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blurredcolour · 7 months ago

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In My Blood | Part One

In My Blood Masterlist

Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader

The aftermath of the Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission floods the Belgian countryside with American fliers, including one very injured Curtis Biddick. On a regular supply run to a Resistance contact, you suddenly find him sharing your regular place of shelter for the night, a simple coincidence that very well may change the course of the rest of your life.

Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Violence, Weapons, Spy Craft, Death, Injuries, Angst, Suffering, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.

Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.

This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4200

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August 17, 1943

Pouring from the sky like a summer rain…you had never seen so many downed airmen in one day. It seemed the American Air Force had mounted some great attack. An attack that was met with what must have been every single Luftwaffe fighter plane that now infected your native Belgian soil. The majority were captured by Nazi soldiers, Gestapo, or collaborators the moment their boots hit the ground, keen eyes following the tracks of parachutes as they floated to the ground. But the lucky ones got away, stayed hidden, or were greeted by more friendly faces.

The efforts you had been putting in over the past three months on the exfiltration routes for downed airmen in Western Europe – helping to rebuild and reshape the Pat O’Leary Line into the Françoise Line after the arrest of its former chief, connecting the Belgian-run Comet Line with monetary and equipment-based support from MI9’s agent Jerome in Paris – the timing could not have been better for the sheer demand that the events of the day would put upon them. They were as strong as they could be and yet undoubtedly these numbers would overwhelm them.

Born the only child of a Belgian Jonkheer and the second daughter of the Marquess of Abergavenny, that you would end up as an agent of the Special Operations Executive had been as foreseeable as the Nazi invasion of Belgium. Unexpected and yet altogether unsurprising given circumstance and history.

Entirely too fond of fast cars, cigarettes, gin, and learning the fascinating operations of your father’s iron factories in Wallonia for your mother’s taste, you had been forced off to England in the spring of 1939 to support your cousin Philomena Nevill during her debut. It had been hoped, you supposed, that under the watchful eye of your grandmother, the Dowager Marchioness, that your ‘good breeding’ might suddenly become apparent. That the tomboy whom her father adoringly called mon petit monstre might be transformed into a lady under the onslaught of balls, polo matches, regattas, and horse races all whilst trussed up like some prized pony at a meat market. Never mind that you were three years older than the fresh flesh of the debutantes on display.

All that had been achieved was to put you in the same rooms as the likes of Lord Halifax, Prime Minister Chamberlain, and First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill. The only topic of discussion you had been interested in was the growing threat posed by Hitler with his growing Nazi empire and the fact that your parents remained in your home country right on his doorstep had weighed heavily upon you. There had been a tremendous argument in September, following the invasion of Poland and declaration of war by Britain and her allies. Your father had insisted he must remain to care for his business, his workers, his property. Your mother had insisted that she would remain to care for him. As one united front, all your relatives, including your uncle, the current Marquess, had insisted you remain in England where it was safe.

And so you had found yourself marooned on that unfamiliar island through the fall and winter of the phony war, dread heavy and sour in your stomach as military preparation took precedence over everything. With naught much else to do, you had volunteered with the Red Cross, fundraising as a member of the upper class, outspoken in your distaste for fascism. The watchful waiting came to an abrupt end on May 10, 1940, when the world awoke to the news that the Nazis had invaded the Netherlands, Luxembourg, France, and Belgium in one fell swoop.

Within eighteen days, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and Belgium had surrendered, France was on the verge, and you were orphaned. The hollow, inherited title of Jonkvrouw was all that remained of your parents after an unfortunate run in with a Stuka dive bomber on a bridge out of Brussels, so the letter from your father’s personal secretary read. The post-mark was from Marseilles, confirming that your father had sent everyone else to safety before trying to obtain the very same for himself. It had simply been too late.

Lest you fall to pieces over the loss of your home and family in such quick succession, to be caught grieving in unfamiliar formal homes amongst people you barely knew, you had sought refuge in purpose. Volunteering for the Auxiliary Territorial Service, you put your skills as a motorist to good use. Yet it never felt like enough. Driving lorries full of supplies across the English countryside while sailors and airmen risked their lives made you feel utterly impotent, particularly as the horrific bombing campaigns wore on. Mercifully, more meaningful opportunities found their way to you in the form of Vera Atkins and the SOE. Your social circles overlapped, on occasion, and she had proposed an altogether different use of your unique upbringing, for the four languages you spoke simply by virtue of traipsing across Belgium on your father’s coattails – for the country consisted of French, Dutch, and German speaking peoples and he had insisted you learn them all. While your mother had insisted you spoke only the King’s English with her.

The preliminary school had been difficult, filled with unexpected challenges and daring tasks such as crossing a rope strung between two trees high above the ground. Pure fury at the invasion of your homeland and murder of your parents had carried you through onto the paramilitary school, where you had learned how to master weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. It was then onto parachuting school, as the only way to return to now fully occupied Europe was by low-flying aircraft in the dead of night, and finally finishing school to hone your spy craft.

It was early 1943 by the time you were ready to be dropped into occupied territory, all under the auspices of a deployment to Scotland with the ATS, your extended family none the wiser as you plummeted into an empty field in Northern France to begin your work. By the time the heat of August came around you were proficient at cycling long distances with burdens of weapons and cash, sneaking across the border, making connections on both the French and Belgian side. Making one such delivery of fresh funds for the Françoise line contact brought you to the Flanders village of Beverst that warm summer day.

The small clinic of Doctor Legot, with his flat above, boasted a sizeable cellar, perfect for hosting resistance meetings or the occasional guest such as yourself. He was also a natural community figure for those from all walks of life to visit, obtaining more than just medical advice, though thus far the Gestapo had not caught wise. Letting yourself through the gate into the back garden, you concealed your bicycle amidst some conveniently overgrown shrubbery and slung your handbag over your shoulder before carrying your worn suitcase into the clinic which seemed rather empty for a Tuesday afternoon.

Greeting his receptionist Edda in Dutch, she gestured you down the hall to Dr. Legot’s office. Proceeding with a nod of thanks, you knocked on the door, quietly stepping in as he called out casually in Dutch.

“Enter!”

As you swung the door open, his head, covered in the thin remainder of caramel hair, shorn close to control its obvious curl, lifted to regard you warmly before falling serious.

“You could not have come on a better day, Marie.” He spoke solemnly, addressing you by the cover name bestowed upon you by the SOE, snapping the patient file he had been reviewing shut.

Stepping fully into the office, you quietly shut the door behind you, setting the suitcase on his desk to deliver the promised funds.

“Indeed, it seems you have been blessed with quite a few visitors today, Doctor.”

You watched silently as he carefully took stack after stack of Belgian francs, tucking them into his safe under his desk.

“More than we have places for, honestly. If you are looking for a place for the night you will have to share accommodations.”

Tight as your grip was on your facial expressions, you still felt your eyebrows twitch in surprise as Dr. Legot rarely housed downed airmen as he himself was not able to speak English and found their behaviour wildly unpredictable, at best. He was a man who preferred things neat and orderly. It was only by respecting his preferences that you had earned repeated shelter under his roof.

“I know, Marie,” he continued, obviously having caught your micro expression, “but the man is in a bad way. Brought his plane down in Maes’ orchard – a feat the boys could not stop commenting upon as they carried him in, even as the pilot was bleeding all over my floor. No one has even asked him if he wants to surrender or explained what trying to evade capture entails.”

“Hm.” You intoned thoughtfully. “Does he need a hospital?”

The middle-aged man settled his broad frame into his worn wooden desk chair with a pronounced ‘creak,’ exhaling heavily in contemplation. “Not need, no. If he chooses to run, he will need maybe two months recovery, but I can manage I suppose.”

The furrow of his brow and the pinched lines around his mouth spoke to his distinct lack of enthusiasm at the prospect, but like so many involved in resistance, his hatred for the Nazis greatly outweighed any other personal preferences after three years of occupation.

“I will give him the speech then, he ought to make an informed decision. Would you mind covering his eyes for me in case his choice is surrender?”

Relief washed across the man’s features, and he nodded quickly, grabbing a roll of bandages.

“Come down in five minutes.”

You nodded in agreement, allowing yourself those five minutes of rest in the safety of Legot’s office, a place you could let your guard down for a little while, until the minute hand of your watch completed its fifth trip around the face. Making your way to the back of the clinic, you stepped into the storage room to the open trap door leading down to the cellar, descending the worn ladder carefully.

Turning in the space lit only by candles, you frowned slightly to see the wounded man, one leg protruding from beneath the sheets swathed in bandages – most likely covered in burns. Stepping closer to the cot that you realized had been carried down especially for this patient, your small twin bed untouched in its usual corner, you swallowed tightly to see more bandages wrapped around the man’s neck, his right arm in a plaster cast and sling. That truly must have been some landing.

“You are certain he does not need a hospital?” You were not usually one to question a doctor’s opinion, but the look of this man left you full of doubt.

Would you not be risking his life hiding him in this cellar in this condition?

You watched a smile tug at his chapped, pink lips.

“You brought a dame, doc?”

Despite the fact that his eyes were covered in bandages, for the sake of protecting your identity, you could definitely read the mischief in his expression.

“Quite certain.” Doctor Legot bristled and gestured sharply for you to get on with it.

Clearing your throat, you summoned all the authority of your grandmother, as well as her haughty vowels, as you spoke. “Airman, listen carefully.”

The pilot’s head snapped slightly in your direction. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He grinned broadly.

The unexpected statement stole the wind from your sails, drawing an incredulous laugh from your throat. “You cannot even see me.”

“Can hear it in your voice.” He insisted smugly and you shook your head sharply – in part to clear it.

“Regardless, I am here you to offer you a choice. We can take you now to the local authorities for surrender, you will become a prisoner of war under the protection of the Geneva Convention and receive further medical care in a hospital. You will remain a prisoner for the rest of the war in relative safety. Or, you can remain here, rest and heal, and when you are ready, we will try and get you back to England. You would be dressed as a civilian and if caught, treated as a spy and shot without trial. Knowing all this, what is your choice? Turn yourself in or try and escape?”

“I will never turn myself into those Nazi fucks…pardon my French ma’am.” He smirked and you bit back another laugh at the preposterous expression.

“Very well. You will stay here and do everything Doctor Legot says. No argument, no trouble.”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

Sighing at his incorrigible nature, you turned to the doctor and nodded.

“He will stay and try to escape.”

“Very well, I have one more appointment today and then I will bring you both some dinner later. Thank you, Marie.” He made his way up the ladder stiffly before securing the trapdoor shut, closing you both into your hiding place.

Reaching forward you gently began to unwind the bandages from his eyes, breath hitching in your throat at the brilliant blue that squinted back up at you.

“Knew you were gorgeous. Marie? I’m Curt.”

“Pleased to meet you.” You replied, doing your best to maintain some professional sense of formality. “You should rest.” Moving to the opposite side of the cellar, you sat onto the mattress that was about as exhausted as you, the springs groaning in protest.

“Yeah, probably right…hey did, did the Doc say if they pulled anyone else from the plane?” His expression was filled with a boyish hopefulness that made you long for a better answer.

“He didn’t, no, but I will ask around tomorrow.”

A soft smile graced his features. “Thanks gorgeous, you’re a gem.” He sighed drowsily and you watched as he was quickly pulled into sleep, so very fragile draped across the cot, swaddled in all those bandages.

In just eight weeks would he truly be ready to face tense train rides and a hike across the Pyrenees?

Your doubts were greatly eased the next time you laid your eyes upon him five weeks later, returning from a guiding run to Toulouse with several airmen who had been downed that day in August including a man named Claytor with a rather remarkable twang to his speech. You bore candles, medical supplies, and extra rations for Doctor Legot, knowing he was undoubtedly going through all at a prodigious rate with his unexpected long-term guest in the cellar. Your trusty suitcase also held an Agatha Christie murder mystery, an English book procured at great difficulty, and a selection of French comic books – while he may not speak the language, you were hoping the pictures would be sufficient entertainment in his subterranean dwelling.

As you climbed down the familiar ladder in the candlelit cellar, handbag swinging on your shoulder, you were startled to find Curt on his feet, looking prepared to try and catch you if you should fall, even with one arm still in a cast. Reaching for your suitcase as the doctor lowered it down for you, he cried your name in greeting.

“Marie! Thought you got lost or something up there.” His grin could only be described as cheeky, his charmingly blunt features only growing more handsome under the display of his playful side. He was dressed in clothes that had no doubt been obtained from a sympathetic local; brown woollen trousers held up by suspenders over a blue flannel shirt, a pair of worn leather boots on his feet.

“Curt.” You nodded politely, setting your case on the foot of your bed. “You are looking well.”

“Doc has performed a miracle, just waiting on this bone to finish healing, then I’ll be right as rain.” He nodded firmly, bandages replaced by a network of fresh red scars creeping up the left side of his neck into his dark brown hair.

Unlocking the latches on your luggage, you opened it carefully, retrieving the assortment of reading material you had collected. “Well, I thought since you might no longer be sleeping so much you might…appreciate something to read.”

Curt’s eyes, clearer than your last encounter, dropped to the comic books and novel you held out to him, eyes widening before he took them with a slow grin. “Been thinking about me out there on your travels?”

“Ensuring your stay with the good doctor remains without incident.” You replied nonchalantly, turning back to organizing your belongings before tucking the suitcase beneath the bed.

When you turned back to him, sinking down onto the mattress to rest your sore legs after your long cycle from Antwerp, he was watching you with a bemused expression.

“Appreciated all the same, Marie. Maybe I’ll learn a little French or something.”

“I thought…maybe the pictures?” You tilted your head and he nodded quickly.

“Definitely.” His grin was all too warm, showing his perfect American teeth and made you turn your attention to the small date book you kept in your shoulder bag, quickly looking over your coded appointments for the next few days.

There were several drops arranged for the area – weapons and radios directly flown from England, set to arrive over the next few nights. Most for the Belgian resistance, though two radios were earmarked for the Comet Line. Night drops were some of the most dangerous things you attempted, but when they were successful, the supplies, otherwise impossible to obtain under Nazi occupation, were invaluable.

“Sure look serious over there, gorgeous. Furrow those brows any harder and they’ll get stuck like that.” Curt’s voice cut through your concentration, your head jerking up to blink up at him as though you were startled he was still there.

The sound of the trap door scraping open saved you from trying to produce some reply. “That’ll be dinner.” You murmured, walking to the bottom of the ladder to accept one bowl and then another of thin vegetable soup followed by half a loaf of bread.

You nodded gratefully to Curt as he stepped forward to take one of the bowls with his good hand.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“See you in a few hours, Marie.”

Carefully setting your bowl on dusty brick floor, you tore the bread roughly in half, offering him the larger portion before retrieving your soup and retreating to your bed.

“He doesn’t cook too bad for a doctor.” Curt commented after swallowing a large sip of soup, taking from the rim of his bowl, and you could not help your small smile.

“I think he enjoys it? Talks about ingredients a lot – how hard some of them are to come by lately.” You shrugged and ate more slowly, savouring every bite as it had been a few days since you had been able to enjoy a warm meal, and Legot was indeed a skilled cook.

“How ‘bout you? You cook?”

You barely contained your wry laugh, shaking your head. Even if you’d had access to a kitchen these days, you certainly had not been raised anywhere near a stove. “My lifestyle isn’t really conducive to cooking, unfortunately.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “My Ma would probably skin me alive if I tried to get in her way in the kitchen. Sisters, too. My Pa and I knew better than to get involved in things we’re hopeless at.”

Licking your spoon clean of every last morsel of soup before moving to swipe a piece of bread through the bowl, you could not help your curiosity. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Two. The apartment back home isn’t big, but the five of us got along alright.” His smile was broad as he leaned back against the cinderblock wall, food long ingested. “What about you? Your family? Where are you from?”

His questions were numerous, bubbling out of him rapidly and making you swallow the half-chewed chunk of bread in your mouth roughly. “Belgium. Do not have one.” You replied evasively before taking another rough bite.

“Just fell out of the sky then? Like some kind of angel?” He teased and you choked a little on your next swallow before managing to get it down.

It would not do for him to know how oddly accurate his jest had been.

“I have to run an errand later tonight, so I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep.” You stood to dust the crumbs from your skirt, setting your empty bowl on the floor.

“An errand in the middle of the night…?”

“Mn.” You grunted in agreement as you toed off your shoes, pulling back the covers before sliding in between the sheets, laying with your back to him.

“Say, Marie?” He asked quietly and you slid your eyes back open.

“Yes?”

“Did you manage to ask around ‘bout…my crew?” There was a soft vulnerability to his tone, his playful bravado seeming to melt away, that made your heart drop.

You honestly had not been sure if he would have remembered that conversation weeks ago, barely conscious and in so much pain. You had of course done as promised, swinging by the Maes farm only to be told that he had was the sole survivor, the rest of the crew set to be buried in the local cemetery by the Nazis – with military honours. What an oddly cruel irony that seemed, to only afford your enemy honour in death.

“I’m sorry, Curt.” You shifted onto your side to face him. “There was no one else who survived.”

An impassive mask fell over his face, his animated expression going blank as he nodded before shifting to lay back on his cot, tucking his hands behind his head. “Thanks for checking.” He mumbled quietly.

“Of course.” You replied softly watching him turn his back to you before doing the same with a soft sigh, duty reminding you that you needed to sleep while you could, a long night ahead of you.

It felt as though you had barely fallen asleep when the scraping of the trap door woke you abruptly. Tossing the covers from your body, you grabbed your handbag, feeling the reassuring weight of your .25 calibre Wembley semi-automatic pistol and F-S knife contained within. Curt glanced back over his shoulder as you slid into your shoes, and you nodded to him.

“Go back to sleep, errand time.” You whispered, collecting both of your supper dishes to pass up to Doctor Legot before ascending the ladder yourself.

Cycling out to the appointed field, you waited hidden amongst the trees with several members of the resistance, the silence of the night unsettling. You knew the plane would fly in low to avoid radar, would cut the engine close to the target to throw off nearby soldiers, but it was a long way from the coast to here. The distant drone of a plane engine reaching your ears made your pulse jump and you forced your breathing to remain even and quiet, every muscle tensing as even the sound of the plane fell silent. Squinting through the trees into the night sky, you licked your lips in anticipation as you spotted the first of several crates falling towards the ground, suspended below parachutes to slow their descent.

Clutching your small spade tightly, you waited until the supplies began landing on the ground before the entire group emerged from the foliage to begin disconnecting the parachutes. Working in concert with others you dug a hole and quickly tossed the telltale silk in before covering it up with earth and tamping it down. Securing the two radios for the Comet Line, cleverly disguised as suitcases, you helped load the rest of the crates and spades into the waiting truck before everyone quickly dispersed into the night.

While your inclination was the cycle headlong towards the safety of the clinic, you forced yourself to maintain a reasonable speed, one that would not attract attention, while taking a rather circuitous route. The eastern horizon was just beginning to lighten as you returned to your hiding place, using the spare key to sneak in the back. Taking a moment to wash your hands in the small washroom for patients, you then carefully descended with the radios and closed the trapdoor. It made quite a racket as it slid home when pulled from the inside, startling Curt from his rest and you frowned apologetically.

“Sorry, everything is fine, go back to sleep.” You murmured, setting the newly procured radios off to the side.

“You’re just getting back now?” He scrubbed a hand down his face tiredly, glancing at his watching blearily.

“Don’t fret about me, rest up, regain your strength.” You smiled wearily and slid back into your bed gratefully.

“There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Marie…” A jaw-cracking yawn overtook his statement before he shimmied down beneath his blankets and succumb to sleep once more.

“You have no idea.” You whispered under your breath, settling in for a few hours more sleep before you had to begin your journey to deliver the newly acquired radios to the Comet Line before moving onto the next drop destination.

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Read Part Two

In My Blood Masterlist

Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra

#curtis biddick x reader #curt biddick x reader #curtis biddick #curt biddick #mota fic #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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athena5898 · 3 months ago

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KHARTOUM, Sudan (Sudan Tribune) — The Sudanese army launched a major offensive against the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in the capital Khartoum on Wednesday, targeting several areas controlled by the paramilitary group in the centre, west, and south of the city.

Clashes erupted around 2:00 AM near the strategic “Al-Istritagia” site close to the Al-Muqrin area in western Khartoum. Government forces were reported to have crossed several bridges towards Khartoum, and smoke plumes were seen rising from the vicinity of the Armored Corps south of Khartoum.

The Sudanese army’s warplanes flew extensively over Omdurman, coinciding with reports of airstrikes targeting the “Al-Istritagia” headquarters in Al-Muqrin, Khartoum, which the RSF seized from the army in June.

Local sources told Sudan Tribune that the sounds of clashes and smoke plumes were observed in central Khartoum at the Arab Market, the army’s General Command headquarters, and near the army’s Signal Corps south of Khartoum Bahri.

Smoke was also reported rising from the Al-Muhandisin area, under the army’s control in Omdurman.

Sudan Tribune’s correspondent reported hearing clashes and gunfire between the army from northern Omdurman and the Rapid Support Forces from northern Khartoum Bahri. The army shelled Rapid Support Forces positions in Khartoum Bahri with heavy artillery from northern Omdurman, and smoke rose from the Al-Azariqab and Halfaya areas in northern Khartoum Bahri, coinciding with the army’s artillery shelling.

WhatsApp and Telegram groups affiliated with the Sudanese army reported that its forces launched a ground attack on Singa, the capital of Sennar state, which is controlled by the RSF, and conducted airstrikes on Al-Damazin, the capital of East Darfur state, considered a stronghold of the RSF.

General Yasir Al-Atta, the assistant commander-in-chief of the Sudanese army, had previously spoken about a comprehensive attack on all theatres of operations, by air and land, to destroy the RSF and its allied forces.

The advisor to the RSF commander, Elbasha Tbaeq, said in a statement on X that their forces repelled the Sudanese army’s attempts to cross the Halfaya Bridge towards Bahri and the Iron and Fatih Bridges towards Khartoum. He also mentioned the movement of their forces from the Armored Corps in the Al-Shajara area south of Khartoum.

Tbaeq indicated that the RSF has mobile forces in the desert north of El Fasher affiliated with Minni Minawi and Gibril Ibrahim movements. The joint forces had previously released videos showing hundreds of vehicles loaded with soldiers and equipment, stating they had arrived in El Fasher.

#sudan #free sudan

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thesimblrofficedirectory · 1 year ago

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Welcome to The Simblr Office Directory

This blog is an archive of the submissions for the office-centric OC prompt posted by the light of Simblr, @kashisun.

Here you can browse all the amazing creations submitted by your fellow simblrs. Feel free to scroll to your delight or click one of the links under the cut to see who's on roster under (or over) a particular bureau or delegation.

Want to be added to the directory or confirm that you've been queued? Just include a link to your post in an ask off anon and it will be queued within 48 hours. Until we get through the backlog and can queue at a more leisurely pace, all ask submissions will receive a confirmation. You can always mention us, but we won't be able to provided confirmation for that method.

Leaving the company? If you'd like your post removed, just include a link to the post in an ask off anon and it will be removed. Sideblogs may require additional verification. Please allow, at most, 48 hours for the request to be honored. Removal requests will not be confirmed, only acted upon.

Every company's hierarchy is a little different. Designations for this directory are based on some of the companies I've worked for, but especially on the multi-media marketing company I work for now.

Bureaus and Their Delegations

Delegations with an * currently have low or no headcount (posted and queued). Excludes leadership.

Bureau of Client Engagement

Leadership

Billing*

Escalations*

Product Support*

Quality Assurance*

Sales*

Bureau of Compliance (Bureau-specific Internal Affairs and Auditing)

Leadership

Client Engagement*

Facilities*

Finance*

Human Resources*

Information and Technology*

Legal (General)

Legal (Leadership)

Marketing*

Bureau of Facilities

Leadership

Catering*

Environmental (Janitorial, HVAC, and Plumbing)*

Mechanical (Electrical, Elevators, Equipment Maintenance)*

Premise* (Grounds Maintenance and Real Estate)

Purchasing* (From pushpins to pallet jacks)

Security

Warehousing* (Shipping, Receiving, Mail room, and Inventory)

Bureau of Finance

Leadership

Accounting

Asset Management*

Investments*

Travel and Accommodations*

Vendor Relations*

Bureau of Human Resources

Leadership

Career Development (Internships and Internal Role Transitions)

Dependent Care*

Employee Activities Committee (Members are volunteers)

Employee Benefits*

Floating Delegates (Administration) (For profiles that list a nondescript secretary/admin/receptionist/assistant role)

Floating Delegates (General) (For profiles that do not list a position)

Floating Delegates (Leadership) (For profiles that list a nondescript managerial role)

Health Services*

Payroll*

Recruiting*

Training*

Union Relations*

Bureau of Information & Technology

Leadership

Data Security*

Infrastructure*

Public Relations

Research and Development*

Systems and Devices*

Telecommunications*

Bureau of Marketing

Leadership

Copy

Design

Planning and Implementation*

Board of Directors

Chief Officers

CEO - Chief Executive Officer/President

COO - Chief Operations Officer/Vice President

CCO - Chief Compliance Officer/Vice President

CFO - Chief Finance Officer/Vice President

CITO - Chief Information and Technology Officer/Vice President

CMO - Chief Marketing Officer/Vice President

Executive Administration* (Admins that report to chief officers)

#new simblr #the simblr office #thesimblroffice #pinned

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mishy-mashy · 1 year ago

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The Resistance squatted in abandoned buildings. They were squatters.

Before I show the panels that show they used abandoned buildings, I just want to be logical about this for a moment.

It doesn't make much sense to assume these guys - looking around jump-into-university age (18-26) - could afford to make underground bunkers and metal-plated halls all across Japan, for their base. They wouldn't have the time, resources, or even support from others to make these places.

Where do they find the metal to hammer in? The posts? The knowledge of actually building tunnels or buildings from scratch without them falling apart?

Other than that, having a single stationary base (above-ground, for example), is not going to survive. All For One's supporters fight anyone who opposes him without him needing to say anything.

AFO rules Japan right now. Everyone is wary of each other. Look at how Bruce describes it as "the harshest era";

As All For One's supporters attack his opposers of their own will, and supporters don't even realize they're on his side, the Resistance has to constantly be on the move. They can't really trust anyone.

They can't have stationary bases, nor can they afford ANYTHING to make them. They would've been caught immediately trying to do a big project like that, especially if they needed supplies to do so from someone who likely works for AFO, even without knowing.

Japan was in economic and social turmoil. They can't trust the market to keep going and grocery stores to be open. Look at how Japan is with All For One and Tomura; people band together and stores are looted.

Money is obsolete. Society is divided between humans and "monsters" (Ability-users). You can't trust anyone because anyone could be his pawn. Time is running up as his control spreads everyday. Resources are being looted left and right. It's too dangerous to go outside alone. Even if you have a stun gun, what does that mean against Ability-users?

So what do they do with their limited resources? Trying to hide from the big guy? What "bases" do they have?

They hunker down in abandoned places that already exist and, again, are abandoned. No one's going to come looking for them in places that people have run from and left behind. Because these places are literally just that: places no one wants anymore.

You hide a tree in a forest. You don't make a big, special base somewhere that says "I am here!", and they don't have the resources or time to burrow underground or build that.

Hide in an abandoned building among many others. There's not many people in abandoned places, if they happen to be there at all. The Resistance isn't going to be found in the deserted buildings, but they still have to keep moving, because someone might be trailing them.

When they take Yoichi from the vault,

They're in a house. The couch is ripped, the mug is cracked, and so is the wall, with a questionable stain in the background. There are signs of fighting and abandonment, but it works.

Houses have food. Houses have clothes. Houses have beds. It's enough to sit in for a bit and heat up some water.

Not everyone packed their things and run. Some people just had to RUN. And when some places are full-on abandoned from an exodus, the Resistance is definitely gonna find some stuff there in the new "safe area".

Look below at where Kudo and Bruce hole up after Yoichi's death. No one's outside, there's a destroyed car, and there's some smoke further up the road.

The hospital/clinic room Bruce uses is ripped apart and unsanitary, but it's still the best they can do. I think that houses and a hospital would be their best bet for survival/using as a base; resources, lodging, and some sort of safety exist there. Especially in a hospital, which would have backup generators, a camera system, and even a PA system. Hospitals have to accommodate for lots of people (food, space, lodging), and have a lot of medical equipment they can use.

Basically what I'm saying is: the Resistance likely doesn't have a permanent base. They don't have the resources or enough safety to make their own. They squat in abandoned places and move constantly, because nowhere is safe, but they can't just waltz in public and declare where they are; they have to hide in plain sight while they bide their time. In the meantime, the places they use would have to be resourceful, or they're using what they have on their backs. The manga already shows them using a house and a hospital room.

#cuz im seeing people talk about how the Resistance definitely made big fortified bases above ground and underground #and had strongholds everywhere or in one place but #where do they get the budget and time to make them?#we clearly see them hunkering down in an abandoned hospital and yoichi in some guys house #when yoichi is talking about his brother and AFOs own memory plays at the same time so theyre side-by-side #yoichi looks like he got a bit of a trim methinks #anywhoo I think bruce has a medical education or something along those lines because he knows how to run a hospital computer #and blood tests enough to detect factors. thatd have to be something recently discovered or his own discovery #since abilities just started then #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #spoilers #bruce #kudo #yoichi shigaraki #the resistance #afo #ofa #all for one #one for all #one for all users #dude not to offend but bruce and kudo dont look older than 30. they look like theyre 27 at best #bruce looks older than kudo which is why my guess is 27 being the oldest but really #id put kudo at 24 at the oldest. they look young and wouldnt have the resources to make buildings #nevermind the education or money or anything #anyway thats just my age guess of them #i think theyre about - if not /the/ - the same age #people talking about their base makes me pause because i just think: what base?#edit: THE RESISTANCE IS NOT THEIR NAME. THEY HAVE NO NAME?

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irradiate-space · 1 year ago

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starship doesnt work. the $5 billion spent (not including $2 billion for launches) is not final. additionally $1 billion per launch (for a rocket that doesnt work) compared to $2 billion per launch isnt the difference between $1,000,000 and $100. compared to its competitors starship is not 10,000 times more cost effective it is at best twice as and currently not at all (since it does not work yet)

(this ask received on 2023-12-03)

Anon-kun, I seriously considered saving this ask until after the third Starship launch, currently scheduled for spring 2024. I wonder: did you say these same things about SpaceX's Falcon 9? Back before landing a spacecraft became a routine occurrence, there were many people who complained that SpaceX was wasting money and wasting fuel trying to build a reusable booster. I often wonder what those skeptics say now about the value of reusable rockets.

You say that the Starship does not "work" yet, but I tell you: the SLS does not work at all. The same metrics you use to say that Starship doesn't work apply equally to the SLS, and show that the SLS is financially infeasible.

The traditional space-industrial complex is having trouble building SLS rockets fast enough to meet the Artemis launch cadence: one launch each in 2024, 2025 2026, 2028, 2929. There are concerns that the SLS won't be ready in time to launch astronauts to the Moon, and this, mind you, is for a program which has been running since the 2000s. Artemis 4 has already been delayed to 2026 at the earliest because the required ground support equipment for the SLS Block 1B rocket won't be ready before November 2026.

The next Starship is expected to launch in 3-4 months. SpaceX expects to build an assembly line to build Starships at the rate of one Starship per week. SpaceX plans to sell these launches for $10 million per launch. Even if SpaceX sold launches on the fully-reusable Starship for the same price as the partially-reusable Falcon 9, at about $62 million per launch, that cost is still ... $62m/100t * 95t/$2b = 0.02 ... at Falcon 9 costs, the Starship launches mass to LEO at 2% of the cost of the SLS. The SLS will be priced out of the market, because not even Congress wants to pay $2 billion per launch when you can get the same capability for $62 million per launch. And SpaceX expects the cost to be lower than that.

Sure, there have been many explosions in SpaceX's program. That's because SpaceX is working on a different development model than the space-industrial complex. We saw that with the early Falcon 9 landings: the landing of the rocket was sugar on the cake; the real precious thing was the information received in the attempt, which enables faster iteration. Changing how SLS stages would cost billions of dollars and take 10 years of change orders. SpaceX iterated that in less than a year.

I predict that, by the end of 2024, SpaceX will have successfully orbited a Starship, and will be selling commercial launch slots.

See you next year, nony?

Yes, Musk is an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb. But as long as his ego doesn't cost SpaceX anything, SpaceX is on the path to be selling sub-$100m 100t payloads to Mars by 2030. Is it meet, think you, what we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?

#starship #spacex #anonymous #ask

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 4 months ago

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Story time:

There was a kid in my town who sold radios. Home stereos, portable boomboxes, car radios, it didn't matter. You wanted it, it played music, kid sold it.

This is not the part of the story where I sell you an honorable story about a kid earning for a family who can't keep up. Kid had a reasonably secure homelife, just liked having cash on hand for things they wanted. Everyone knew these were not exactly electronics with legitimate provenance, you feel me? But that didn't matter. Kid sold decent equipment at good prices, so if the kid said a case of cassette players fell off the back of a truck, then it fell off the back of a truck.

I get that some people have never lived in communities where the illegitimate market was a staple in community survival, but where I grew up "criminal" was a job title.

Story time:

My mom sold drugs for the cartels. She was a teenager alone in a city where she didn't know anyone, gay as a maypole, school drop out, couldn't hold down a job between the homophobia, the earthquakes, and the severe trauma. So she sold drugs for the local distributer because he didn't care who she fucked or when she needed a day off. Sometimes she spent her drug money on drugs of her own. Sometimes she spent it on expensive sex toys for her and her friends. Sometimes she spent it on food and rent. Sometimes she gave it away to the other queer kids.

The world is a complicated place, and people make complicated choices. Good and bad are rarely what we think they are. We can make that a problem for ourselves by fighting it, or we can accept it and play in the space.

My mom told me about her drug dealer days when she had a talk with me about recreational drug use as a kid. She told me that she tried cocaine once and liked it so much she knew she couldn't try it again. She told me to only ever smoke marijuana if I watched the buds ground up or ground them up myself. She told me not to get high or drunk with anyone unless I trusted them with my life. She told me that if I ever took something and it went wrong that I could call her. And she told me something that she ended up saying a lot: "the only absolute is that there are no absolutes"

Ironically, given my OCD, this was a really protective message. Her point was that doubt, uncertainty, change, difference, were inevitable, and would always take us by surprise until we learned how to internalize that truth. Better to build yourself a comfortable palace of self-reflection in that doubt and uncertainty, and allow the variability of life to be your anchor.

I've been supporting myself since I was a teenager, and maybe one day I'll find something as good as the sound of that giant ass boombox with the batteries the size of a hamster pumping out prince and tracy chapman and the indigo girls under the mulberry tree out front while the smell of my aunties and mom smoking up out back drifts off into the woods. Maybe I'll even find people who see the beauty and humanity in the mess the way I do.

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jamietheberry · 5 months ago

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Hero Names

I have opinions about Hero names for a lot of characters, so I threw together this, using my own OC Takemi. She's got a healing quirk and is the adopted granddaughter of Recovery Girl.

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Izuku blinked when Midnight-sensei and Takemi walked into the class room. “It’s hero name time and I’ve brought my little assistant to help you out.”

Takemi was wearing a pink romper that somewhat resemble scrubs and white tights with a red cross on the front, long brown boots, a black open shirk around her legs, gloves and a visor along with all sorts of medical equipment and a fanny pack at her waist and her lab coat over it. “Hello. I’m Takemi from Class 1-H, I’ll me helping Midnight-sensei and taking everything back to the Support Department.”

“Its time for hero names. Takemi-chan.” “Right, while I’m not an in the Hero Course or anything I do happen to have a Hero name, mostly in honor of my grandmother since I’ll eventually be taking over her legacy. So I’ve picked the name Nursemaid because when you all become hero’s I’ll be cleaning up after you.” Izuku looked up at Takemi for a while and eventually the girl came over, “Something the matter Midoriya-chan?” “Umm, I was thinking about what you said, before.” Izuku confessed. Takemi nodded, “Okay.” “Um… do you think you could tell me what you think of this?” Izuku showed her his board and then put it down not wanting anyone else to see.

Takemi smiled, “I think it’s cute! Something that really screams, everything’s okay!” Izuku blushed.

Takemi looked over at Todoroki and frowned, “Is that the name you’re going to pick?” “Yes.” Takemi frowned and then pouted, “But Todroki-san you have so many cool options for a Hero name! Like Freezerburn or Thermo or hell even Frostbite or something! You have such a pretty face too, market yourself better!”

————

“I like Alien Queen.” Takemi intrepid Midnight, “Let her keep the theme.”

Mina blinked at her, “You’ve been pretty cool so far, hit me with what you got. So since you want something alien and queenly how about Jovian, ya know like Jupiter or even Venutian, like Venus roman god of beauty? You could pull those off!”

————

Takemi looked at Aoyama and frowned, “that’s so long and while I respect the asstetic I think you need something shorter.” Aoyama hummed, “Then what do you suggest?”

“Something elegant and sparkly like Frizzante or it you’re going with a knight theme, then something simple like Lance.”

———-

Takemi frowned at Bakugo, “What a stupid name!” Bakugo whirled on her, “What’d you say!” “I said that’s a god awful stupid name. You also have so many options, Demolition, Demolition King since you’re still in that phase, Dynamite, Outburst, Ground Zero, Nitrate or something.”

——————

Izuku revealed his name, “The Out the box Hero: Jackrabbit.”

“So cute!”

————

Those have been running around in my head for a while. I know names are a hot topic and all and these are some of my ideas/suggestions. Mostly because I like them.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #MHA #BNHA #Fanfic #Hero Names #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #shouto todoroki #aoyama yuuga #mina ashido #OC

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blazehedgehog · 5 months ago

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Another Million Dollar Idea

So lately I've been doing lots of listed and unlisted streams from the Playstation 5. Mostly unlisted. Previously, when I wanted to stream something to my friends, I'd have to open the Elgato on my desktop and pipe that in through Discord, which works but isn't ideal.

For one, my PC is rapidly showing its age, so I have to dump the Elgato down to 720p30 because Discord chugs when capturing this window. Mostly it's good at auto-cropping to only the gameplay, but sometimes it gets confused and will capture the entire window, where you see the settings and buttons. So it kinda sucks.

The easier way to do that is to start up an unlisted YouTube live stream to my dump channel and link it to my friends on Discord. Whatever resolution I want, 60fps, no muss, no fuss. Quick and painless. Here's a stream from the other day where I showed a friend the new version of Asphalt 9 for PS5. It's just raw gameplay footage, no mic:

And, when I want to do a bigger stream, with all my alerts, pop-ups, sounds and rewards, I can always warm up OBS and stream to Twitch properly.

Recently, I house sat for a cousin for eight days. I treat this like a vacation. I can't really work on videos or games or podcasts very much, so I just kick back and chill out. And since these consoles can stream, I can do very long (like 6+ hour) streams easy-peasy.

But let's be real: streaming to Twitch through the PS5 (and the PS4) sucks. I'd have to go in and turn off all my alerts and buttons and overlays, because none of that works on the console stream. The whole thing feels extremely limited, and it's even worse on PS5, where it will automatically end your broadcast if you try to switch games.

But this time around I tried to get something going where I could still get all of my fancy notifications and graphics and still stream from the PS5. The hope was to use remote play on my laptop with the PS5 in the same room, but remote play is too thirsty on the bandwidth for that. Or my 13 year old laptop just can't hang running both OBS and Remote Play at the same time.

youtube

But it made me wonder: why should it have to be like this? Game consoles now are more like computers than ever before. There's nothing stopping these systems from supporting real streaming features, like overlays and pop-ups.

And it feels like a deeply untapped market, when you think about it. Imagine if, say, Microsoft came out swinging that the Xbox Series X was the one stop box for professional streamers. Full support for customizable Twitch alerts and overlays, a way to set up soundboards, browser sources, trigger ad breaks, run polls, etc. etc. etc.

Like, think about Elgato. Elgato sells streaming hardware for the PC. Capture cards, lights, cameras, shortcut decks, teleprompters, the works. Streaming and video production is a huge business for them.

If Microsoft or Sony cut in on that market a little bit and rebranded their console as The Only Streaming Hardware You'll Ever Need? Imagine branded streams and the loyalty that could generate.

And these systems have USB ports, obviously. They support common headset protocols through the headphone jack. You can plug professional equipment into them already. Why not have built-in hardware support for that?

The answer is that Microsoft and Sony probably only support Twitch begrudgingly, because some bean counter is annoyed they're "giving money away." After all, Microsoft owned and shut down Mixer. For a time they'd much rather you stay off of Twitch. When you see ads and buy subs they want some of that cut going their way, not to Amazon.

Which is ultimately very short sighted. Microsoft in particular has been rolling over and giving up a lot of ground the last three to five years. If they rebranded as the Xbox being the console for streamers to start and maintain a career over the long term, they could lock in a market that only exists on the PC right now.

If anyone at Microsoft or Playstation is reading this and uses this as inspiration I will take a one time payment of $250,000 for being the world's best ideas guy.

#streaming #twitch #xbox #microsoft #sony #playstation #youtube #Youtube

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amrutmnm · 4 days ago

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Canada Drives the Future of Ground Support Equipment with Advanced Technology and Green Initiatives.

Canada is one of the emerging leaders in the GSE market. Innovation and sustainability brought Canada into the limelight. Most major airports in Canada have begun implementing the latest GSE technologies to achieve greater operational efficiency and environmental conservation, including Toronto Pearson International and Vancouver International. Electric and hybrid GSE are prime examples of Canada's focus on greener aviation.

#Ground Support Equipment Market Canada

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warningsine · 4 months ago

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Elon Musk’s Starlink backtracks to comply with Brazil’s ban on X

After judge freezes assets of billionaire’s internet service provider, company flip-flops to block social media platform

Associated PressWed 4 Sep 2024 20.21 CESTShare

Elon Musk’s satellite-based internet service provider Starlink backtracked late on Tuesday and said it would accept and enforce a Brazilian supreme court justice’s order to block the billionaire’s social media platform, X, formerly Twitter.

Previously, Starlink informally told the telecommunications regulator Anatel that it would not comply until Justice Alexandre de Moraes reversed course. Now, Starlink has said in a statement posted on X that it will heed de Moraes’s order despite him having frozen the company’s assets.

“Regardless of the illegal treatment of Starlink in freezing our assets, we are complying with the order to block access to X in Brazil,” the company statement said. “We continue to pursue all legal avenues, as are others who agree that @alexandre’s recent order violate the Brazilian constitution.”

Musk has been relentlessly posting in recent days, lambasting de Moraes as a criminal.

“This evil tyrant is a disgrace to judges’ robes,” Musk wrote on X alongside a photo of de Moraes some 17 hours before Starlink announced its decision to comply with the order. He has not posted about the company’s operations in Brazil since its announcement.

De Moraes froze Starlink’s accounts last week as a means to compel it to cover X’s fines that already exceeded $3m, reasoning that the two companies are part of the same economic group. Starlink filed an appeal, its law firm Veirano told the Associated Press on 30 August, but has declined to comment further in the days since.

Days later, the justice ordered the suspension of X over the social media company’s refusal to name a local legal representative, as required in order to receive notifications of court decisions and swiftly take any requisite action – particularly, in X’s case, the takedown of accounts. A supreme court panel unanimously upheld the block on Monday, undermining efforts by Musk and his supporters to cast the justice as an authoritarian renegade intent on censoring political speech in Brazil.

Had Starlink continued to disobey de Moraes by providing access, Anatel could eventually have seized equipment from Starlink’s 23 ground stations that ensure the quality of its internet service, Artur Coimbra, an Anatel board member, said on a video call from his office in Brasília.

Already, some legal experts have questioned de Moraes’s basis for freezing Starlink’s accounts, given that its parent company, SpaceX, has no integration with X. Musk noted on X that the two companies have different shareholder structures.

X has clashed with de Moraes over its reluctance to block users – mostly far-right activists accused of undermining Brazilian democracy and allies of the former president Jair Bolsonaro – and has alleged that de Moraes wants an in-country legal representative so that Brazilian authorities can exert leverage over the company by having someone to arrest.

The reversal comes as a relief to those in Brazil who have come to depend on Starlink, though. The company has said it has more than 250,000 customers in the country, many of whom are in remote areas that would not have fast internet access otherwise.

Before Starlink, internet access in many of these areas came from slow, unstable fixed antennae. Its easy-to-install kits and high-quality connections have transformed communication in some communities, surpassing even major Amazonian cities in speed.

While Brazil’s massive territory with vast rural and forested areas makes it a key growth market for Starlink, its presence isn’t yet as large as Musk has led some to believe. Since January 2022, when Starlink began operations in Brazil, it has captured a 0.5% share of the internet market, trailing significantly behind leading providers, according to Anatel.

Although Starlink has retreated and says it will now block X, Musk’s bravado in recent days has boosted his hero status in the eyes of his fans, said Marietje Schaake, the international policy director at Stanford University’s Cyber Policy Center.

“The battle of the titans, between de Moraes and Musk, reminds us of how powerful, political and provocative tech leaders have become,” said Schaake. “Brazil won’t be that last country to seek accountability or to put up guardrails.”

#elon musk #brazil #x #news tag

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skill-guru · 5 months ago

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youtube

Transforming Lives: The Skill Guru Foundation Journey To Empower Youth

In a world where the divide between privilege and poverty continues to widen, the importance of education and skill development cannot be overstated. The Skill Guru Foundation stands at the forefront of this battle, bridging the gap between opportunity and underprivileged communities. With a heart full of compassion and a mission grounded in action, The Skill Guru Foundation is committed to transforming lives through education and skill development.

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The Skill Guru Foundation was born out of a deep-seated belief that every child, regardless of their socio-economic background, deserves the opportunity to learn, grow, and succeed. Our journey began with a simple yet powerful vision: to create an online platform where corporate employees, retired individuals, and skilled volunteers could connect with underprivileged children and provide them with the guidance and mentorship they need to thrive.

This vision has grown into a thriving community of mentors and students, each committed to the shared goal of education for all. Through our programs, we have seen firsthand the transformative power of knowledge and skills in breaking the cycle of poverty.

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At the heart of our mission is the belief that education is the most powerful tool for empowerment. The Skill Guru Foundation provides a unique platform where skilled professionals can share their knowledge with those who need it most. Whether it’s through one-on-one calls, messaging, or virtual classrooms, our volunteers are making a real difference in the lives of the children they mentor.

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We understand that every child is unique, and so are their needs. That’s why our mentoring approach is tailored to each student, ensuring that they receive the support they need to overcome their individual challenges. Whether it’s helping a child develop a passion for learning or providing them with the skills to secure a better future, our mentors are dedicated to making a lasting impact.

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One of our most heartwarming success stories is that of a young boy named Ravi. Ravi came from a family where education was not a priority, and he struggled to keep up in school. Through our program, Ravi was paired with a mentor who recognized his potential and provided him with the support he needed. Today, Ravi is excelling in his studies and dreams of becoming a software engineer. His story is a testament to the power of mentorship and the difference that one person can make in a child’s life.

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As we look to the future, The Skill Guru Foundation remains committed to our mission of empowering underprivileged children through education and skill development. We are continually expanding our programs, reaching more children and offering new opportunities for growth and learning.

Our vision for the future is a world where every child has the chance to succeed, regardless of their background. We believe that through education and mentorship, we can make this vision a reality. But we cannot do it alone. We need the continued support of our volunteers, corporate partners, and donors to help us reach our goals.

How You Can Get Involved

There are many ways to get involved with The Skill Guru Foundation. Whether you’re a skilled professional looking to give back, a company interested in partnering with us, or someone who simply wants to make a difference, there is a place for you in our community.

Volunteering your time, donating funds, or spreading the word about our work are all powerful ways to contribute to our mission. By getting involved, you are helping to create a brighter future for children who need it most.

Conclusion: A Call to Action

The work of The Skill Guru Foundation is not just about education; it’s about transformation. We are changing lives, one child at a time, by providing the tools and support they need to build a better future. But we cannot do it alone. We need your help to continue our mission and expand our reach.

Join us in our journey to empower the next generation. Together, we can make a lasting impact and create a world where every child has the opportunity to succeed.

#SkillDevelopment #EducationForAll #EmpowerChildren #TheSkillGuruFoundation #VolunteerMentoring #SocialImpact #CorporatePartnerships #TransformingLives #UnderprivilegedChildren #Empowerment #FutureLeaders #BreakTheCycle #MentorshipMatters #ChangingLives #EducationMatters #Youtube

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