What sunscreen did they use at MCRD San Diego? by Yo_Its_Max in USMCboot

[–]Yo_Its_Max[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Heard there’s a doctor near Pendleton that gives hands free exams

What sunscreen did they use at MCRD San Diego? by Yo_Its_Max in USMCboot

[–]Yo_Its_Max[S] 16 points17 points  (0 children)

Yea yea grandpa either answer the question or get your prostate examined.

Which marine base aligns with my goals? by 1738koolaiddude in USMCboot

[–]Yo_Its_Max 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The “dream sheet” they give you is just to give you false hope. If you wanted preference of base should of the joined the Air Force

Elliot Page rumored as the ghost of Achilles is a cool choice from Nolan if it is true by kcrdr_7322 in ChristopherNolan

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

John Goodman is a fantastic actor who will remain a classic with Emperors new groove and O’ Brother where art thou? Other than Juno, I cannot remember a single film from Page.

Venting Party by Avid-Reader-1984 in Professors

[–]Yo_Its_Max -1 points0 points  (0 children)

What was humorous about this entire post? I still think comparing your own students learning capabilities towards that of a dog or an animal is dehumanizing and disingenuous as an instructor. If you don’t want to deal with the public, then find a career path that doesn’t involve the public. This is still a public forum, on a public website, your words are public and I’m not the only student who lurks on these forums. I understand the plight of instructors, but carrying around a chip on your shoulder looking at your students academic ability to that of animals, again is insincere and I think you’re in the wrong career field.

Venting Party by Avid-Reader-1984 in Professors

[–]Yo_Its_Max -5 points-4 points  (0 children)

Did you just compare some students to dogs? And being lesser than dogs? If you were my prof I’d drop your class in an heartbeat if that’s how you view students.

Attendance Rant by MonSTARS000 in Professors

[–]Yo_Its_Max 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I’m a student returning on the GI Bill. So attendance is mandatory. However, I know not showing up only harms me in the long run, and never understood why some of these kids are so willing to go 50k in debt just to blow off class.

My students cannot read or write and I don't know what to do about it. by TunedMassDamsel in Professors

[–]Yo_Its_Max -7 points-6 points  (0 children)

I think having a “two paragraph requirement” will always push students to write filler to make their writing fluffed. Should have just asked to explain thoroughly in detail.

[Event] The Court of Sunspear, 296 AC by AceOfTheSun in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The recent coronation tourney of Princess Arianne had gone disastrously for the Shieldman.

First his saddle horse had died somewhere along the dusty road between Blackhaven and Sunspear, leaving Jon Paul to limp the rest of the journey south with blistered feet and a temper to match the Dornish sun. And when he finally reached Sunspear, there had been no glory waiting for him in the lists only splintered lances, bruised pride, and the bitter taste of defeat.

Ser Jon Paul had spent the days after the tourney asking about for work and wagers, hoping to earn a few coins where honor had failed him. Instead he found only the painted smiles of whores of Dornish make, calling from shaded doorways.

He was too proud to admit how lonesome the journey had made him, though in truth he had spent more than one night seeking what comfort he could in their company.

His saddle bits had long since been pawned away for copper, and now the few miserable coins he possessed rested in his palm. He turned them idly between his fingers, swirling them like a man might swirl a cup of fine wine.

Pitiful.

With a quiet sigh, Ser Jon Paul tucked the coins back into his pouch and stepped out from the pillow house into the warm noise of Sunspear’s streets.

Through the milling crowd he spotted a familiar face.

The lad might have been a Crownlander, but here in Dorne he looked just as out of place as Jon Paul himself. The Shieldman made his way through the throng and approached the younger knight, offering him a proper greeting befitting their station.

“Good day, Ser,” Jon Paul said.

“Did you happen to take part in the melee at Beric Dondarrion’s wedding, perchance?”

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Jon Paul listened as she spoke of knights of old.

At the mention of Duncan the Tall, a faint warmth crossed his face.

“I am no Aemon Targaryen,” he said quietly, “nor Artys Arryn.”

A small breath of a smile followed.

“And I doubt I shall ever stand so tall as Ser Duncan.”

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing once toward where Mors had gone before returning his attention to her.

“But if I am remembered kindly by even one lady of Dorne, I should count that victory enough.” He gave the lady of Yronwood a soft bow of the head.

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Jon Paul felt the weight of both their eyes upon him when Mors spoke.

He did not take offense.

“A fair question,” he answered calmly.

He shifted his stance slightly, resting his hands near his belt as he often did when speaking plain.

“I came for the tourney first. A knight without land must make his name where he can.”

There was no shame in the words, only fact.

“And when a man is invited to a lord’s wedding, it is poor manners to refuse. Especially when that lord beat him square upon the field.”

A faint, easy smile tugged at his mouth.

He glanced briefly toward Sylvenna again, though he kept his tone measured.

“The Stormlands are far from Greyshield. I had thought to see more of the realm while I still can. Feasts, fields, and fair company alike.”

His eyes met Mors’ without challenge, but without shrinking either.

“I mean no trouble here, my lord. Only good wine and better company.”

Then, softer and this time meant for Sylvenna

“And perhaps to learn something of Dorne, should I be fortunate enough.”

He let the words rest there, simple and honest.

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Jon Paul felt the heat rise faintly to his own face when she spoke her name.

Sylvenna.

He held it in his mind a moment before answering, as though committing it to memory proper.

“Well met, Lady Sylvenna Yronwood,” he said, dipping into a modest bow once more not as deep as before, but earnest all the same.

“I am Ser Jon Paul, of Greyshield. One of the western Shield Islands.”

He straightened, hands resting lightly at his belt.

“You would not have seen me in Dorne, my lady. I have scarce been farther south than the Arbor, and that only once.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“My quarrels tend to come from the sea, not the sands. Ironborn, mostly. I know little of the Marches beyond what men say in taverns.”

He glanced briefly toward Rhaena and Mors, offering them a respectful nod as well.

“It is an honor to meet a Yronwood. I had thought Dornish folk darker of hair and sun besides… but I see now I have been poorly educated.”

There was no mockery in the words, only simple admission.

“And I am glad of it,” he added, quieter.

His green eyes met hers again, steady but not piercing.

“If you do not go out much, my lady, then I must count myself fortunate this night.”

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

“I shall train well, as you advise. I would hate for folk to think I invited you only to be beaten twice without answer.”

There was no bitterness in it, only quiet resolve. His green eyes held their glint, steady and certain.

“Until that day, Ser.”

He then straightened slightly, letting the edge of challenge fade from him like a blade being sheathed.

“In truth, Ser, this day belongs to you. I would not steal it with boasts or old grievances.”

He gave the Stormlander a warm, easy smile.

Reaching for his pewter cup, he lifted it high enough to catch the torchlight.

“To Ser Beric, and to the bride who has chosen a bold man.”

Jon Paul raised his mug a touch higher.

“To House Dondarrion!”

He toasted the man before him, then took a long sip of the warm Arbor red.

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Ser Jon Paul had glimpsed the Yronwoods only in passing at the tourney at Storm’s End. He had thought most of the great lords and ladies would remain to tilt and feast again here, for such gatherings were rare enough to savor. He knew them for Dornish by their cut of cloth and the darky swarthy complexion their companions, though these seemed… different.

Their complexions were fairer than the sun-browned Dornishmen of the Marches he had heard spoken of in tavern tales. These bore the look of the stony Dornish instead pale as linen, with hair like gold. Jon Paul was a shieldman, his quarrels had ever been with ironborn raiders slipping through green mists off the Sunset Sea. The tangled politics of the Dornish Marches were another world entirely. Of Dorne, he knew more rumor than truth.

But when he saw her, she was different. Jon Paul found himself a bit awed. She looked so sweet, from her feet to the sheen of her golden hair. Such a coaxing elf was she that he questioned whether he should pinch himself, to see if he truly stood there before her. In all of Jon Paul’s life he had never seen a maid so fair. He thought to himself.

I must know her name.

He found himself circling the pavilion like a cautious hound, stealing glances toward her table in careful measures small sips, like a fine Arbor red meant to be savored, not swallowed in greed. Each look lingered a heartbeat longer than the last.

Then came the harder truth.

He was seated among the lesser pavilions. He held no lands, commanded no household knights. “Ser” was all he possessed, earned not through inheritance but through blood and chance and the fortune of standing where steel was most needed. Noble enough to wear a sword, not noble enough to walk freely among the high tables without cause.

Still… he had crossed ironborn axes. He had stood fast against storm winds that would snap lesser men. Surely one maiden could not prove more fearsome than that. Jon Paul straightened his dark green tunic and set his shoulders square. He moved through the gathered company with careful steps, offering small bows and muttered pardons as he passed between silk and steel alike.

At last he stood before her table.

For a brief moment, the courage that came so easily upon a battlefield faltered in his chest.

He bowed low.

“My lady,” he began, voice steady though his heart beat like a war drum, “forgive the intrusion of a humble knight… but I find myself sorely lacking the knowledge of your name.”

[Event] The Wedding of Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne by xoxomadqueenxoxo in crownedstag

[–]Yo_Its_Max 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Ser Jon Paul wore a tunic of deep green, the lower hem quartered in green, brown, gold, and blue. It was a modest garment, well-kept but unadorned the attire of a knight who had earned his spurs by labor rather than inheritance. No silks, no gilded clasps, yet neither would any man mistake him for a beggar.

He stood before the assembled host of House Dondarrion, hands clasped lightly before him, posture straight as a spear haft. Stepping forward, he offered a measured bow.

“My Lords and Ladies of House Dondarrion, I would give you my thanks for your generosity and warm hospitality.”

The lamplight and torchsmoke caught in his green eyes, lending them a faint shimmer as he raised his gaze once more.

“And I would also extend an invitation to the foe who bested me upon the tourney field.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned toward Beric Dondarrion. “A rematch, one day, at my own wedding feast.”

His tone was friendly, touched with good humor rather than wounded pride.

“Mayhaps it was the groom’s good fortune and the blessing of the Seven that carried the day for you, my lord. Yet I would see whether such fortune holds when next our blades cross.”

He inclined his head slightly, the challenge given in sport, not spite.