* tiny tank.

the first of her kind, the last of her line .

[tinytanks]

TINYTANKS. edwina 'eddie' simpson, known to most as eddie hart, the tiny tank. daughter of vadm beaumont simpson, first female navy seal and all round muscle mama.

[tartt9]

Be a good boy and play along. Jamie's hand instinctively goes to the beer at that before he realises what just happened. His nose crinkles up and his hand drops from the drink, shooting her a glare. How the fuck did she know that that would work on him? Is he that fucking obvious? "It's not the hangover," he snaps, trying to recover, despite the fact that he feels like he's already lost. "It's the fact that I know my schedule, and I've got drills to run in the morning, and I've been in this work too fucking long to be sick on the tarmac 'cause I listened to people who told me to drink more the night before. Got it?" Jamie feels like he's made his point very clearly. He won't have more to drink. He's 25, not 18 - he knows his limits, and he won't push them just because a pretty girl bought him a drink and called him good boy. Or told him to be a good boy. Whatever.

The barn is a gym? Why don't they just call it a gym, then? This place is fucking hell. He misses home. He misses good tea. And he misses things with normal fucking names. She's got a good smile, he'll give her that. Was that her implying that she wanted to fuck him, too? His brow furrows - he's typically much better with women than he is right now. He feels like some teenager trying to flirt for the first time, being thoroughly outflirted by fucking Cyclone's fucking daughter. "No, take me to this barn place." He can handle another workout. He won't have another beer. And, fucking hopefully wherever the fuck this barn place was, there wouldn't be the pressure to take a fucking shot or drink a fucking beer while he was curling 40 kilos. He pushes himself to his feet, leaving the beer untouched. "After you, then."

[tinytanks]

cool as a fucking cucumber, that was her problem according to some little rat seal she'd been on deployment with the year before. everything rolls off of your back, tank, that's an issue you fucking have! she didn't see it as a weakness -- after all, here she was, this englishman's attitude not phasing her one bit.

he takes the beer, which makes her stifle a smirk. should she push her luck? call him a good boy? no, that can wait, she'll add it to her bag of tricks for now. " darlin', who do you think is gonna be runnin' those drills? " it hangs in the air a moment, her smile not flinching save for the way it turns perhaps a little smug, a little flirtatious.. oh there's a bite.

eddie swigs his beer and hops down from her stool, " follow me, then, doll.. " she beckons, walking past the bar and dropping a few notes on there with a polite wave to penny, " and keep your eyes up. i know it's tempting, but you gotta let me see you topless before i let you look at my ass. " it's a snicker, throwing out her hair as they go -- the barn was hardly a ten minute walk from the hard deck and she wasn't even feeling a buzz at having knocked back two beers. just as well, given the stacks of weights awaiting them.

" don't worry, by the way -- you get too hot an' sweaty, i'll show you where the showers are. and we can save some water together.. "

[tartt9]

He shifts his jaw, staring down at the beer, then looking up at her when she speaks. "Where I'm from, we take care of our bodies so that we ain't sick on the tarmac when we're running drills." He nudges the beer back towards her. "One were enough for me, ain't my fault you didn't ask if I wanted a second before buyin' it." The way she'd told him to drink it was almost enough to get Jamie to change his mind - almost. But she won't get that satisfaction from him. He chokes on a laugh when she suggests a place called the barn. "Fucking America..." he mutters under his breath again. "You go to a barn for fun?" Maybe he's just too much of a city boy for that to sound anything but boring to him. "Look, I'll go wherever y'take me, but if you're gonna get all pissy that I ain't drinkin' any more than that one beer, then maybe bars and nightlife and whatever ain't the best idea. 'Cause I know your sort, you'd just feed me drink after drink, make sure I get back to my bunk safe and allat, and then laugh when I'm sick in the mornin' during drills. I don't play that game." He keeps his tone more serious than he usually does, looking at her, his leg bouncing under the table - an old habit that should've been broken out of him, but just hasn't been.

[tinytanks]

her brows rise and fall against his sharp tone before sighing deeply, moving the beer again in front of him, “ darlin’, just be a good boy an’ play along. drink y’damn drink with the promise that ain’t nobody gonna laugh at you if you get all hungover in the mornin’.. what the fuck’re they playin’ at in england? they do that? “ it was only a little surprising to her. the only other pilots she’d met from across the pond were nasty pieces of work, she could imagine them laughing at a fellow teammate instead of scooping them up and trying to cover it up lest the training intensified.

despite his laugh, eddie flashes him that simpson smile, sipping her drink, “ the barn is a big ole weights room, jamie baby. don’t laugh til you try it. many a man has come crawlin’ outta there. “ her smile lingers, being her charming self despite his resistance — pity, someone so easy on the eyes insisted on keeping their face so solemn. finishing off her beer, ed shrugs one shoulder, leaning forward again once again.

“ if you really knew my sort, you’d know that i’m not the type to get you drunk and leave you in your bunk like that. i’m the type to help you to bed, sure — but you wouldn’t be drunk an’ i wouldn’t hasten to leave you alone. “ it’s her turn to laugh, shaking her head a little, “ fine though. you wanna sit here all night? i can sit here all night. “

[ltkarma]

AVI DOESN'T NEED TO BE ASKED TWICE ; reaching across her desk quickly for a small pot of white tiger balm and offering it over with a sympathetic smile. it's the heavily scented sort - the type she keeps close for occasions just like this. on deployment she'd rub it around her nostrils in the hope it would stop some of the smells that would drift over from the latrine and neighbouring tents bothering her . it had worked - well , it worked most of the time. enough that she kept it close out of habit for moments just like this one.

seals and pilots to some degree , could be truly fucking grim.

❛    feel free to use the whole jar if you need to. you look like you could use it.  ❜ her brows lift, one arching a little as she glances from the grey tshirt to eddie and back again with a knowing look. ❛    you should probably burn that thing by the way , 'cos if you throw it in the trash it might grow legs and find its way back to base.  ❜

[tinytanks]

eddie supposes it's a fair assumption, that the smell might be doing her in, but in truth -- her sense of smell had become ignorant of gross smells long ago, the second she'd started training with the seals, being the only woman around, she'd become accustomed to all fucking sorts. no, the shirt did not smell, no, she was not using it to block out the smell.

it's lowered, revealing a bloody mess -- only superficial, a marine's elbow to the face would do that to you. she turns the jaw of tigerbalm over in her hand with a small smile; that was clever, she'd seen folk use all sorts, but tiger balm was a new one on her. she was stealing the idea, "i meant tissues, should've been more specific." nose wrinkles experimentally, sore.

[tinytanks]

highway to the starter zone!

[dngerclose]

brow raises as a smile falls on the young marine's features , the hornet pilot staring at the dartboard with curiosity bright in his eyes. arms cross , as if accepting the challenge. darts was never really aaron's game , but the stakes weren't too high and he'd love to see if she could actually do it. though , he knows better than to take too much pleasure drinking with sailors. the navy for all it's talk of weakness and lower standards ( with a few , notable , exceptions ) could still drink almost every branch of the military under the water. the marines of course however were a department of said navy --- and could keep up quite well , all to day... this was going to be an expensive night. a small nod finishes the acceptance. « alright , let's see how you do. » the smile never leaves his face as he waves her forward. « i'll take it. »

[tinytanks]

her dark eyes light up at the prospect, grin dimpling her cheeks as she drums her palms on the table in her excitement, " that's what i'm talkin'bout. " simpson wiggles her eyebrows as she swipes some darts up into her hand, only needing to shoot a look at the lieutenants gathered around the dartboard for them to scuttle away. her right hand covers her eyes. eddie takes a deep breath and raises a dart, exhaling slowly before thump... thump... thump... she knows before she opens her eyes that she was successful, because those same khaki-clad guys burst into shocked whoops and cheers and she fixes her drinking partner with that signature simpson smile, " well then, darlin', looks like you owe me several drinks, huh? "

[soulrph]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

you long-suffering, endlessly patient angels get two memes today bc i deleted everything in my inbox on my rp blog and i made these memes to top off a solidly productive day! also, if you ever feel guilty about “not being productive” or having to delete drafts and memes in your tumblr life, DON’T! you’re wonderful and valid and your personal comfort and peace of mind is far more important than an overwhelming inbox or draft count! anyway, these are also self-serving, but also i feel no shame bc there’s an extreme lack of this very good vibe in my line of work, so here u go besties. DO NOT ADD ANYTHING TO THIS LIST!!

DATE UPDATED: 19/10/22

[ PIN ]:     sender pins the receiver to the ground and straddles them while training together.

[ SWORD ]:    sender invites the receiver to engage in sword fighting practice with them.

[ AIM ]:    sender and receiver go to target practice together (using any weapon of choice).

[ GUIDE ]:    sender readjusts the receiver’s stance and posture with their hands while training together.

[ STRIKE ]:    sender aims a blow (via either their fists or their weapon) at the receiver.

[ BLOCK ]:    sender blocks an on-coming attack from the receiver.

[ ARMOR ]:     sender helps to show the receiver how to wear and take care of their armor.

[ PREPARE ]:     sender guides the receiver through some pre-battle stretching exercises.

[ CHALLENGE ]:    sender challenges the receiver to a sparring match/actual fight.

[ TEND ]:    sender and receiver tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight.

[ RESTRAIN ]:    sender physically restrains the receiver from attacking someone else.

[ FEND ]:    sender adopts a defensive position that stops the receiver from launching an attack on them.

[ PUNCH ]:    sender punches the receiver (to an unknown degree of success or failure).

[ KICK ]:     sender launches a kick at the receiver (to an unknown degree of success or failure).

[ TACKLE ]:    sender physically tackles the receiver during a fight.

[ DRAG ]:     sender physically drags or carries the receiver away from a fight.

[ UP ]:     sender extends a hand to the fallen receiver to help them to their feet after a fight/sparring match.

[ BACK ]:    sender stands behind the receiver while in the midst of battle in order to help them fight off their enemies.

[ ARRIVE ]:     just as the receiver is about to lose hope and become defeated, the sender arrives at the last minute to help them fight their enemies.

[ EXTRA ]:    sender hands the receiver a spare weapon during a fight to give them a better chance after they break or lose their own.

[ WALL ]:     sender slams the receiver against a wall during a fight/sparring match.

[ COVER ]:    sender lunges forward to throw their body over the receiver and shield them from harm during a fight.

[ POWER ]: sender and/or receiver use their powers during a sparring match in order to develop and enhance their abilities.

[ UNLEASH ]: sender, while fighting with the receiver during a physical confrontation, uses their powers in an effort to gain the upper hand.

[bvnnyface-oldaccount-deactivate]

Fran from i care a lot

[heartfulloffandoms-deactivated2]

[tinytanks]

@cyklonn

[tartt9]

Her words take him aback. He'd mostly been trying to mimic one of the best footballers in the world, a man whose voice was rare to hear, but very distinct when one heard it, a legend of a midfielder, but the legend clearly hadn't carried overseas. Thinking about Roy Kent's voice as foreplay is enough to send a shudder through him - he does not want to think about him in bed. Jamie doesn't reach for the second beer. He'd rather not be sick during drills in the morning. He'd already learned that lesson the hard way at home. "Jamie fucking Tartt." He's not sure why she's so into this Taylor Swift bullshit. His name is very clearly public record, even if he doesn't wear it across his chest like the Americans do. "Who the fuck'd be stupid enough to deny the rest?" Jamie may be dumb, but he wasn't stupid. "I dunno what there is to see in North Island, honestly. I've mostly been between here and base, and that's it." He doesn't let himself feel shame - in his mind, it's because he's better than the other Top Gun pilots, so he doesn't need to have a social life with them.

[tinytanks]

she notices he doesn't take the beer and it only serves to make her frown, picking it up once more and placing it closer to him, "don't know how they play in your neck of the woods, but here, if someone buys you a drink, you drink it, j-swizz." she sips at her own once again, tipping her head to one side at his answer, who would be stupid enough? it makes her chuckle, he's smart as a whip, that was for certain. "there's plenty to see and do, jamie fucking tartt -- i'll show ya, if y'want. old town, the maritime, the barn. hell, there's even a legoland and seaworld. " he doesn't seem like a legoland kinda guy, but she puts it out there anyway, sitting up a little straighter, "an' a whole load of other more divey bars -- those are fun, taytay. wanna go on nightlife tour? "

[tinytanks]

oooohkay -- week from hell at work so i disappeared! drafts will be coming slowly < 3

[tartt9]

Jamie can tell that they're looking at him. He's typically a fan of attention, typically one to preen whenever someone shoots a look his way. He knows he's easy on the eyes. A fucking delight to look at. But, now, he keeps his head down, tongue running over his teeth, pretending as if he can't tell they're looking at him, talking about him. Bold statement to make, he thinks as she returns to him with another beer. He absolutely shouldn't have a second one, not if he knows what's good for him, especially with the drills he'll surely have to run in the morning. "Stop fucking calling me that," he growls, not sure where she's come up with the nickname for him, but he doesn't like it. But the rest of her words quickly shut him up. Fucking her and then her dad? He's never managed that before, but, fuck, if it wouldn't be fun. A boy can dream, can't he. "I ain't desperate," he insists. "And my name's Jamie. Start there. Enough with the Taylor Swift bullshit."

[tinytanks]

" ooh. getting gruff. is that foreplay in england? " eddie simpson is not shaken, she sips her beer, thinking too about the drills he'd have to run in the morning -- in the phys she'd been asked to put the pilots through. it was going to be gnarly ; the last group she'd taken had been sick on the concrete, but she'd pushed them through. stronger and stronger and stronger you get, wise words from her father. " jamie. jamie.. jamie swift. " she smiles away at herself, running the body of the bottle along her forehead once more, " so you deny you're desperate, but you don't deny the rest, huh? hah. " she clinks her bottle against his and sits a little taller, " alright, j - swizzle, what's the plan for the evening? f'you could see anythin' in north island, what'd it be? "

[tinytanks]

hand is full of an old tshirt, clamped over her nose, " fucking seals, man. " she grunts, words muffled against the fabric. eddie groans a little as a sneeze rises in her, " all elbows and testosterone. don't know their own strength.. you know, i actually think there's nothin' between their ears sometimes. she moves the tshirt away and huffs, annoyed, " can you pass me -- i don't fuckin' know, something? over there? " hand waves vaguely before fingers begin to wiggle expectantly. @ltkarma.

[tinytanks]

" i am willin' to bet you that i can his a triple twenty on that dartboard with my eyes covered. " the proposition is punctuated with three darts clattering to the table ; dangerous, it was, to make a bet with a simpson, but she wasn't going to admit to that. she finishes the dregs of her beer and beams, surprisingly perky considering she was not long back from deployment, " if i can, you buy the rounds tonight. if i can't, i will. yeah? fifty - fifty odds, how's that for you? " her grin is bright, excited, eyes matching that with their own glint. " you know me, i would never cheat ya. " @dngerclose.

[tartt9]

Cyclone’s kid isn’t a pilot? Jamie is officially confused. He supposes that this is what he gets when he actively doesn’t pay attention during most things that don’t involve him. Her words draw silence out of Striker - a rare thing to anyone who knows him. Fuck, she’s right. It does suck ass to not have any friends. He doesn’t know why the RAF sent him and him alone - he’d always figured there’d be more Brits involved in this training than just himself. Jamie knows he’s the best they’ve got — he’d known that for fucking years. But the only one to be sent this far from home? It aches. He’s fucking lonely. “I’m too good for ‘em to burn me outta the sky,” he finally responds, though his tone of voice is different - sadder, almost. Still cocky - always still cocky - but there’s something in his eyes that proves she affected him. Then she says he doesn’t smell good, and his eyes narrow. He definitely remembered his Lynx - didn’t he? Subtly tilting his head to smell himself, he confirms he definitely put on Lynx after his shower. He shoots her a glare, muttering a curse under his breath. "It ain't my fault you lot all want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid," he calls after her, deciding not to bite his tongue anymore. That's what she gets for telling him he smells bad. Leather & Cookies is fucking excellent, and they don't fucking sell it in this shithole country. He smells great.

[tinytanks]

--- his comment about looking stupid only serves to make her throw him a smile over her shoulder before leaning back to talk to penny, exchanging notes and glances the englishman's way before the tank approaches the table once more, having not let it go unnoticed in her mind about that sad little look in the corner of his eyes. " trust me, i never look stupid, regardless of how badly i would like to fuck someone. " a playful wink is delivered alongside another beer, clinking the bottom of her bottle against its body, "so.. are we talkin' now? are you gonna let someone be nice to you, tswifts? you know what -- if you perk up a bit, let me take you out, i might just let you fuck me like you clearly, so desperately want to. " see striker? two can play at that game. her finger drags up the side of her beer bottle, collecting the condensation as she goes.

[tinytanks]

highway to the starter zone!

[tartt9]

"Do you, though? We've got two different ranking systems, and Daddy didn't tell me I had to obey your orders, too," Jamie points out, rolling his eyes and leaning back into his chair. Probably not the best idea to refer to Cyclone as Daddy, but Jamie's sense of self-preservation has been minimal at best since he was a child. He takes another sip of his beer, trying to pretend like he isn't sweating his balls off. He isn't meant for America, and he especially isn't meant for summer in Southern California. He's a Manchester boy, tried and true, and he isn't built for weather like this. But he knows how to bite his tongue and keep complaints in. Knows how to ignore the sweat, keep hydrating, not show any signs of weakness. "Do I look like I need any help getting around?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at her. "There's a reason my country sent me over here - to save your lot's asses. You need me, I don't need you."

[tinytanks]

--- " look, i don't need shit from you. i'm not a fucking pilot, i couldn't care less about you and your li'l mr englishman uniform. " her dark eyes roll in their sockets so hard that her eyes near close altogether, all too used to the ' daddy ' remarks - but really, edwina was her own person, it didn't get to her the way people might think. it annoyed her only because she expected better of people than for them to make low - blow type jokes. unimaginative jokes. " two different ranking systems, sure, but ranks still -- god you're fuckin' hard headed. i was just trying to be fucking nice, dude. i know how much it can suck ass here if you don't have anyone on your side. i wasn't giving you orders, i was trying to have a laugh. don't they laugh in england? " her huff disturbs her thick curls and eds casts her eyes to the water, using its waves as a way to remind her to breathe, pause, " i don't know who hurt you, but they probably brought you in to work as a team. you don't work as a team with this lot, they'll burn you outta the sky. " it wasn't a threat, it was fact; she'd seen it before. " by the way, you don't smell good. you want deodorant? " she looks back to him, lips set in a firm line, " i'm going to the bar to get myself another. i can ask penny for some. "