Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Hood: And now for something completely different... the Battleship with two sterns.
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Gale: *Sips coffee while having "Baby Got Back" playing*
- Location
- Vancouver, Washington
I assumed that only one is Jersey's. The other asses are her wall collection of those she has removed for being a pain in HER ass.
Stahor
BookWorm
- Location
- Russia, Moscow
- Location
- Vancouver, Washington
That curved funnel. So distinctive and so rebellious!
- Location
- 'Murica
Hmm.... sure. Why not! Younger!Naggy is adorable. Mutsu has baby pictures of her if you want.
FelOnyx
Love and Peace!
- Location
- Gunsmoke
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Mutsu: My my. Do you really want to see? She was so cute~
Stahor
BookWorm
- Location
- Russia, Moscow
Will NJ and Ari rage at the fact that she wears LESS after "maturing"?
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Arizona's the only one with issues on dress code. And she hasn't met Nagato. But methinks Naggy wears her uniform in a more... proper manner.
Compared to Mutsu at least.
Stahor
BookWorm
- Location
- Russia, Moscow
There different ways to wear microskirt/corset/bikini-top combo?Arizona's the only one with issues on dress code. And she hasn't met Nagato. But methinks Naggy wears her uniform in a more... proper manner.
Compared to Mutsu at least.
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Arizona: Lieutenant Commander Mutsu wears hers in a manner that is... significantly more lascivious.There different ways to wear microskirt/corset/bikini-top combo?
Mutsu: Maybe you wouldn't feel so hung up on it if you tried it on. I have a few extras and I know your measurements~
Stahor
BookWorm
- Location
- Russia, Moscow
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Arizona: Both contribute to the problem. Miss Nagato's admirable professionalism mitigates my issues considerably.
Arizona: *frown* Lieutenant Commander...
Richardson: It's... very attractive.
Mutsu: *smile smile* ~☆
Selonianth
Writer of Words
Jersey: How the Fuck do you pronounce the star?!?!
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Mutsu: You'll have to find out from Naka. She's much better at it than I am.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Jane: It's really easy~⭐️
Gale: Burn~
LGear
Secret Society BLANKET
The age of the battleship was not ended by the rise of the aircraft carrier: it died by the power of moe.
Thus why the battleships took the moe, and adopted it as their weapon.
And thus, the shipgirls were born.
- Location
- 'Murica
Working on the next chapter while reading KCQ. But first, I have an important news bulliten.
If you haven't read @Skywalker_T-65's Changing Destiny, drop what you're doing and read it. Now. All of it. It's bar-none the best thing to come out of the KC fandom. Like... ever.
If you haven't read @Skywalker_T-65's Changing Destiny, drop what you're doing and read it. Now. All of it. It's bar-none the best thing to come out of the KC fandom. Like... ever.
Part 59: Friscotime!
- Location
- 'Murica
Part 59
Every last eye in the enormous concert hall was practically welded to San Francisco. What felt like the whole world stared at her and held its breath. Frisco felt her own heart—did she even have a heart—pound against her rib cage. An eight-piece symphony beat deep within her chest as her boilers pushed against their red lines. Frisco was a fighting ship. There wasn't much she remembered about life stateside, and even less she experienced even second hand. But she knew enough.
After Pearl, after Ari, people like… her weren't Americans anymore. They weren't patriots who wanted to serve the country of their birth. They were targets. Nisei Americans might have bled red-white-and-blue, but all their fellow countrymen saw was the yellow skin of the country that'd sucker-punched the great ships of Pearl Harbor.
Watching all these people stare down at her in mute shock, Frisco felt her hands ball to fists by her side. She clenched the muscles of her scared stomach and forced herself to take a deep breath. They might hate her… they might drag her into a camp and let her rot until the war was over. But she would not, would NOT fight back. She was an American warship, she'd be damned before she threw a punch at another American. Never again would she harm her countrymen. Even if it meant a quick trip to the breakers.
But as the fetching little brunette who'd identified herself as a sailor lead Frisco though the crowd, the old heavy cruiser noticed something. Something she'd missed in her panic.
Every last eye in the enormous concert hall was staring at her. Some held up slender black slivers of metal, some just stared with tears trailing down their cheeks. They were all staring at her. With hope.
Dammit. Now she was starting to tear up. That just wouldn't do. Especially with a clutch of destroyers excitedly plowing a path though the crowd. Frisco wiped at her face with the end of her neckerchief and turned to the cute sailor girl. Damn, they did not make sailors like her during the war. No sir.
"Hey, uh…" Frisco trailed off. She wasn't even sure what the girl's name was, nor did she know her rank. She didn't even know her own rank, for that matter. Did ships even getranks?
"Yeah?" the girl glanced over with a cute little smile. The kind of dopey smile you get when something nice has happened. The kind that you can't drive off even with a division of angry Marines.
"I don't uh…" Frisco let her hands fall to the pistol belt handing around her hips. "You got a name, sailor?"
"Oh, shit, uh… yeah," the sailor's face blushed a pale red, "Yeoman second class Sarah Gale, nice to meet you."
"You too," Frisco blew a loose strand of raven black hair out of her eye. As much as she appreciated how good her new hair looked, it was getting annoying. "Where're we going for dinner?"
"Well," the girl—Gale—fumbled with a slim rubber-encased rectangle. "There's a nice Japanese place-"
"No," Frisco shook her head, her hands idly crawling back up her body to cradle her scarred-over stomach. "I, uh… I've had enough chop suey to last me a lifetime. I wanna burger."
"Me too!" chorused the three destroyers.
"A burger sounds great right now," said the slightly taller and much much curvier North Carolina class battleship.
"You sure?" Gale's gaze drifted across the busy street
"I'm American," said Frisco, "I need burgers in my belly."
"Well," Gale sighed. The sailors eyes drifted down Frisco's hull—or her body—for a brief second before darting back up to her eyes, "I guess I can't argue with that. Hard Rock Cafe's just down the block."
"Oooh, that sounds awesome!" said Kidd.
"I can dig it," said Bannie.
Dee just nodded enthusiastically.
"I bow you your culinary skills," said Wash with an exaggerated curtsy. A curtsy that, Frisco couldn't help but notice, pulled her sweater a little snug around those torpedo bulges. By the glowing blush on Gale's face, she noticed too.
"Uh…" Gale gulped. "Yeah. Let's just…" she trailed off and stuck off down the sidewalk.
For a few moments, the little flotilla walked in silence. Frisco couldn't help but smile as the concentrated… humanity of the big city washed over her. Her skin was bathed in the off-orange glow of street lamps and the kaleidoscope of neon signs. The crisp December air was heavy with the sent of cooking food, burnt gasoline, and warm breath, it surrounded her like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. It felt like home.
"Hey, ah, Frisco?" Gale glanced over with one eyebrow solidly stuck at full attention.
"Hmm?" As much as the cruiser enjoyed just drinking in her new surroundings, she was happy to talk with someone. All those long years of service, and she could finally talk to someone.
"I, uh… My old girlfriend was from Cali," said Gale. If she noticed the way Frisco's eyebrows peaked, she didn't say anything. "She said nobody calls the city 'Frisco'. They call it 'San Fran'."
"Well… of course," said Frisco. "Emperor Norton made it illegal to call San Francisco 'Frisco decades ago. That's old news even for me."
"Then why do you go by Frisco?"
Frisco blinked. "Do I look like a city?" She asked. "San Fran's my namesake, but I'm Frisco."
"Oh," Gale nodded, "Okay. That makes sense."
"Gale," Wash spoke up for the first time in a few minutes, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."
"Ex!" snapped Gale. "Uh… ex… she was my ex," the sailor offered a timid smile. "We're not a thing anymore."
"Oh," said Wash with a nod. Her regal face didn't betray anything beyond a hint of genuine interest.
"Oh~" Frisco smiled to herself as she let that trailing tilde slip though her lips.
"Oh…" Gale let out a frustrated sigh. The sailor grumbled something under her breath in the way that only NCOs truly can and quickly herded the girls into a gaudily decorated restaurant with a large guitar acting as its sign. Before the fetching Asian waitress could open her mouth, Gale flipped open her military ID and wafted it thought he air.
"That one's a battleship," Gale pointed to where Wash was idly pawing at the snug-fitting fabric over her belly.
The waitress's face drained of color faster than Frisco thought humanly possible. "I… I…" she sputtered as her mind frantically struggled to get itself back on its rails. "I, uh… " her voice died even as her mouth kept spasming like a goldfish abruptly yanked out of water. She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen. "I'll get you guys a table."
The little flotilla wordlessly fell into line astern behind the waitress. Frisco felt her stomach rumble as the smell of fresh hamburgers wafted though the air. She hadn't relized it before, but she was hungry. Starving, even. The muscles around her stomach were quivering as her belly cramped inside her. No wonder her crew liked chow time so much.
"Here you go." The girl's voice was as flat as a scratchy record that'd been played a few times to many as she mechanically motioned to a booth in the corner. "Can I get you started with anything?"
"Mac and cheese for the kiddos," Gale motioned to where Kidd and Bannie were frantically fencing with their butter knives. "A Texan sandwich for me," Gale sighed and stared down Frisco and Wash.
Both shipgirls were pawing at their bellies as the sent of cooking meat wafted though the spiced air. Then Wash's belly let out a little gurgle loud enough to get Kidd and Bannie to stop their flynning.
"Get them one of literally everything you have," said Gale, "And we'll go from there."
"O-" the waitress gulped, "Okay," she mumbled.
Mere instants after the traumatized waitress left, Gale sunk low in her chair. Her jeans squealed against the vinyl as she slid so low her head was barely visible above the table. With a pointed look to Wash and Frisco, the sailor held up her little rectangle like it was a crucifix and started frantically jabbing at its surface. It was a defense even Kidd and Bannie's sword fight couldn't shatter.
Every last eye in the enormous concert hall was practically welded to San Francisco. What felt like the whole world stared at her and held its breath. Frisco felt her own heart—did she even have a heart—pound against her rib cage. An eight-piece symphony beat deep within her chest as her boilers pushed against their red lines. Frisco was a fighting ship. There wasn't much she remembered about life stateside, and even less she experienced even second hand. But she knew enough.
After Pearl, after Ari, people like… her weren't Americans anymore. They weren't patriots who wanted to serve the country of their birth. They were targets. Nisei Americans might have bled red-white-and-blue, but all their fellow countrymen saw was the yellow skin of the country that'd sucker-punched the great ships of Pearl Harbor.
Watching all these people stare down at her in mute shock, Frisco felt her hands ball to fists by her side. She clenched the muscles of her scared stomach and forced herself to take a deep breath. They might hate her… they might drag her into a camp and let her rot until the war was over. But she would not, would NOT fight back. She was an American warship, she'd be damned before she threw a punch at another American. Never again would she harm her countrymen. Even if it meant a quick trip to the breakers.
But as the fetching little brunette who'd identified herself as a sailor lead Frisco though the crowd, the old heavy cruiser noticed something. Something she'd missed in her panic.
Every last eye in the enormous concert hall was staring at her. Some held up slender black slivers of metal, some just stared with tears trailing down their cheeks. They were all staring at her. With hope.
Dammit. Now she was starting to tear up. That just wouldn't do. Especially with a clutch of destroyers excitedly plowing a path though the crowd. Frisco wiped at her face with the end of her neckerchief and turned to the cute sailor girl. Damn, they did not make sailors like her during the war. No sir.
"Hey, uh…" Frisco trailed off. She wasn't even sure what the girl's name was, nor did she know her rank. She didn't even know her own rank, for that matter. Did ships even getranks?
"Yeah?" the girl glanced over with a cute little smile. The kind of dopey smile you get when something nice has happened. The kind that you can't drive off even with a division of angry Marines.
"I don't uh…" Frisco let her hands fall to the pistol belt handing around her hips. "You got a name, sailor?"
"Oh, shit, uh… yeah," the sailor's face blushed a pale red, "Yeoman second class Sarah Gale, nice to meet you."
"You too," Frisco blew a loose strand of raven black hair out of her eye. As much as she appreciated how good her new hair looked, it was getting annoying. "Where're we going for dinner?"
"Well," the girl—Gale—fumbled with a slim rubber-encased rectangle. "There's a nice Japanese place-"
"No," Frisco shook her head, her hands idly crawling back up her body to cradle her scarred-over stomach. "I, uh… I've had enough chop suey to last me a lifetime. I wanna burger."
"Me too!" chorused the three destroyers.
"A burger sounds great right now," said the slightly taller and much much curvier North Carolina class battleship.
"You sure?" Gale's gaze drifted across the busy street
"I'm American," said Frisco, "I need burgers in my belly."
"Well," Gale sighed. The sailors eyes drifted down Frisco's hull—or her body—for a brief second before darting back up to her eyes, "I guess I can't argue with that. Hard Rock Cafe's just down the block."
"Oooh, that sounds awesome!" said Kidd.
"I can dig it," said Bannie.
Dee just nodded enthusiastically.
"I bow you your culinary skills," said Wash with an exaggerated curtsy. A curtsy that, Frisco couldn't help but notice, pulled her sweater a little snug around those torpedo bulges. By the glowing blush on Gale's face, she noticed too.
"Uh…" Gale gulped. "Yeah. Let's just…" she trailed off and stuck off down the sidewalk.
For a few moments, the little flotilla walked in silence. Frisco couldn't help but smile as the concentrated… humanity of the big city washed over her. Her skin was bathed in the off-orange glow of street lamps and the kaleidoscope of neon signs. The crisp December air was heavy with the sent of cooking food, burnt gasoline, and warm breath, it surrounded her like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. It felt like home.
"Hey, ah, Frisco?" Gale glanced over with one eyebrow solidly stuck at full attention.
"Hmm?" As much as the cruiser enjoyed just drinking in her new surroundings, she was happy to talk with someone. All those long years of service, and she could finally talk to someone.
"I, uh… My old girlfriend was from Cali," said Gale. If she noticed the way Frisco's eyebrows peaked, she didn't say anything. "She said nobody calls the city 'Frisco'. They call it 'San Fran'."
"Well… of course," said Frisco. "Emperor Norton made it illegal to call San Francisco 'Frisco decades ago. That's old news even for me."
"Then why do you go by Frisco?"
Frisco blinked. "Do I look like a city?" She asked. "San Fran's my namesake, but I'm Frisco."
"Oh," Gale nodded, "Okay. That makes sense."
"Gale," Wash spoke up for the first time in a few minutes, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."
"Ex!" snapped Gale. "Uh… ex… she was my ex," the sailor offered a timid smile. "We're not a thing anymore."
"Oh," said Wash with a nod. Her regal face didn't betray anything beyond a hint of genuine interest.
"Oh~" Frisco smiled to herself as she let that trailing tilde slip though her lips.
"Oh…" Gale let out a frustrated sigh. The sailor grumbled something under her breath in the way that only NCOs truly can and quickly herded the girls into a gaudily decorated restaurant with a large guitar acting as its sign. Before the fetching Asian waitress could open her mouth, Gale flipped open her military ID and wafted it thought he air.
"That one's a battleship," Gale pointed to where Wash was idly pawing at the snug-fitting fabric over her belly.
The waitress's face drained of color faster than Frisco thought humanly possible. "I… I…" she sputtered as her mind frantically struggled to get itself back on its rails. "I, uh… " her voice died even as her mouth kept spasming like a goldfish abruptly yanked out of water. She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen. "I'll get you guys a table."
The little flotilla wordlessly fell into line astern behind the waitress. Frisco felt her stomach rumble as the smell of fresh hamburgers wafted though the air. She hadn't relized it before, but she was hungry. Starving, even. The muscles around her stomach were quivering as her belly cramped inside her. No wonder her crew liked chow time so much.
"Here you go." The girl's voice was as flat as a scratchy record that'd been played a few times to many as she mechanically motioned to a booth in the corner. "Can I get you started with anything?"
"Mac and cheese for the kiddos," Gale motioned to where Kidd and Bannie were frantically fencing with their butter knives. "A Texan sandwich for me," Gale sighed and stared down Frisco and Wash.
Both shipgirls were pawing at their bellies as the sent of cooking meat wafted though the spiced air. Then Wash's belly let out a little gurgle loud enough to get Kidd and Bannie to stop their flynning.
"Get them one of literally everything you have," said Gale, "And we'll go from there."
"O-" the waitress gulped, "Okay," she mumbled.
Mere instants after the traumatized waitress left, Gale sunk low in her chair. Her jeans squealed against the vinyl as she slid so low her head was barely visible above the table. With a pointed look to Wash and Frisco, the sailor held up her little rectangle like it was a crucifix and started frantically jabbing at its surface. It was a defense even Kidd and Bannie's sword fight couldn't shatter.
Last edited:
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Poor, poor Gale...