#Forest Officer

[rightnewshindi]

वन दरोगा ने नदी में शराब पीने से रोका, युवकों ने लात घूंसों से कर डाली पिटाई; सोशल मीडिया पर वायरल हुआ वीडियो

Uttarakhand News: उत्तराखंड के रामनगर में वन दारोगा की पिटाई का मामला सामने आया है. वायरल वीडियो में पांच-छह युवक वन दारोगा को बेरहमी से पीटते हुए दिख रहे हैं. इतना ही नहीं, दबंग वन दारोगो को गालियां भी दे रहे हैं और उसपर लात-घूंसे बरसा रहे हैं. पुलिस अब इस मामले की जांच कर रही है. वन दारोगा की पिटाई पर सोशल मीडिया में रोष है और यू��र्स आरोपियों को कड़ी सजा देने की बात कह रहे हैं. ��्या है पूरा…

[jobsnotices]

PACE Nepal Vacancy 2081 for Various Posts in Karnali Pradesh

PACE Nepal Vacancy 2081 for Various Posts in Karnali Pradesh: Project Coordinator, Construction Supervisor, Finance Officer, Civil Engineer, Forest Officer, Agriculture Officer, Enterprise Development Officer, Monitoring, Evaluation and Documentation Officer. Interested and eligible candidates can apply till 15th August 2024.  CAREER OPPORTUNITIES  PACE Nepal Vacancy 2081 for Various Posts in…

[walkknown]

Here is brief explanation regarding maximum posts of government of government, like a all officers posts.

Those are preparing for government job must read this article.

#government jobs #ssc_cgl #ssc_chsl #bank_po #income_tax_officer #walkknown

[obsessedbyneon]

The interior landscape of the Brown Forman Forester Center, in Louisville, Kentucky.

Scan

[lennardd]

it's always good to ask your co-workers for feedback

[ohnoitsz1m]

Uhh post canon Barney

Man who has not had a break since the rescas and refuses to start now. Alyx and Gordon are hiding his gear as we speak while Kleiner distracts him.

I was sposed to do Alyx too but I blinked and it was 3 am so. Next time

Oh also I forgot to make a note but he does carry a sidearm

[zegalba]

Makoto Yamaguchi: Office in Karuizawa (2003)

[liminally-spaced]

[moongothic]

Y'know Crocodile's Mushroom Lore kinda makes sense though, like he seems like the kind of person who does appreciate some peace and quiet, having time to himself to relax and enjoy some fresh air (something that would be easy to achieve by just going on a walk in a forest), but also, what is mushroom foraging if not a low-level type of treasure hunting (the "treasure" isn't particularly valuable, but it's edible so it's rewarding in its own right); an oddly fitting hobby for a pirate

[chimerathekid]

"Aren't you a little young to be a detective?" I still like making fake screenshots and crossover pictures

Crow Country is fun and since I did some crossover art with the Detective Grimoire guys a while back, I figured I'd do a piece for this series too. Theyre both fun and I like detectives

[kevkebus-subh]

[fallstaticexit]

Previously on COTF Chapter Four Edin - Previous // Next // Beginning

Leaving this here

[compacflt]

Rumors from Pearl Harbor.

When Admiral Kazansky first comes to Pearl, he brings with him about half of his previous staff, all exceptionally-hardworking people hand-picked over years—advisors, flag aides, secretaries, ranks all over the board. But his new hires, upon getting acquainted with the old guard, are shocked to discover that his previous staff still hardly knows him at all.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Lieutenant Commander Hartford explains over a pint. “I made the mistake of asking him once what he did for fun. You know, like, hobbies and stuff. He blinked at me for a second, and then said, ‘I read.’ That’s it! I read! My advice to you newcomers would be, don’t ask him questions about his personal life, because it tends to be pretty boring.”

“It sounds to me like he’s a walking, talking Wikipedia page,” says Captain Calvert, who worked for the previous two Pacific Fleet Commanders and thinks she knows how to deal with them by now. “We owe it to ourselves to figure him out. It’ll make our lives easier, anyway. So, let’s put our heads together: what do we know about him?”

What they know are his habits, which they’ll come to learn intimately over the next few years, and which are admittedly pretty boring. Admiral Kazansky is one of the first to show up to work in the morning and one of the last to leave in the evening. He often answers e-mails past 2300 hours, but never later than midnight. Jokes never catch him off-guard; he rarely smiles, and when he does, it has an ulterior motive. When he’s not working, he’s scheming and making plans to go back home to San Diego, and his requests for leave are always granted, because he works like a pack mule from home anyway. He signs off every e-mail with “Sincerely,”…

“Is he sincere, though?” asks Chief Warrant Officer Kent halfway through Admiral Kazansky’s first year. (Admiral Kazansky is surely unaware that his staff now spends the second Friday of every month chit-chatting about him over drinks in downtown Honolulu.) “I can’t ever tell. And he lives in Hawaii. San Diego’s nice, I know, but what’s so different about the beaches there that he can’t get here?”

“I genuinely don’t think he’s human,” confesses Commander Stoddard. “People warned me about that when I came here, and I laughed it off, but… he keeps his desk biologically sterile. Not one fingerprint, but I’ve never seen anyone wipe it down. I’ve looked through his drawers. Don’t judge me, I got curious. Everything squared away, like he’s goddamn Einstein or something. Have any of you ever seen him in his civvies?” No one has. “God damn it, where does he shop for groceries? No one’s seen him at a grocery store? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Does he wear his uniform to bed, too?”

“He probably goes grocery shopping on the whole other side of the island to avoid all the enlisted kids,” laughs Captain Calvert. “Come to think of it…you know how he always eats lunch in the office? It’s always a salad. And always the same kind of salad. This guy survives on one cup of coffee and one spinach salad a day. Maybe he really isn’t human.”

They build out their wealth of knowledge and come to learn that Admiral Kazansky is defined by his extremes, by what he always does and what he never does. Admiral Kazansky gets his uniforms dry-cleaned every week, though he never spills anything on them. No one has ever seen Admiral Kazansky stumble over his words while giving a speech, or trip over a sidewalk curb, or push a “pull” door. He is always polite and never friendly. Sometimes he is cold, and sometimes he is cruel in his patience with you when you’ve fucked up, like a cat toying with a hemorrhaging mouse. But he never raises his voice. He is always immaculately put-together, well-groomed, constructed every day like a product on an assembly line. Nothing is ever out of place. Allegedly his umbrella once turned inside-out during a rainstorm; he disdainfully shook it once, as a hunter might pump a loaded shotgun, and it flipped itself right-side-in again. The laws of physics do not seem to apply to him. Nor do the natural embarrassments that come with being human. Admiral Kazansky is never flustered, never harried, and never falls apart.

“I found this old picture of him shaking hands with another pilot on the Internet,” says Chief Warrant Officer Kent in Admiral Kazansky’s second year. “Smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Never seen him smile like that in all my years working with him. And he had frosted tips, too. Like Guy Fieri on a diet and steroids. It was the eighties, sure, but it’s like he knew how to have fun, once upon a time. Wonder what happened to him.”

“I feel lonely for him sometimes,” says Commander Stoddard. “Strict guy like that, no family, no friends, no wife, nothing to live for but the Navy? He’s like a workhorse with blinders on. Nowhere to go but forward. That’s a lonely existence.”

“Not if you’re a robot,” says Lieutenant Commander Hartford. “I swear, sometimes he breathes and it makes me jump, ‘cause I forgot he was alive!” —What else doesn’t Admiral Kazansky do?

That’s when they realize that none of them, not the old guard nor the new, has ever, not once, ever seen or heard Admiral Kazansky sneeze.

And they all finally give up the game and quit arguing and agree that, no, he really isn’t human after all. He must be some cyborg from the future sent to whip the Pacific Fleet into shape, and you can’t ask for too much humanity from someone who’s doing a pretty damn good job of it.

The rumors start soon after that. Jokes that could get them all tossed out of the Navy, but probably won’t. Jokes that accidentally spread like wildfire.

Yes, Admiral Kazansky could be a cyborg, but he also could be a Mormon fundamentalist, or a Scientologist, or a really weird Catholic. Maybe he goes home to San Diego so often because in his spare time he’s really a mule ferrying cocaine across the Mexi-Cali border. That’s what he does for fun. He eats spinach salads because he’s a reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man, and he needs all the super-strength he can get to deal with the Navy’s modern-day bullshit.

“I don’t know if that story makes sense,” laughs Captain Calvert on the phone with her husband in Washington, “but it makes more sense than the real Admiral Kazansky does!”

So the rumors get spread around.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Maverick comments, watching Ice make their bed from the relative comfort of the bedroom doorway, “or if I should tell you this, because you might crack down on it, which would be a shame, ‘cause it’s funny. But every time you send a mass e-mail to the Pacific Fleet commissioned officer corps, you become the main topic of conversation between all of us officers for a solid day and a half.”

“Oh?” says Ice with a smile, struggling to fit the last corner of the fitted sheet to the mattress. He sighs, tugs on the strings of his old ratty-ass hooded sweatshirt, and looks at Maverick balefully through his glasses. “Help me out over here, would you? —What are people saying? All good things, I hope.”

“Not really,” Maverick says, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase as he stares out the window into the San Diego sunshine. “Some pretty crazy shit, actually. Hard as hell for me to keep a straight face. I heard this one—you know, people are saying you eat nothing but salads?”

“Oh,” laughs Ice, hospital-cornering the free sheet. “Yeah, that one’s kind of true. I bring salads in to the office sometimes.”

“You hate salads.”

“I know, it’s torture! Move over.” He bumps Maverick out of the way to tuck in the last corner. “But, I figure, if a man torments himself with spinach-and-arugula salads three times a week, you ought to respect his commitment. It’s all an act. You get to a certain Defense Department paygrade, it all starts being storytelling and stagecraft.”

“Or trickery and deception, depending on how you look at it.”

“Sure. But you could say that about everything. —Besides, I’d rather the Navy discuss my salads than discuss… well, this.” He gestures to Maverick, then down to the bed. They start tugging the comforter over it together. “How much slack you got over there?”

“‘Bout a foot.”

Ice pulls his side down a couple more inches to match, then flips the top up. “Is that it? That’s all people are saying about me?”

Maverick grins and bends down to pick up a pillow. “They’re also saying that you’re the reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man. I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam, and all that. Think fast.”

Ice doesn’t think fast, and the pillow hits him square in the face, and he laughs again as he catches it in his arms. “Shit, that’s good,” he says; “I was just about to call Slider, think I’ll tell him that one. That’ll make him laugh. Popeye Iceman.” He tosses the pillow onto the made-up bed and pulls out his cell phone, but—then he frowns, grimaces, mutters “Ah, no,” and turns away to sneeze.

[kissorkill16]

We Can Use Her: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: A forest protector meeting.

P.S., before you guys get all up in my business, I'm convinced these guys are forest protectors.

"She's onto us!", screamed Valeria.

There was a meeting going on in the Raven Brooks woods. Valeria Abanate, Gerda, Mayor Tavish, Officer Leslie, and Mr. Murtaugh were there.

While this may seem like a normal meeting to anyone, they were really a cult who were in the middle of a genius plan...that's currently getting foiled by a little girl named Trinity Bales.

"Valeria, calm down, would you?", said Leslie, seeming bored.

"No, Leslie, I will not calm down. Our plans are getting foiled by a little girl who doesn't even know what she's doing! And what's worse is that she's dragging along her little friends too.", she rambled.

"I'm with Valeria on this.", said Gerda. "If word gets out about anything, we'll all be ruined. You heard what happened to Theodore. If a bunch of kids could put that psycho in jail, then who knows what'll happen to us if she finds out about us!"

Mayor Tavish pressed his temple like it hurt. "You're not wrong. She may be smart for her age, but she's still a dumb little child. All of them are."

"Oh yeah? Could dumb little children survive a bear trap?!", Mr. Murtaugh asked rhetorically.

They all busted out into an argument, talking over each other. Everyone's breaths stilled when they heard a whoosh sound coming from the distance, and then they saw the crow man.

"Now now, let's stop this childish argument, please? We're adults, so let's act like it.", said the crow man.

Everyone stopped talking and looked down at their feet.

"Good. Good."

Leslie spoke up, "Listen, Crowface. You know what she did. She is onto us. That girl went through all of that bullshit to save her boyfriend, and now she's onto us. Most specifically, you."

Crowface walked slowly behind everyone, "Yes, I'm very aware. But I let her know that if she loses that special little coin, she's done for. You remember the real estate lady, and the hardware store employee? Yes, they were warned, but they didn't listen.", he said. "My point is that while we're aware she knows our secrets, she doesn't know who we are behind these masks."

"And she never will.", said Gerda. "Let's just kill her."

Crowface put his hand up, silencing the baker. "No.", he said, slowly putting his hand down. "We can use her instead."

Everyone was confused.

"What do you mean?", asked Mayor Tavish.

"If Theodore was able to break Roth's mind, then we should be able to break hers. We'll make that little girl go insane, and in the blink of an eye, she'll betray all of her little friends and they'll all turn up dead."

Everyone followed along, nodding at each other, agreeing with the crow man.

"But what about the boy?", asked Leslie.

Crowface let out a deep, small, rumbly laugh. "Oh don't you worry.", he said. "I'll make sure the boy doesn't say a word."

(Inspired by this.)

(MaskedKid on YouTube)

[tspstuff]

ART REF FOR STANLEY

Before he seemingly escaped the parable he used to sleep near the skip button on some put together bed of plants. However as days turned into weeks he couldn't bear being near one of the narrator's creations anymore as it constantly reminded him of his lost companion.

So yeah! this is one of two Stanleys from my tsp au!

Why two you might ask? This Stanley and Nge aren't from the same parable therefore two Stanleys and two narrators

(Idk this is like my first time in years I posted something regarding lore in any way so I'm not really sure what to add.. )

[mtblackwood]

Every single choice will affect your fate, and the fate of those around you.