fabric.
‘Like most clothing companies, we do not make our products, nor do we own any of the factories that do,’ Patagonia writes on its website about the decision to outsource the manufacturing process. ‘We design, test, market and sell Patagonia gear. These are our areas of strength. We pay other companies [...] to produce fabrics and do the actual cutting and sewing.’

‘No control over working conditions’

Patagonia promises to only partner with factories that are ‘like-minded’ and who share their ‘philosophy.’ Patagonia has found sixty-one suitable factories: two in the US, one in Portugal and the remainder in 12 different low-wage countries. The bulk of the products are made in Vietnam and Sri Lanka.
At least two-thirds of the factories that manufacture Patagonia clothing also work for clothing brands that, according to the consumer website Good on You, have little or no sustainability policies in place (Patagonia itself is touted by Good on You as sustainable). This is evident from an analysis by Follow the Money based on data from Open Supply Hub, which aims to make supply chains in the clothing industry more transparent.
One day people make clothing for Patagonia, and the next day, they make items for brands such as GAP, Levi Strauss, Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss, Tommy Hilfiger, Nike, Amer Sports, Asics, US department store chain Target, e-commerce platform Amazon, supermarket Aldi and fast-fashion icons ASOS, Boohoo, H&M and Zara.
‘How is this possible?’ visual culture professor Anneke Smelik responds. Smelik researches sustainable fashion at Radboud University. ‘I know Patagonia as the most sustainable brand out there. I expected them to manufacture in small factories close to home. This means they have absolutely no control over working conditions.’
PATAGONIA IN SRI LANKA Patagonia works with 14 factories in Sri Lanka that are part of (or partner with) two companies: MAS Holdings and the Hirdaramani Group.
MAS Holdings was founded in 1987 by three brothers: Mahesh, Ajay and Sharad Amalean. The company began manufacturing lingerie and later expanded to sportswear, swimwear and T-shirts. With factories in 17 countries and roughly 2.4 billion dollars in turnover by 2022, MAS is Sri Lanka’s largest clothing manufacturer. The Amalean brothers are among the wealthiest men in the country.
The company emphatically presents itself as a sustainable clothing manufacturer. For instance, the company promises to emit 25 per cent less CO2 by 2025 than in 2019, and CEO Suren Fernando expects the group to earn half its revenue from sustainable products by then.
In May 2023, MAS received a Presidential Environment Award from President Ranil Wickremesinghe for the company’s commitment to the environment. The company describes the welfare of its employees as ‘its top priority’. On the subject of paying a living wage, the company makes no promises.
In the early 1900s, Parmanand Hirdaramani, then 16 years old, started a clothing shop in Sri Lanka’s capital Colombo. Today, his great-grandson Aroon Hirdaramani runs the Hirdaramani Group, which has grown into an international clothing conglomerate with factories in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Vietnam and a turnover of around 900 million US dollars.
Hirdaramani also presents itself as a sustainable producer. The company’s website states: ‘At Hirdaramani, we do the right thing. We have always done that. It’s about making good decisions today that benefit everyone in the long run.’
Since 2019, all Hirdaramani factories in Sri Lanka have been producing climate neutrally. For 2025, the company has set several targets on material use, water use, waste and leadership. Paying a living or higher wage is not a target.
In 2016, Aroon Hirdaramani and his wife Mona surfaced in the Pandora Papers. It emerged that Hirdaramani owned two investment companies in the British Virgin Islands. The reason for this is unclear. The fact is that companies based there do not have to pay tax on income, profits, dividends and interest, among other things.

Sixteen-hour workdays

Eligibility to manufacture Patagonia products requires a supplier to meet a list of sustainability criteria. Those criteria are set out in a code of conduct for suppliers. For example, child labour, forced labour, or physical, sexual or verbal harassment are not allowed. All national laws must be respected. Suppliers must respect workers’ right to freedom of association, may not force workers to work overtime and must ensure healthy working conditions. Working weeks of more than 60 hours or more than six days in a row is not acceptable to Patagonia.
Patagonia checks whether a factory complies with these standards through independent auditor visits at least once a year, says the brand after being questioned by Follow the Money. Checks are also carried out by the Fair Labor Association (FLA) and FairTrade: two NGOs that provide Patagonia’s manufacturing process and clothing with a sustainability label.
A part of those audits is public. Since 2016, the FLA has publishedassessments of seven Patagonia factories, including three in Vietnam, three in Sri Lanka and one in China. During those inspections, auditors found dozens of violations, varying greatly in severity.
For instance, almost 2000 employees at a factory in Vietnam were paid less for their overtime than what they should have received and employees’ ages were not recorded (thus child labour cannot be ruled out). Another check found out that applicants had to provide their menstrual date. Employees told the interviewers they were not allowed to become pregnant in the first six months of their employment. Less serious violations dealt with issues such as working without protective equipment, blocked emergency exits, or a lack of policies on harassment or discrimination.
One problem crops up in every report. Textile workers in factories manufacturing clothes for Patagonia work far longer hours than legally permitted: up to 17 hours a day and more than 80 hours a week, well beyond what is permissible according to Patagonia’s code of conduct.
‘Long working hours with insufficient breaks often lead to health problems,’ the Clean Clothes Campaign recently wrote about this issue. ‘Managers pressure employees to work 10- to 12-hour and sometimes even 16- to 18-hour days. The number of hours increases as the deadline approaches. Those who protest are simply fired. Moreover, workers depend on overtime to supplement their low wages.’
At the Regal Image factory in Sri Lanka, manager Fernando assures that his employees work a maximum of five days a week and 10 hours a day. But during the tour, a line manager starts talking about the duration of his shift: from eight in the morning to a quarter to 10 in the evening – almost 14 hours. ‘It’s busy,’ says Fernando, casually.
‘This is what the fast-fashion model does,’ says Smelik. ‘Brands want their products to be in store within a few weeks. So when a factory receives an order from such a brand, the production targets and overtime skyrocket.’

‘They talk to us like we are animals’

The office of Stand Up Lanka, a union led by Ashila Niroshine Dandeniya, is located just outside the Free-Trade Zone. She started working in a MAS factory, part of MAS Holdings that is a supplier to Patagonia, in 2003. Her colleagues elected her to represent them as a member of the factory’s employees council. But when she addressed the matter of wages, she was fired. She challenged her dismissal, got compensation, and discovered that there were laws in place to protect people like her.
Now, almost 20 years later, she knows Sri Lankan labour law like the back of her hand. Her office is a hexagon with five windows, all open. Textile workers from nearby factories approach her via these windows to greet her or ask for help.
When a transman walks past, she says, ‘He applied to MAS Shadowline [one of Patagonia’s suppliers, ed] a month ago. They said they didn’t want him because he is transgender. He can’t get work anywhere. And he cannot go back to his village because he is Muslim. His family will shoot him.’
When about six women wearing yellow MAS polos come and ask for a food parcel, Dandeniya shakes her head. ‘We don’t have enough. Since the country’s economic crisis, some families barely eat two meals a day. How am I supposed to choose who can eat and who can’t?’
That evening, she introduces Priya (31). Priya has been working for MAS Shadowline for almost two years, sewing the side seams on leggings or T-shirts. She makes many clothes for yoga brand Lululemon and for Lacoste (famous through the crocodile logo), but sometimes also for Patagonia.
‘The worst part is the scolding,’ she says in her home a few streets away: a room of about 12 square metres. It contains a double bed, a small kitchenette and a wardrobe. Despite the fan on the wall, it is sweltering hot inside. She shares a toilet and a shower with others.
‘My supervisor’s manager is a terrible man. He touches everyone in a bad way, and if you say you don’t want that, you have a problem. He yells at me if I have to go to the bank or the doctor. “Then who will do the work? Who will meet the target?” And he’s not the only one. They talk to us like we are animals.’
When asked about her production targets, she breathes a deep sigh. ‘The other day, Lululemon placed a huge order, and now everyone is stressed. On the first day, we had to make seventy items per hour, but on the second day, it was suddenly a hundred. Otherwise, we won’t make the delivery date.’ During the working day, she does not drink water so that she does not waste time going to the toilet. Despite this, she seldom meets the target. And that means: no bonus.
Without that bonus, Priya earns 32,000 rupees a month (97 euros). Her room costs 7,000 rupees (21 euros), and a meal 300 rupees (1 euro). She has no money left for other things.
‘Since the crisis, we are increasingly hearing stories from our members of textile workers using drugs,’ says Dandeniya. ‘Also in MAS factories that Patagonia works with. They use it to work faster. Sometimes also against the hunger.’
Chamila Thushari, union leader of Dabindu Collective, confirms the story. ‘They use Ice (Crystal Meth) or Babul.’ She points to her collar and to the sole of her shoe. ‘This is how they smuggle it in. The management knows this happens but allows it. All they care about is production targets are being met.’
An employee of a third union, GTZ-GSEU, confirms that drug use among textile workers in the Free Trade Zone is a problem.
Patagonia says these claims are ‘new’ to them and ‘serious’, but says, without evidence, it cannot comment.

A living wage

That Patagonia, known for being sustainable, has its clothes manufactured in the same factories as other much less sustainable brands is seen as an advantage by the company. ‘Patagonia has a powerful brand voice, but we are a quite small player in the apparel sector. Therefore, we are always looking for ways to scale our impact and to elevate the industry standards across the board, bringing other apparel retailers along on the journey with us. So, continuing to engage in shared production facilities is crucial to this work.’
Patagonia wants all people who make clothes to earn a decent wage. In 2015, the company promised that within 10 years, all employees in its supply chain would be earning a living wage that would be enough to live on. That is, enough for food, water, housing, education, healthcare, transport and other essential needs.
With 18 months to go, only 40 per cent of its factories pay a living wage, according to Patagonia. They would not reveal the factories concerned. Suppliers reportedly ‘have the right to maintain their factories’ wage data confidential’.
Patagonia wants all people who make clothes to earn a decent wage. In 2015, the company promised that within 10 years, all employees in its supply chain would be earning a living wage that would be enough to live on. That is, enough for food, water, housing, education, healthcare, transport and other essential needs.
With 18 months to go, only 40 per cent of its factories pay a living wage, according to Patagonia. They would not reveal the factories concerned. Suppliers reportedly ‘have the right to maintain their factories’ wage data confidential’.
To determine a living wage, Patagonia uses the Anker Research Institute’s calculation method. According to that method, you can live decently in urban Sri Lanka if you earn a minimum of 83,231 Sri Lankan rupees (263 euro) a month. Priya’s salary does not even cover half that. And at the recently approved Regal Image print factory, the basic wage is even lower: 21,000 rupees (66 euro), says Fernando.
Thulsi Narayanasamy is frustrated by Patagonia’s approach to sustainability. She is director of advocacy at the Worker Rights Consortium, an independent non-profit organization that monitors and investigates labor conditions in the global apparel and textile industry. ‘Patagonia spends millions on green initiatives. Why can’t they pay the people who make their clothes properly?’
Patagonia says it ‘has no authority over how much textile workers get paid, as they are in no way, shape or form the employer of these workers.’ Narayanasamy, however, is convinced Patagonia can pay a living wage, if the brand would want to. ‘They could bring production in-house or pay more to suppliers that’s ringfenced for wages high enough to achieve a living income. It’s so well established that brand’s pricing practices directly impact wage levels, it’s a fallacy to deny this.’
‘I think we should ask ourselves: why don't clothing brands have their own factories?’ She asks the question, then answers it. 'Brands don't want to be responsible for the people who produce their clothes. All brands benefit from that, including Patagonia.
RESPONSE FROM PATAGONIA When asked why it does not pay its suppliers more for decent wages for workers, Patagonia replied: ‘Relying on one brand to simply cover the gap is a band-aid solution and does not serve the factory in the long run. If the one brand that pays the gap were to leave the factory, then those wages for workers would go away, leaving the factory with a shortfall they would not be able to cover. Additionally, if the brand just writes a check to the factory, then there is no guarantee that the money would go towards workers’ wages. The brand has no authority over how much workers get paid as they are in no way, shape or form the employer of those workers.’
About the long working hours, Patagonia says: ‘Excessive overtime is pervasive globally, which is why it is audited regularly. If we find a problem that can be resolved, we work with our factory partners to implement sustainable solutions. This can take many years, but we find this is the best outcome for the workers and the factory.’
In response to the allegations about drug use among textile workers, Patagonia says: ‘These are serious and new allegations, however without evidence, we are not able to comment on them. We are continuing to conduct our ongoing monitoring program and we remain committed to addressing systemic issues to ensure workers’ wellbeing across our supply chain.’
Link to the article: https://www.ftm.eu/articles/sustainable-clothing-brand-patagonia-uses-same-suppliers-fast-fashion-brands-do-workers-exploited?share=p8cq84oSmbUiJtEQUObUZSPZh8ZNReEKHj0wGJnBMQUMqLcwK9PC1kpMJCev5Mo%3D%26utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=sharebuttonnietleden&utm_source=linkbutton
​
​
​

Proposed change: ADEPT
Make the 45% attack speed upgrade base Make the unit 10+4 damage to light Make the twilight council upgrade +8 damage to Light instead of the 45% attack speed (Disclaimer! Numbers can be changed or tweaked, other ideas can be done) Now how does this change the Adept? Fundamentally not a whole lot but does help some pain points.)
Reduces the nicheness of the unit. Making it better (still not great) against armoured and nerfing it slightly against Light (adding +0.61s to kill a ling or a 40hp worker and +0.01s to kill marine/SCV) Makes it more micro-able Reduces Overkill! Huge issue considering adepts reload time! Makes Adepts weaker in the start of the game in low numbers but makes them stronger as you get more. Gives you reasons to produce an adept over the stalker still slightly lower damage to armoured, can’t attack air but does more dps to light ground (with only 1-2 less range) but save 25 gas. My suggestions increase the benefits of the adept in the army even before their upgrade so they can be made even with charge-lots while barely changing the interaction with worker harass (slight nerf) since range doesn’t benefit the worker harass and the ttk is only slightly lower overall.
PROPOSED CHANGE: ZEALOT ALL VALUES ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE OR ADJUSTMENT I propose splitting charge into two separate upgrades.
Zealot Speed- Increases Zealot movement from 3.15 to 4.725 (current passive increase), costs 50/50, build time 90s (Adjustable timing) and researched on the cyber core (Mind you gateway tech also take 114s to research so if you get legs you don’t have gateway till it’s done and vice versa) Zealot Charge- Temporarily increases the movement speed by 5.67 (Current value) allowing Zealots to intercept nearby enemies and guaranteeing the Zealot will strike the enemy. costs 50/50, build time 100s, researched on the twilight council with the pre-requisite of having Zealot legs. There are a few reasons why I propose this change, increasing the early game ramp up strength of Protoss so they don’t need band-aids like Shield overcharge. Allow Protoss to have slightly improved gateway units and freeing up other potential upgrades from the twilight council because three core upgrades is a little stacked. While strengthening early game comps it does make Protoss charge a little weaker overall since you’ll have to wait for Legs before you can get charge meaning it would hit later than someone going straight to chargelots. Hopefully this will make gateway comps less pigeon-holed and more varied since there would be less punishment on not going charge right away.

Compare the effects of war in 'Bayonet charge' and one other poem
In both 'Bayonet Charge' and 'Charge of the light Brigade', the poets both explore the idea of obedience, discipline and negative mental emotion as effects of war. They both describe soldiers duties in a negative light, and ponder in the idea that soldiers are willing to do anything for their country.
In 'Charge of the light Brigade' Tennyson uses the quote "Theirs not to make reply, theirs but to do and die". This quote shows the dominion that upper ranks have on them, and show that the soldiers are willing to die without question, which is a common effect of war within soldiers. This quote could also show complete blind obedience, and could be seen as a way to convey the soldiers complete discipline, following out orders without a single reply for reason or meaning to the order.
Similarly in 'Bayonet charge' the poet uses the quotation "Like a man who jumps up in the dark and runs", which also shows the complete blind obedience of a soldier as an effect of war. The word "dark" suggests unknown, which could be interpreted as orders being followed without any sort of reasoning or evidence that it is the right thing to do, and that they are simply following orders under their upper ranks. Similarly, the word 'runs' provides a sense of complete certainty, and that there is no tentativity in the soldiers following orders, and that they do things without question
The complete idea of obedience as an effect of war could show the mental impact and effect that war has on the soldiers, as it could be interpreted that their mental state/self worth is so low that they are willing to do absolutely anything for their country, even if it means losing dominion over themselves and destroying any sort of individualism they have.
A difference between the poems is that due to Tennyson being poet lauret, he was presumably urged to portray the sacrifice the soldiers made as noble and brave, rather than being a straight act of blind obedience alike to 'Bayonet Charge'. "Noble 600!" could show this, as Tennyson is seen praising the soldiers act of nobility and bravery in his interpretation, and essentially congratulates the soldiers on their act of blind discipline and action without question. This portrayal of war askews the reality and brutality of war, basically ensuring that future generations serve and provide troops for their future battalions, rather than being honest and providing the unbias truth about the brutal rough conditions described in poems like 'Bayonet Charge'
In contrast, Bayonet Charge provides a sickening reality of war as being an abhorrent scarring experience, providing no filter for the experience he describes, steering away from euphanisms to provide a raw, honest experience of war. Evidence to prove and reinforce this point is "King, Honour, Human Dignity etcetera". This conveys an oppositional viewpoint to the perspective described in "COTLB" by showing that human dignity, the crown and their own honour isnt shown/isnt cared for when in combat, which differs from a stance that poet leauret Tennyson undertakes. This shows that there is a fallacy within the perspective and honour in which 'COTLB' describes, showing war as a sickening strip of any human rights, and showing the lack of appraisal for doing so with the quote "Cold clockwork of the stars and nations" which describes the cold workings/way of function of the government/nation towards soldiers
Any positive critique appreciated!

SIR—"On the authority of an adept” (?) “they” (the Theosophists and Madame Blavatsky) “are all mediums under the influence of the lower spirits” Such is the sentence used by you in an editorial review of Mr. Sinnett’s Occult World (Spiritualist, June 17th). Doubtful as its pertinency might appear, I personally found nothing very objectionable in it, the more so, as elsewhere you do me the honour to express your conviction that (whether controlled by good or bad spirits) I yet am a “strong physical medium”—that term precluding at least the suspicion of my being a regular impostor. This letter then is not directed against you, but rather against the pretensions of a would-be “adept.” Another point should be also attended to before I proceed, in order that the situation may be as clearly defined as possible.
Finding myself for the period of nearly seven years one of the best abused individuals under the sun, I rather got accustomed to that sort of thing. Hence, I would hardly take up the pen now to defend my own character. If people, besides forgetting that I am a woman, and an old woman, are dull enough to fail to perceive that had I declared myself anything in creation, save a Theosophist and one of the founders of our Society, I would have been in every respect—materially as well as socially—better off in the world’s consideration, and that therefore, since, notwithstanding all the persecution and opposition encountered, I persist in remaining and declaring myself one, I cannot well be that charlatan and pretender some people would see in me—I really cannot help it. Fools are unable, and the wise unwilling to see the absurdity of such an accusation, for as Shakespeare puts it:

Folly in fools bears not so strong a note As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote.

It is not then to defend myself that I claim space in your columns, but to answer one whose ex-cathedra utterances have revolted the sense of justice of more than one of our Theosophists in India, and to defend them—who have a claim on all the reverential feeling that my nature is capable of.
A new correspondent, one of those dangerous, quasi-anonymous individuals who abuse their literary privilege of hiding their true personality and thus shirk responsibility behind an initial or two, has lately won a prominent place in the columns of your journal. He calls himself an “adept”; that is easy enough, but does or rather can he prove it? To begin with, in the sight of the Spiritualists as much as in that of sceptics in general, an “adept,” whether he hails from Tibet, India, or London, is all one. The latter will persist in calling him an impostor; and the former, were he even to prove his powers, in seeing in him either a medium or a juggler. Now your “J.K.” when he states in the Spiritualist of June 24th, that “the phenomena attendant upon real adeptship are on an entirely different plane from “Spiritualism” risks, nay is sure, to have every one of the above expletives flung in his face by both the above-mentioned classes.
Could he but prove what he claims, namely, the powers conferring upon a person the title of an initiate, such epithets might well be scorned by him. Aye,—but I ask again, is he ready to make good his claim? The language used by him, to begin with, is not that which a true adept would ever use. It is dogmatic and authoritative throughout, and too full of insulting aspersions against those who are not yet proved to be worse or lower than himself; and fails entirely to carry conviction to the minds of the profane as of those who do know something of adepts and initiates—that it is one of such proficients who now addresses them. Styling himself an adept, whose “Hierophant is a western gentleman,” but a few lines further on he confesses his utter ignorance of the existence of a body which cannot possibly be ignored by any true adept! I say “cannot” for there is no accepted neophyte on the whole globe but at least knows of the Himalayan Fraternity. The sanction to receive the last and supreme initiation, the real “word at low breath” can come but through those fraternities in Egypt, India, and Thibet to one of which belongs “Koot Hoomi Lal Singh.” True, there is “adept” and adept, and they differ, as there are adepts in more than one art and science. I, for one, know in America of a shoemaker, who advertised himself as “an adept in the high art of manufacturing Parisian cothurns.” J.K. speaks of Brothers “on the soul plane,” of “divine Kabbalah culminating in God,” of “slave magic,” and so on, a phraseology which proves to me most conclusively that he is but one of those dabblers in western occultism which were so well represented some years ago, by French-born “Egyptians” and “Algerians,” who told people their fortunes by the Tarot, and placed their visitors within enchanted circles with a Tetragrammaton inscribed in the centre. I do not say J.K. is one of the latter, I beg him to understand. Though quite unknown to me and hiding behind his two initials, I will not follow his rude example and insult him for all that. But I say and repeat that his language sadly betrays him. If a Kabbalist at all, then himself and his “Hierophant” are but the humble self-taught pupils of the mediaeval, and so-called “Christian” Kabbalists; of adepts, who, like Agrippa, Khunrath, Paracelsus, Vaughan, Robert Fludd, and several others, revealed their knowledge to the world but to better conceal it, and who never gave the key to it in their writings. He bombastically asserts his own knowledge and power, and proceeds to pass judgment on people of whom he knows and can know nothing. Of the “Brothers” he says: “If they are true adepts, they have not shown much worldly wisdom, and the organization which is to inculcate their doctrine is a complete failure, for even the very first psychical and physical principles of true Theosophy and occult science are quite unknown to and unpractised by the members of that organization—the Theosophical Society.”
How does he know? Did the Theosophists take him into their confidence? And if he knows something of the British Theosophical Society, what can he know of those in India? If he belongs to any of them, then does he play false to the whole body and is a traitor. And if he does not, what has he to say of its practitioners, since the Society in general, and especially its esoteric sections that count but a very few “chosen ones”—are secret bodies?
The more attentively I read his article the more am I inclined to laugh at the dogmatic tone prevailing in it. Were I a Spiritualist, I would be inclined to suspect in it a good “goak” of John King, whose initials are represented in the signature of J.K. Let him first learn, that mirific Brother of the “Western Hermetic Circle in the soul-plane,” a few facts about the adepts in general, before he renders himself any more ridiculous.
(1) No true adept will on any consideration whatever reveal himself as one, to the profane. Nor would he ever speak in such terms of contempt of people, who are certainly no more silly, and, in many an instance, far wiser than himself. But were even the Theosophists the poor misled creatures he would represent them to be, a true adept would rather help than deride them.
(2) There never was a true Initiate but knew of the secret Fraternities in the East. It is not Eliphas Levi who would ever deny their existence, since we have his authentic signature to the contrary. Even Ρ. B. Randolph, that wondrous, though erratic, genius of America, that half-initiated seer, who got his knowledge in the East, had good reasons to know of their actual existence, as his writings can prove.
(3) One who ever perorates upon his occult knowledge, and speaks of practising his powers in the name of some particular prophet, deity, or Avatar, is but a sectarian mystic at best. He cannot be an adept in the Eastern sense—a Mahatma, for his judgment will always be biased and prejudiced by the colouring of his own special and dogmatic religion.
(4) The great science, called by the vulgar “magic,” and by its Eastern proficients Gupta Vidya, embracing as it does each and every science, since it is the acme of knowledge, and constitutes the perfection of philosophy, is universal: hence—as very truly remarked—cannot be confined to one particular nation or geographical locality. But, as Truth is one, the method for the attainment of its highest proficiency must necessarily be also one. It cannot be subdivided, for, once reduced to parts, each of them, left to itself, will, like rays of light, diverge from, instead of converging to, its centre, the ultimate goal of knowledge; and these parts can rebecome the Whole only by collecting them together again, or each fraction will remain but a fraction.
This truism, which may be termed elementary mathematics for little boys, has to be re-called, in order to refresh the memory of such “adepts” as are too apt to forget that “Christian Kabbalism” is but a fraction of Universal Occult Science. And, if they believe that they have nothing more to learn, then the less they turn to “Eastern Adepts” for information the better and the less trouble for both. There is but one royal road to “Divine Magic”; neglect and abandon it to devote yourself specially to one of the paths diverging from it, and like a lonely wanderer you will find yourself lost in an inextricable labyrinth. Magic, I suppose, existed millenniums before the Christian era; and, if so, are we to think then, with our too learned friends, the modern “Western Kabbalists,” that it was all Black Magic, practised by the “Old firm of Devil & Co.”? But together with every other person who knows something of what he or she talks about, I say that it is nothing of the kind; that J.K. seems to be superbly ignorant even of the enormous difference which exists between a Kabbalist and an Occultist. Is he aware, or not, that the Kabbalist stands, in relation to the Occultist, as a little detached hill at the foot of the Himalayas, to Mount Everest? That what is known as the Jewish Kabbala of Simon Ben Jochai, is already the disfigured version of its primitive source, the Great Chaldean Book of Numbers? That as the former, with its adaptation to the Jewish Dispensation, its mixed international Angelology and Demonology, its Orphiels and Raphaels and Greek Tetragrams, is a pale copy of the Chaldean, so the Kabbala of the Christian Alchemists and Rosicrucians is naught in its turn but a tortured edition of the Jewish. By centralizing the Occult Power and his course of actions, in some one national God or Avatar, whether in Jehovah or Christ, Brahma or Mahomet, the Kabbalist diverges the more from the one central Truth.
It is but the Occultist, the Eastern adept, who stands a Free Man, omnipotent through its own Divine Spirit as much as man can be on earth. He has rid himself of all human conceptions and religious side-issues; he is at one and the same time a Chaldean Sage, a Persian Magi, a Greek Theurgist, an Egyptian Hermetist, a Buddhist Rahat and an Indian Yogi. He has collected into one bundle all the separate fractions of Truth widely scattered over the nations, and holds in his hand the One Truth, a torch of light which no adverse wind can bend, blow out or even cause to waver. Not he the Prometheus who robs but a portion of the Sacred Fire, and therefore finds himself chained to Mount Caucasus for his intestines to be devoured by vultures, for he has secured God within himself and depends no more on the whim and caprice of either good or evil deities.
True, “Koot Hoomi” mentions Buddha. But it is not because the brothers hold him in the light of God or even of “a God,” but simply because he is the Patron of the Thibetan Occultists, the greatest of the Illuminati and adepts, self-initiated by his own Divine Spirit or “God-self” unto all the mysteries of the invisible universe. Therefore to speak of imitating “the life of Christ,” or that of Buddha, or Zoroaster, or any other man on earth chosen and accepted by any one special nation for its God and leader, is to show oneself a Sectarian even in Kabbalism, that fraction of the one “Universal Science”—Occultism. The latter is pre-historic and is coeval with intelligence. The Sun shines for the heathen Asiatic as well as for the Christian European and for the former still more gloriously, I am glad to say.
To conclude, it is enough to glance at that sentence of more than questionable propriety, and more fit to emanate from the pen of a Jesuit than that of a Kabbalist, which allows of the supposition that the “Brothers” are only a branch of the old established firm of “Devil and Co.” to feel convinced that beyond some “Abracadabra” dug out from an old mouldy MS. of Christian Kabbalism, J.K. knows nothing. It is but on the unsophisticated profane, or a very innocent Spiritualist, that his bombastic sentences, all savouring of the Anche is son pittore, that he may produce some sensation.
True, there is no need of going absolutely to Thibet or India to find some knowledge and power “which are latent in every human soul”; but the acquisition of the highest knowledge and power require not only many years of the severest study enlightened by a superior intelligence and an audacity bent by no peril; but also as many years of retreat in comparative solitude, and association with but students pursuing the same object, in a locality where nature itself preserves like the neophyte an absolute and unbroken stillness if not silence! where the air is free for hundreds of miles around of all mephytic influence; the atmosphere and human magnetism absolutely pure, and—no animal blood is spilt. Is it in London or even the most country-hidden village of England that such conditions can be found?
—H. P. BLAVATSKY
Bombay, July 20th.
Spiritualist (London), August 12, 1881

I'm trying to decide whether its worth bringing my own lights or renting the professional ones for the shoot.
I have a three light Impact set with 4 bulbs each and softboxes. What advantage is there to higher end lights?

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0092656612001390
There's a lot to take from this but to put it simply -
Facial Attractiveness is OP.

Unattractiveness has been linked to multiple negative psychosocial outcomes. ► The relationship between attractiveness and aggression remains unexamined. ► Unattractive males displayed more proactive and reactive physical aggression. ► Attractive females displayed more derogation of their opponent. ► (Un)Attractiveness predicts aggression as robustly as callous/unemotional traits.

Digging in to the study a bit more this is what I interpreted.

• Attractive women are more likely to insult/degrade or view competition in a negative light (obvious)
  
• Facial attractiveness is a timeless and unrestricted indicator of positive evolutionary traits and therefore extremely reliable.
  

This may be because across multiple studies, facial attractiveness reliably relates to various important life outcomes including longevity, physical strength, fertility and even IQ, leading some researchers to dub it an “honest” signal of reproductive potential (Gallup & Frederick, 2010, p. 247). Facial attractiveness also presents a research advantage because it shows high observer agreement across ages, and in contrast to other biological or artificial cues like waist to hip ratio, or use of cosmetics, it is less susceptible to influence by cultural and social norms

• The halo effect begins for god damned BABIES that have attractive symmetrical faces, including how their own parents will treat them. A parent will literally treat their own ugly kid as stupider and more poorly behaved. Fucking retard shit.

For example, observers and parents give attractive infants better ratings in behavior, health, and intelligence measures, and mothers of attractive infants are more affectionate and playful with their babies

• The ugly dog gets kicked, the ugly dog gets angry, the ugly dog is a bad dog, the bad dog gets kicked. (How dare you fight back, ugly dog)

Parents and observers of unattractive infants are more likely to have negative attitudes towards them (Langlois et al., 1995, Stephan and Langlois, 1984), and later in life, unattractive children may be more likely to be physically abused, treated less favorably by teachers in preschool, and bullied more during pre-teen years (Roscoe et al., 1985, Sweeting and West, 2001). The aforementioned findings are notable because these negative attitudes from caregivers and peers have been etiologically linked to aggression later in life

• Ugly people have more mental issues and receive less effective medical care

lower attractiveness has been linked to worse psychiatric outcomes even after accounting for factors such as age, education, frequency of hospitalization, and pre-discharge adjustment

• Ugliness makes people assume that a person will have similar negative traits that associate with psychopathy and undesirable behaviour. People assume they will be mean, unempathetic, uncooperative, untrustworthy, etc based on appearance alone.

a study found that observers rated digitally “masculinized” photographs of men and women’s faces as less attractive, more dominant, less honest, less emotional, and less cooperative (Perrett et al., 1998). Some of those same traits (dominance, self-centeredness, and unemotionality) are the hallmark of psychopathy, a personality constellation consistently related to interpersonal aggression in correlational and experimental studies

• In relation to the study snippets, the research showed that when their egos were threatened ugly men were much more likely to degrade and insult others attractiveness (makes sense given how often I've seen inkwells nit pick details in women's appearance) and not surprisingly, attractive women didn't take criticism that well.

Consistent with the proposal that “ugly is bad” (Dermer & Thiel, 1975), the results showed that, among males, low attractiveness was related to physical aggression and derogation of the “opponent’s” ad attractiveness. Alternatively, consistent with data showing that attractive women may be more sensitive to insult

There's some other interesting studies linked here also. "Narcissim and physical appearance", etc.
Black pill is supreme because it doesn't just say "attraction is everything", but rather the social conditioning from day fucking one by your very parents and caregivers is adjusted by your facial attractiveness and the way the world treats you is consistently based upon it. The entire world is against you if you're ugly from day one, and attractive women will treat you worse.
Copers are the worst because I always see women and men saying "we don't have to cater to your feelings" and that's true. The guys who are shut out of the game make the black pill look bad when they expect the world to change for them.
That being said, the black pill is important because it shows people's internal bias' and that we have a responsibility to treat one another with love and respect regardless of appearance. So an effort on the part of those who are in the middle of lower ends to be decent to eachother and those beneath them is key too. Because happiness is still possible and the belief that a person is bad because of social conditioning is something that can be combated even if one is an ugly fuck.
Meaning a person can still be good and happy in life even if the world thinks they are shit because they have a recessed chin.

Had the car for three years with no prior issues over 14k miles. Two days ago, I noticed the low fuel warning sound on start-up, and since then I get it every time I turn the ignition. It's the same noise I also get if a door is opened and the engine is running - and to be clear, the first thing I did was check every door and top up the engine, to no avail.
A common issue I've seen online is to do with mobilisation - but the warning light for it doesn't illuminate (except with all the others, as part of start-up) and using my spare key, with a full battery, doesn't fix the issue.
I've checked the basics, like engine oil and tire pressure, and everything seems fine. And of course, there's no warning lights or I'd be investigating that. I've had to drive the car on a couple of short journeys since, and it seems completely normal - except it's warning me about something when I start, and I have no clue what.
Any advice would be much appreciated!