Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Unspeakablly Awesome fanart!
pjmoyer
Terrapin Corps
- Location
- Maryland
Submitted for your consideration - the updated analysis from Jane's Fighting Kanmusu:
(It should be noted that the expression depicted here is not typical, and usually only seen when Jersey has just taken selfies with descendants of former crewmembers, recently received praise from her Admiral, or generally in the presence of Dr. Crowning.)
(It should be noted that the expression depicted here is not typical, and usually only seen when Jersey has just taken selfies with descendants of former crewmembers, recently received praise from her Admiral, or generally in the presence of Dr. Crowning.)
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
That's amazing!Submitted for your consideration - the updated analysis from Jane's Fighting Kanmusu:
(It should be noted that the expression depicted here is not typical, and usually only seen when Jersey has just taken selfies with descendants of former crewmembers, recently received praise from her Admiral, or generally in the presence of Dr. Crowning.)
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
That is fucking incredible!
Selonianth
Writer of Words
It's actually particularly impressive if you used the same pen for the writing as you used for the drawing. Those pens are a pain in the ass sometimes.
- Location
- 'Murica
*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*Submitted for your consideration - the updated analysis from Jane's Fighting Kanmusu:
(It should be noted that the expression depicted here is not typical, and usually only seen when Jersey has just taken selfies with descendants of former crewmembers, recently received praise from her Admiral, or generally in the presence of Dr. Crowning.)
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
now the important question: what does Jersey think?
pjmoyer
Terrapin Corps
- Location
- Maryland
Actually they were a set of Staedtler pigment liners (and one Copic Multi-Liner) that I've used for years now.
Selonianth
Writer of Words
Are they those super thinpointed pens that have a tendency to punch straight through paper if it's not thick enough? (IE not drawing paper)
pjmoyer
Terrapin Corps
- Location
- Maryland
No, not really, They're the same really as the better quality felt-tips.
Old Iron Writeup
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Have some Mutsutime.
* * * * *
"You appear to be in a good mood," remarked Battleship Nagato with a small measure of amusement. She entered the room provided to both herself and her sister and shut the door with a soft click.
"Is it that obvious?" Mutsu smiled as she rolled onto her back. The beds weren't the most comfortable things in the world, but she wouldn't complain. Just having a bed in and of itself was a luxury to enjoy given their situation.
"We may not have much opportunity to see one another in person, but I would have to be blind to miss it." Nagato took a seat on the bed next to Mutsu, smoothing her skirt out as she did so. "Does this have anything to do with your report to Admiral Richardson?"
Nagato reached up and removed her headgear with a well practiced motion. It never failed to feel unusual even after all this time. As a woman, it was a weight off her person and eased the burden placed upon her back ever so slightly. However as a ship, it felt as though she'd just removed a large section of her bridge and control systems. It was a bit of a relief either way.
"Mhm... Maybe." Mutsu wouldn't deny she was looking forward to delivering the report. It wouldn't have been too much trouble to borrow a secure means of communicating a report back to Sasebo. However she had gone the extra mile to commandeer a little personal time to go with it. She might own the entirety of DesDiv6 a favor, but it would be well worth it. The laptop on the nearby nightstand waited silently. "I'm really anxious to hear how everyone back home is doing. A little time with my Admiral is just a bonus."
"Hm... Then I suppose I should not disturb yo-!" Nagato made to stand with a small smile before she found herself pulled back onto the bed by a pair of slender, but tremendously powerful arms. It was a testament to the construction of the furniture that it did not buckle beneath the mass of two Nagato-class battleships.
Nagato also did not let out a squeak of surprise. Absolutely not.
"I'm not going to kick my oneesan out of the room just for this. We hardly see each other as is, so John can just put up with it~" She certainly enjoyed spending time with Admiral Richardson. And so very often did her boilers threaten to red-line when he was near. But she was a warship. Not a woman. Right? Sure, the lines blurred in a lot of confusing ways. However...
No. Better to not think about it right now. She wasn't Kongou. Though she wouldn't deny a little advice from the hyperactive Japanese Fast Battleship equivalent to Mary Poppins might go a long way.
"It would not be my place to intrude, but if you insist." Nagato adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on the bed as she spoke. The bed wasn't really designed for two people to relax on, but it wasn't bad. Certainly she missed her quarters back at Yokosuka and would prefer it any day of the week. However after the maelstrom the combined fleet had gone through, it was hardly something to complain about. "And Crowning-sensei is a literature professor, not a shaman."
"He's a magic man, so I think it still applies." Her mirthful tone was met with a flat look of barely suppressed resignation. She poked Nagato's cheek playfully "We run on sparkly magical shipgirl bullshit after all. We both have to help out Admirals deal with it, so we can hardly claim to be ignorant of it. The Crowning-sensei just happens to have become the foremost authority in the world on it. I think that qualifies at a magic man."
"Hmph. I would at least have preferred to not look like a fool in front of New Jersey. She took it in stride, but it was still embarrassing on my part." It certainly hadn't helped her mood given her magazine full of adorable destroyers had been destroyed via considerable water damage.
"Ah. But you were able to relax, weren't you?" Mutsu rolled over to give her elder sister a hug, the recipient reluctantly allowing the action with red tinged cheeks. "It got your mind off the battle. And what happened to Heermann. Those Americans are tough as can be, but that didn't make seeing her like that any easier..."
"True... It did take my mind off things." Nagato frowned as her thoughts drifted. Heermann had done her duty like any good destroyer. And she had done splendidly. Yet that kill order... It filled her with a kind of cold rage she'd not felt before. No matter how hard things had been. No matter how close to defeat they had been, nothing had come close to seeing that Fletcher with her legs so mauled. Come hell or high water, Battleship Nagato would not allow that to happen again.
Nagato turned her gaze to Mutsu and offered her a rare, easy smile. "But I wonder. Just who is supposed to be the older sister here?"
"Hmhm~ I have to pull double duty because I have such a difficult sister. Someone needs to look out for her. She looks after everyone else after all."
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" A baritone, laced with rare humor cut into the relaxing mood.
Both battleships turned to look at the source and bore witness to Rear Admiral Richardson gazing at them from the laptop's screen. There was a lazy expression on his face, as if he wasn't really surprised at what he was seeing.
"J-John? How long have yo-?" There was that pesky red-line again.
"I'm debating whether or not to ask Admiral Williams if he can pass on the message that Professor Crowning is a 'Magic Man' as you put it." Mutsu had plenty to hold over his head. He felt absolutely no reservations in getting a little something of his own.
"Sir, I apologize for our current state. But I would ask that in the future you make your presence known." Nagato sat upright, with only minor difficulty owing to a blushing little sister hanging onto her, and saluted as best she was able.
"Don't worry about it. And I'll pipe up next time. Wasn't sure where to cut in before things got heavy." Richardson returned the salute easily. It was rare in happening, but speaking with Nagato was something he would describe as smooth. No bullshit. Just straight up and to the point. He appreciated that. Goto was a lucky man to have her around. Well, Goto was lucky in a lot of ways. Nagato was merely a single facet of that. "And Mutsu? Next time don't set up the connection and leave it there."
"Y-Yes sir." Well, at least he wasn't giving her too much grief. A miss like that wasn't something he'd let slide without a few good jabs. Fortunately her sister's presence acted as quite the deterrent. She cleared her throat and released Nagato from her embrace before moving the laptop onto the bed so all three of them could speak with each other more easily.
There was a pregnant pause before Richardson let out a tremendous sigh of exhaustion. He appeared to age no fewer than ten years before their eyes.
"Are you alright?" Mutsu's query was well laced with concern and even Nagato appeared to have a worried look in her eyes.
"I have one battleship having nightmares every time she tries to sleep for more than five minutes. Another with the biggest black eye I've ever seen. A submarine trying to teach lewdmarines how to submarine. An overworked light cruiser. And a daughter trying to get rid of battleship nightmares." Richardson rested his chin in the palm of one hand and snorted. "Want me to go on?"
"No, I think I get the picture." Mutsu sighed wearily and palmed her face. Really. How much more trouble could this man get into? No. She already knew the answer to that and had accepted it was simply part and parcel of his life.
"Admiral Richardson, pardon my intrusion, but you mentioned a submarine?" Nagato knew the postings of every sub Japan had enlisted. And unless Iku decided to go have fun at Sasebo, there were only two submarines making the Sasebo pens their home at the moment.
"Oh. Right. Lieutenant Junior Grade Albacore. She broke into the house, ran out on Jane's cooking, stole my pants, and then saved Arizona's stern from an intimate encounter with Davy Jones." He would have laughed at both battleships' flabbergasted expressions if he wasn't so worn out. Even Nagato had dropped the professional image at the utter madness he was spouting. "She likes gel pens. Really colo-"
"No no no! Back up!" Mutsu would have grabbed the laptop and shaken it, demanding answers from the man displayed on the inanimate object, had Nagato not restrained her. It wasn't often she had such outbursts. But they were usually well warranted. "Broke into the house? And what about Arizona? She fought!?"
"Mutsu, calm down. I assure you we'd be having a very different conversation if Arizona hadn't come home." Richardson cast a hard gaze through the LCD screen. "And her lack of operational discipline has already been brought to her attention by Hiei. She would have died out there if it hadn't been for Albacore. With no kills to her name and coming back with critical damage, Arizona had probably the worst debut in shipgirl history. It was her maiden battle too."
Nagato remained silent as she absorbed the information offered. No doubt she would have received the official report in some capacity down the line, but hearing about a battle in such a candid scenario was always somewhat unnerving.
"I... Oh my... How is she?" Mutsu forced herself to calm down. What was done was done and there was no use blowing her third turret sky high.
"She's in good shape all things considered. It's hard to tell she was even damaged at all with how she carries herself." Richardson leaned back in his chair and relaxed his expression. "Hiei came back with a few scratches and Albie didn't even chip her paint. Jintsuu was running damage control at home with Jane, so she didn't participate in the battle."
"That's a relief." She placed an hand to her breast and took a deep breath to drive off any remaining nerves. Everyone was home, safe and sound. That's what mattered most to her.
"Admiral, I think it would be best if Tenryuu was provided with an advance warning. It would rather she find out long in advance of any possible meeting." Nagato interrupted the drama with a little of her own. Even if the two ships never actually met, it was far better to be safe than sorry. The same would be done if Taihou ever graced the fleet with her presence.
"Tenryuu's under Goto's direct command, not mine. And you know your fleet a hell of a lot better than I do. If you think that's the best course of action then I'm not about to stop you." Richardson might offer a suggestion or two if the situation called for it. However if there was nothing to be gained, then he wasn't going to start sticking his fingers where they didn't belong. Goto's fleet was one such place.
"Thank you sir." Nagato cleared her throat and motioned to Mutsu, who was looking more and more like she wanted to say something. "But I think we have put off Mutsu's report long enough. She performed quite well against the Northern Princess if I might say. Perhaps even deserving of a... reward~"
Mutsu's head turned so quickly, one could almost hear a gearbox ping in agony. Her gaping expression and rapidly reddening cheeks a clear sign that she was having trouble processing what her stoic, all business and formality before the Admiralty sister had just said. What Battleship Nagato had just implied.
Even Richardson seemed taken aback for a moment before he gave up and began laughing like a madman.
"It is harder that I thought to pull that off."
"N-N-Nagato-nee!?"
* * * * *
* * * * *
"You appear to be in a good mood," remarked Battleship Nagato with a small measure of amusement. She entered the room provided to both herself and her sister and shut the door with a soft click.
"Is it that obvious?" Mutsu smiled as she rolled onto her back. The beds weren't the most comfortable things in the world, but she wouldn't complain. Just having a bed in and of itself was a luxury to enjoy given their situation.
"We may not have much opportunity to see one another in person, but I would have to be blind to miss it." Nagato took a seat on the bed next to Mutsu, smoothing her skirt out as she did so. "Does this have anything to do with your report to Admiral Richardson?"
Nagato reached up and removed her headgear with a well practiced motion. It never failed to feel unusual even after all this time. As a woman, it was a weight off her person and eased the burden placed upon her back ever so slightly. However as a ship, it felt as though she'd just removed a large section of her bridge and control systems. It was a bit of a relief either way.
"Mhm... Maybe." Mutsu wouldn't deny she was looking forward to delivering the report. It wouldn't have been too much trouble to borrow a secure means of communicating a report back to Sasebo. However she had gone the extra mile to commandeer a little personal time to go with it. She might own the entirety of DesDiv6 a favor, but it would be well worth it. The laptop on the nearby nightstand waited silently. "I'm really anxious to hear how everyone back home is doing. A little time with my Admiral is just a bonus."
"Hm... Then I suppose I should not disturb yo-!" Nagato made to stand with a small smile before she found herself pulled back onto the bed by a pair of slender, but tremendously powerful arms. It was a testament to the construction of the furniture that it did not buckle beneath the mass of two Nagato-class battleships.
Nagato also did not let out a squeak of surprise. Absolutely not.
"I'm not going to kick my oneesan out of the room just for this. We hardly see each other as is, so John can just put up with it~" She certainly enjoyed spending time with Admiral Richardson. And so very often did her boilers threaten to red-line when he was near. But she was a warship. Not a woman. Right? Sure, the lines blurred in a lot of confusing ways. However...
No. Better to not think about it right now. She wasn't Kongou. Though she wouldn't deny a little advice from the hyperactive Japanese Fast Battleship equivalent to Mary Poppins might go a long way.
"It would not be my place to intrude, but if you insist." Nagato adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on the bed as she spoke. The bed wasn't really designed for two people to relax on, but it wasn't bad. Certainly she missed her quarters back at Yokosuka and would prefer it any day of the week. However after the maelstrom the combined fleet had gone through, it was hardly something to complain about. "And Crowning-sensei is a literature professor, not a shaman."
"He's a magic man, so I think it still applies." Her mirthful tone was met with a flat look of barely suppressed resignation. She poked Nagato's cheek playfully "We run on sparkly magical shipgirl bullshit after all. We both have to help out Admirals deal with it, so we can hardly claim to be ignorant of it. The Crowning-sensei just happens to have become the foremost authority in the world on it. I think that qualifies at a magic man."
"Hmph. I would at least have preferred to not look like a fool in front of New Jersey. She took it in stride, but it was still embarrassing on my part." It certainly hadn't helped her mood given her magazine full of adorable destroyers had been destroyed via considerable water damage.
"Ah. But you were able to relax, weren't you?" Mutsu rolled over to give her elder sister a hug, the recipient reluctantly allowing the action with red tinged cheeks. "It got your mind off the battle. And what happened to Heermann. Those Americans are tough as can be, but that didn't make seeing her like that any easier..."
"True... It did take my mind off things." Nagato frowned as her thoughts drifted. Heermann had done her duty like any good destroyer. And she had done splendidly. Yet that kill order... It filled her with a kind of cold rage she'd not felt before. No matter how hard things had been. No matter how close to defeat they had been, nothing had come close to seeing that Fletcher with her legs so mauled. Come hell or high water, Battleship Nagato would not allow that to happen again.
Nagato turned her gaze to Mutsu and offered her a rare, easy smile. "But I wonder. Just who is supposed to be the older sister here?"
"Hmhm~ I have to pull double duty because I have such a difficult sister. Someone needs to look out for her. She looks after everyone else after all."
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" A baritone, laced with rare humor cut into the relaxing mood.
Both battleships turned to look at the source and bore witness to Rear Admiral Richardson gazing at them from the laptop's screen. There was a lazy expression on his face, as if he wasn't really surprised at what he was seeing.
"J-John? How long have yo-?" There was that pesky red-line again.
"I'm debating whether or not to ask Admiral Williams if he can pass on the message that Professor Crowning is a 'Magic Man' as you put it." Mutsu had plenty to hold over his head. He felt absolutely no reservations in getting a little something of his own.
"Sir, I apologize for our current state. But I would ask that in the future you make your presence known." Nagato sat upright, with only minor difficulty owing to a blushing little sister hanging onto her, and saluted as best she was able.
"Don't worry about it. And I'll pipe up next time. Wasn't sure where to cut in before things got heavy." Richardson returned the salute easily. It was rare in happening, but speaking with Nagato was something he would describe as smooth. No bullshit. Just straight up and to the point. He appreciated that. Goto was a lucky man to have her around. Well, Goto was lucky in a lot of ways. Nagato was merely a single facet of that. "And Mutsu? Next time don't set up the connection and leave it there."
"Y-Yes sir." Well, at least he wasn't giving her too much grief. A miss like that wasn't something he'd let slide without a few good jabs. Fortunately her sister's presence acted as quite the deterrent. She cleared her throat and released Nagato from her embrace before moving the laptop onto the bed so all three of them could speak with each other more easily.
There was a pregnant pause before Richardson let out a tremendous sigh of exhaustion. He appeared to age no fewer than ten years before their eyes.
"Are you alright?" Mutsu's query was well laced with concern and even Nagato appeared to have a worried look in her eyes.
"I have one battleship having nightmares every time she tries to sleep for more than five minutes. Another with the biggest black eye I've ever seen. A submarine trying to teach lewdmarines how to submarine. An overworked light cruiser. And a daughter trying to get rid of battleship nightmares." Richardson rested his chin in the palm of one hand and snorted. "Want me to go on?"
"No, I think I get the picture." Mutsu sighed wearily and palmed her face. Really. How much more trouble could this man get into? No. She already knew the answer to that and had accepted it was simply part and parcel of his life.
"Admiral Richardson, pardon my intrusion, but you mentioned a submarine?" Nagato knew the postings of every sub Japan had enlisted. And unless Iku decided to go have fun at Sasebo, there were only two submarines making the Sasebo pens their home at the moment.
"Oh. Right. Lieutenant Junior Grade Albacore. She broke into the house, ran out on Jane's cooking, stole my pants, and then saved Arizona's stern from an intimate encounter with Davy Jones." He would have laughed at both battleships' flabbergasted expressions if he wasn't so worn out. Even Nagato had dropped the professional image at the utter madness he was spouting. "She likes gel pens. Really colo-"
"No no no! Back up!" Mutsu would have grabbed the laptop and shaken it, demanding answers from the man displayed on the inanimate object, had Nagato not restrained her. It wasn't often she had such outbursts. But they were usually well warranted. "Broke into the house? And what about Arizona? She fought!?"
"Mutsu, calm down. I assure you we'd be having a very different conversation if Arizona hadn't come home." Richardson cast a hard gaze through the LCD screen. "And her lack of operational discipline has already been brought to her attention by Hiei. She would have died out there if it hadn't been for Albacore. With no kills to her name and coming back with critical damage, Arizona had probably the worst debut in shipgirl history. It was her maiden battle too."
Nagato remained silent as she absorbed the information offered. No doubt she would have received the official report in some capacity down the line, but hearing about a battle in such a candid scenario was always somewhat unnerving.
"I... Oh my... How is she?" Mutsu forced herself to calm down. What was done was done and there was no use blowing her third turret sky high.
"She's in good shape all things considered. It's hard to tell she was even damaged at all with how she carries herself." Richardson leaned back in his chair and relaxed his expression. "Hiei came back with a few scratches and Albie didn't even chip her paint. Jintsuu was running damage control at home with Jane, so she didn't participate in the battle."
"That's a relief." She placed an hand to her breast and took a deep breath to drive off any remaining nerves. Everyone was home, safe and sound. That's what mattered most to her.
"Admiral, I think it would be best if Tenryuu was provided with an advance warning. It would rather she find out long in advance of any possible meeting." Nagato interrupted the drama with a little of her own. Even if the two ships never actually met, it was far better to be safe than sorry. The same would be done if Taihou ever graced the fleet with her presence.
"Tenryuu's under Goto's direct command, not mine. And you know your fleet a hell of a lot better than I do. If you think that's the best course of action then I'm not about to stop you." Richardson might offer a suggestion or two if the situation called for it. However if there was nothing to be gained, then he wasn't going to start sticking his fingers where they didn't belong. Goto's fleet was one such place.
"Thank you sir." Nagato cleared her throat and motioned to Mutsu, who was looking more and more like she wanted to say something. "But I think we have put off Mutsu's report long enough. She performed quite well against the Northern Princess if I might say. Perhaps even deserving of a... reward~"
Mutsu's head turned so quickly, one could almost hear a gearbox ping in agony. Her gaping expression and rapidly reddening cheeks a clear sign that she was having trouble processing what her stoic, all business and formality before the Admiralty sister had just said. What Battleship Nagato had just implied.
Even Richardson seemed taken aback for a moment before he gave up and began laughing like a madman.
"It is harder that I thought to pull that off."
"N-N-Nagato-nee!?"
* * * * *
Omake: Eurobotes
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
In other news, more Eurobotes! And this one ran away from me...to say the least. 3.5k words? I'm not quite sure how I pulled that one off, TBH. But, we have our first Swedes here. And more of Dreadnought, for that matter.
EDIT: Well, this is awkward timing now.
Hm hm hm hm hmhmhmhmhm
"..."
HMS, not that bastardized HSwMS nonsense, Malmö sighed. Her eye twitched. She bit her lip. She ran a hand through her mid-back length red hair. The destroyer did basically everything but look in the direction of her humming sister. After all.
She knew that Karlskrona was doing this to annoy her. God forbid someone in the Swedish Navy be a proper sailor. You would think it was against the rules or something. Lord only knew how much it annoyed her. Here she was trying to keep her sisters in line and be proper warships, and they kept goofing off! Sometimes, she wondered why she tried. Especially since big sister Göteborg was just lazily sipping tea back in Stockholm!
They were destroyers, damn it, and they didn't play the part!
"You need to relax sis," Gävle, the youngest of the sisters in the little formation, spoke up. Her tiny voice barely carried over the sound of waves and the annoying freaking humming of Karlskrona. Malmö turned to look at her sister, the equally tiny girl staring at her with bright green eyes under brown hair.
"I'll relax, when someone starts acting like a proper sailor!" Malmö crossed her arms over her non-existent bust, sticking her nose in the air.
"Naaaahhh," of course, Karl just smirked at her sister, before returning to her humming. "Hm hmhmhmhm."
Malmö's eye twitched again, as she resisted the urge to turn her turret at her sister, "That's not even a navy song, goddamn it!"
"But it is Swedish. And about our glorious military!" Karl countered, purple eyes staring out from under a mop of blonde hair. The destroyer grinned cheekily, puffy little cheeks spread out by it.
Only for Malmö to finally snap. Red eyes glared at her sister, as the destroyer stomped her foot into the water. Thanks to the strange physics of their new form, she didn't promptly go under the water. But the point was made, at least.
"It's about the Army!" The redhead threw her hands up in the air, honestly wondering what it was about the middle sister in the group. "We're Navy!"
Karl tilted her head like a puppy, the fact she looked barely older than twelve-years old not helping the image. "We're not American though, so why should that matter?"
The eldest sister let out an incoherent noise of frustration, before spinning on her heel. If her sister wanted to be difficult, fine. But she wasn't going to give a bad first impression to their allies. As strange as the concept of having allies was, to the Swedish girl. For her entire, lengthy, service career Sweden was neutral. No allies, no enemies other than the Red Menace. There hadn't even been any war service to speak of, beyond neutrality patrols. But then...
That was why she was here, wasn't it?
Unlike her sisters, Malmö fully acknowledged that she needed to improve herself. And that meant going to the only experts they had, the British Royal Navy. And she was not going to give a bad impression on them!
Wait.
Even as that thought went through her head, Malmö twitched.
"Is that a..." The redhead blinked slowly, as her eyes locked on the ships approaching in the distance.
Even Karl had stopped with her humming, as the Swedish girls closed ranks. They may lack in practical war experience, but they had plenty of theoretical and practice maneuvers to call on. Malmö moved to the center as the commander. Karl took up the forward position. And Gävle took up the rear. It worked, or so the eldest sister present hoped.
"A battleship," Karl spoke up as they finished moving, raising a blonde eyebrow. She looked back at Malmö, confusion clear in her purple eyes. "An antique!"
"And Sverige isn't?" Malmö shot back, making her sister flush. The flagship of the Swedish ship girls was hardly what one would call 'new' either. "Why would the British send out a battleship though...?"
"Abyssal surface forces?" Little Gävle suggested, her voice very small.
The eldest sister twitched at the thought, feeling a drop of sweat run down her face. Her boilers picked up in tempo at the thought, even as she started scanning the area. Not frantically scanning of course! But still...
Needless to say, the three sisters were hardly equipped to deal with surface forces. Three 120mm guns and six torpedoes, did not a powerful destroyer make. Malmö worried that they wouldn't win a fight. She wanted to be a sailor, but she didn't want to die doing it...
As the redhead worried, Karl flinched. Before holding a hand up to her head, disbelieving eyes staring out at the battleship. At least, until she turned around and stared at her sisters instead. Confusion was clear in her expression, making Malmö frown.
"That battleship is sending a message sis," Karl spoke, her voice just as full of confusion as her expression. "She's Dreadnought."
Malmö blinked slowly, looking at the battleship creeping closer at a stately ten knots. "Why would they..."
"Ah, there they are," Dreadnought looked in the distance, a small smile crossing her face. The battleship sailed along at her usual cruising speed, only a slight breeze blowing back her grey-streaked black hair. She reached up a hand to push back her bangs, hand brushing against the small silver star pin holding it in place. "Come along girls, I don't want to keep our guests waiting."
"Yes ma'am!" Her little escort chorused, slowly picking up speed.
Dreadnought couldn't help but smile at the excitable little destroyers. They were an eclectic mix to say the least. Kingston, short brown hair framing a freckled face as she practically hopped along by her side. Icarus was next in line, her curly red hair atop a head with sharp and elegant cheekbones. Of course, she was more noticeable for the fact she wore a winged cap, something that had Dreadnought giggle on occasion. Oh, some of the younger ships were so...eccentric. Her grey eyes trailed over the next destroyer in line though, was less eccentric.
HMS Fame. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back, shimmering in ringlets fitting of a model. The little girl, though, just sent a long-suffering smile at the battleship. Her long, fashionable red dress, flowed around her legs as the girl shrugged puffy shoulders.
"How many are we meeting?" Fame asked, her voice almost musical in tone.
"Three, I think," the last destroyer in the group, Douglas, shrugged. As the oldest of the destroyers, she sailed at the rear of the formation. The old squadron leader wasn't quite as old as Dreadnought, but she was certainly older than the other destroyers.
Something that Dreadnought could tell, when she looked over her shoulder. Douglas gave her a weary smile, though there was a certain fondness to it when the black-haired flotilla leader looked at the younger destroyers. Where her counterparts were closer to young teenagers, Douglas was more...more...like a girl, in the flower of her life. Perhaps eighteen? The flotilla leader wore a light brown tunic and long pants, fitting of the officer she was.
I am glad to have her. These girls are sometimes a handful.
Smiling at the thought, Dreadnought gently tuned down her old boilers. The wake in front of her gradually lessened, as her legs stopped pushing her forward. The old battleship felt the kiss of wind on her face, as she slowly ground to a halt in front of the Swedish girls. Three little destroyers, smaller than any of her escort. Their leader, a tiny little redhead, held up her hand in a shaking salute.
Dreadnought smiled gently, as she returned the salute. "Good to meet you...Malmö, correct?"
The little redhead nodded rapidly, "Yes."
"Good. That would make you Karlskrona..." Dreadnought nodded at the blonde destroyer, getting a nod in return. Smile widening, the old battleship turned to the youngest looking destroyer she had ever seen. Though, it may just be that she was tiny for her age. But the last girl... "Gävle, then?"
She barely went up to her hip, and Dreadnought was far from the tallest battleship around.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Dreadnought," the little girl gave her an equally tiny smile, as she brushed down wrinkles in her adorable dress.
Come to think of it, all of the destroyers wore the same dress. Only differing in color, and in small details. Malmö wore a red dress, with a slit cut down her left leg, where her torpedoes were mounted. Karlskrona reversed it, a purple dress with a slit on her right leg. Gävle, she merely wore her torpedoes on the outside of her blue dress. Dreadnought just found it quite cute. Her own escorts wore an eclectic mix of uniforms, but nothing quite this adorable.
"Um..." Malmö spoke up hesitantly, drawing the battleship's attention back to her. The redhead shuffled for a second, before straightening out her back. She puffed out her small chest, making Dreadnought hold back a light giggle. The little destroyer was trying to look professional, bless her. "If I may ask, why are you here, ma'am?"
Her accent was a bit thick, but Dreadnought understood her well enough. The battleship opened her mouth to reply even, but was beaten to the punch.
"Because she's the only battleship to sink a submarine!" Icarus gushed, looking up at Dreadnought with shining eyes. The battleship just shook her head, an amused chuckle rumbling from her chest.
"A..." For her part, Malmö just...froze. Her jaw dropped open, wide eyes staring at Dreadnought as she hunched forward.
Oh dear.
What had Commander Richards called this...it was something to do with the fancy 'computers' everyone had. And a color...ah! Blue-screened! That was what looked like had happened. The poor little Swede had blue-screened in shock, staring at Dreadnought as her younger sister Karlskrona poked her with a dry look on her face. Little Gävle stepped forward though, her feet leaving small wakes behind her, as the destroyer pulled up alongside the much larger battleship.
"Miss Dreadnought, did you really sink a submarine?" Gävle asked, awe clear in her voice. And her eyes, wide and shining.
Dreadnought merely held a hand to her mouth, giggling softly behind it. The old battleship shook her head, hair swaying around her face as she lowered her hand. She looked at the stunned lead destroyer, before turning back to Gävle and answering the girl's question. "Yes, I have. But, what dear little Icarus over here neglected to mention is that U-29 was on the surface, which allowed me to ram her."
"And cut her in half!" Icarus countered, looking like she wanted to jump up and hug the battleship. Oh dear. "It's so cool!"
"Yes dear," Dreadnought just patted the girl on her head, Icarus frowning as she adjusted her feathered cap. Dreadnought smiled, before she turned back to Malmö. Who had finally shaken her head, though she still looked stunned at what she had heard. "At any rate, I am here because I...am old. Frontline combat has come and gone for me, I'm afraid. But I can help teach the younger girls, and that is what I intend to do."
"Train us?" Karlskrona asked, tilting her head in confusion. "I knew we were coming to train, but out here?"
"Yes." The old battleship nodded, before a small grin crossed her face. "In fact, training begins...now."
Thoroughly stunned or not, Malmö quickly dropped into combat readiness. She saw Dreadnought back up out of the corner of her eye, the old battleship's elegant grey dress swishing around her legs as she did so. But she barely paid that any mind, as smoke belched from her stack and those of her sisters. For all that Karl annoyed her and Gävle was young, they were quick to get back in formation. The British destroyers did the same, save for the one with long blonde hair. She sailed up to the Swedes, and joined their formation.
Malmö raised an eyebrow at that, even as her eyes frantically scanned while her crew worked her sonar. The sound of all the ships moving messed with her, but she had a good fairy on the system. Best the Swedish Navy could offer, in fact!
"HMS Fame," the Brit bowed slightly, a small smile on her face, as she came back up. Blue eyes looked at the Swedish girl, before turning to the water. "We are here to help you, but we won't do the job for you I'm afraid. How much do you know about ASW warfare?"
"How to operate in the Baltic. On occasion, we had to chase off Soviet spy submarines, during the Cold War." Malmö frowned lightly, as her sonar pinged...something. It was quickly lost though, as her sisters sent her wary looks. Turning back to Fame, the Swedish destroyer sighed softly. "Actual combat...never. That's why we're here!"
Fame nodded in response, reaching a hand down to pick up a depth charge. The British girl held it out to Malmö, who looked at it like it would bite her. Big sister Göteborg had nearly been destroyed by her own charges...
If the Brit noted what she felt, she didn't comment on it though. Fame just pulled her hand back with a light flush, before nodding at the water they stood on. Somewhere down there, was the contact that Malmö had picked up on. The only question, then, was where exactly. And Malmö hadn't the slightest idea. As the rough waves of the North Sea washed around her legs, soaking them and kicking salt into the air, she worried.
I don't like this...
"The key to anti-sub warfare is patience," Fame finally spoke again, brushing back a ringlet of blonde hair. "Remember, we can outlast them. We don't even need to sink the sub, to ruin their attack run. Abyssals are no different than anyone else in that regard, even if they are horrible to fight. Since submarines are the main enemies we fight, we have to know how to deal with them though."
Karl frowned, "We haven't seen any in the Baltic."
Fame shook her head, a small smile crossing her face. The blonde looked out at the water again, before pointing at a seemingly random spot. "The Abyssals in the Atlantic are mimicking the Germans, I'm afraid. Submarines are the most numerous enemy we have, and they are persistent. That is why you must be patient with them. A submarine that is dodging an escort, is a submarine that can't attack. Remember that. They can't stay underwater forever, and they will either leave to surface away from the escort, or come up in our midst and then..."
"Blow them away!" Karl punched a fist into her open hand, a sharp look in her violet eyes. Malmö just sighed, but nodded as well. Gävle merely watched the water intently.
"Exactly," Fame nodded, before pulling back slightly. "Now, find our friend. Don't drop charges on her, if you please, though. I'm fairly certain you aren't loaded with practice rounds, and Trident doesn't appreciate being depth charged."
Malmö frowned, "Then how will we..."
"If you get above her, she will surface. We'll do more proper training, when you have practice rounds."
With that said, Fame pulled back completely. Malmö sighed softly, but squared her shoulders. A proper soldier didn't complain about training. She needed to know how to sub hunt better, and that was why she was here. So time to get to it! The redhead sent a nod to both her sisters, the three dropping into their typical formation. They had used it back in the Baltic, and while they had yet to see actual combat, it should work.
I hope.
Eyes focused on the water, Malmö tapped the side of her head, listening to the little shouts of her fairy crew.
"Screws, twenty to starboard." The redhead reported, looking back at her siblings.
Karl nodded, "Confirm."
The last sister didn't say anything, but Gävle did pull forward. Blonde eyebrows were knit together tightly, as she bit her lip. It almost looked like a pout...okay, her sister was adorable.
Focus!
Pushing that thought aside, Malmö tapped her hip, resisting the urge to roll her limited depth charges over the side. It felt wrong to not do it, but orders were order. They just needed to get above the sub, right? So, simple enough. Malmö turned slightly to starboard, her hair slapping her in the face, as she set out. Her eyes scanned the water warily, looking for even the slightest sight of a wake from a periscope.
Where was that sub?
Why was she hiding so well?
The Swedish girl bit her lip herself, mimicking her little sister, as she pushed more power into her screws. Best to not get caught with her pants down, as the Americans would say, eh?
"Torpedoes!"
Oh of course!
"Hard to port!" Malmö barked out, hoping her voice didn't shake as she spun around as fast as she could turn. The wakes of the torpedoes were clear in the water, as they scythed through. Metal glinted slightly under the rough waves, one of the torps broaching as they shot at her and her sisters.
There were ten of the damn things!
"We're going to make it!" Karl shouted over the sound of their legs pumping at full speed, engines pushing out every bit of speed the Swedes could manage. The blonde grinned at her sister, brushing her hair from her face. "They won't catch us like that!"
"It doesn't matter if we don't catch them..." Gävle whispered, the littlest sister frowning. Before she shook her head, breaking formation.
Malmö balked at that, even as she saw a torpedo spin right past her leg. That had nearly hit her...what were the Brits thinking?! And for that matter, what was her sister thinking?!
"Gävle! Get back in formation!" Malmö didn't panic, even as she saw the British destroyers giving her sister an appraising look. What was she doing? "We don't know if they can shoot again yet!"
Her little sister just shook her head, not turning her eyes from the water. Until she came to a sudden halt, squealing in shock. Malmö dropped everything at that, pushing herself to her sister, eyes wide as her hair spun out behind her in a red wave.
Sis!
Only for her sister to start giggling, as what quickly revealed itself to be a hand, tickled at her bare leg. Malmö nearly fell into the water in shock, as she saw a...a girl in a form-fitting swimsuit pull herself out of the water. The dark-red one piece hugged the girls impressive curves, her wide hips and large breasts cascading with water, as she fully came out of the water. A small little periscope was mounted to a headband across her short black hair, as the girl let go of Gävle, and turned to Malmö instead.
And promptly gave off a jaunty salute, tugging her swimsuit even tighter across her bust.
"Trident, nice to meet ya," she drawled in an accent that Malmö didn't recognize. "Your little sis here caught me, that she did."
Gävle flushed, shuffling in embarrassment, "You caught me..."
Trident shook her head, patting the little girl on the shoulder, seemingly unworried about being so close to a destroyer, her natural enemy. But then, the Brits were crazy!
"Nah, ya caught me missy. Aye, if ya had actually been trying to hunt me, I'd be the one in trouble. Still, sharp eyes, I have to admit." The submarine turned to look at Malmö, smiling cockily. The sub held out her hand, clearly offering to shake it. Malmö hesitantly took it, like it would bite her. "That said, I wasn't playing serious. You three are good, but ya need a lot of training to be on our level. Hope you're looking forward to it!"
And HMS Malmö felt a chill roll down her spine, at the blinding grin the submarine flashed her.
Yes, I used the Swedish version of that song. 'cause...Swedes.
Also, I imagine the T-class are both curvy and busty. Considering their hull form
And how many torps they carry. So...yeah. Some of the T-boats are probably rivaling Iku and Hachi.
EDIT: Well, this is awkward timing now.
BB Europe: Sub Hunting for Dummies
Hm hm hm hm hmhmhmhmhm
"..."
HMS, not that bastardized HSwMS nonsense, Malmö sighed. Her eye twitched. She bit her lip. She ran a hand through her mid-back length red hair. The destroyer did basically everything but look in the direction of her humming sister. After all.
She knew that Karlskrona was doing this to annoy her. God forbid someone in the Swedish Navy be a proper sailor. You would think it was against the rules or something. Lord only knew how much it annoyed her. Here she was trying to keep her sisters in line and be proper warships, and they kept goofing off! Sometimes, she wondered why she tried. Especially since big sister Göteborg was just lazily sipping tea back in Stockholm!
They were destroyers, damn it, and they didn't play the part!
"You need to relax sis," Gävle, the youngest of the sisters in the little formation, spoke up. Her tiny voice barely carried over the sound of waves and the annoying freaking humming of Karlskrona. Malmö turned to look at her sister, the equally tiny girl staring at her with bright green eyes under brown hair.
"I'll relax, when someone starts acting like a proper sailor!" Malmö crossed her arms over her non-existent bust, sticking her nose in the air.
"Naaaahhh," of course, Karl just smirked at her sister, before returning to her humming. "Hm hmhmhmhm."
Malmö's eye twitched again, as she resisted the urge to turn her turret at her sister, "That's not even a navy song, goddamn it!"
"But it is Swedish. And about our glorious military!" Karl countered, purple eyes staring out from under a mop of blonde hair. The destroyer grinned cheekily, puffy little cheeks spread out by it.
Only for Malmö to finally snap. Red eyes glared at her sister, as the destroyer stomped her foot into the water. Thanks to the strange physics of their new form, she didn't promptly go under the water. But the point was made, at least.
"It's about the Army!" The redhead threw her hands up in the air, honestly wondering what it was about the middle sister in the group. "We're Navy!"
Karl tilted her head like a puppy, the fact she looked barely older than twelve-years old not helping the image. "We're not American though, so why should that matter?"
The eldest sister let out an incoherent noise of frustration, before spinning on her heel. If her sister wanted to be difficult, fine. But she wasn't going to give a bad first impression to their allies. As strange as the concept of having allies was, to the Swedish girl. For her entire, lengthy, service career Sweden was neutral. No allies, no enemies other than the Red Menace. There hadn't even been any war service to speak of, beyond neutrality patrols. But then...
That was why she was here, wasn't it?
Unlike her sisters, Malmö fully acknowledged that she needed to improve herself. And that meant going to the only experts they had, the British Royal Navy. And she was not going to give a bad impression on them!
Wait.
Even as that thought went through her head, Malmö twitched.
"Is that a..." The redhead blinked slowly, as her eyes locked on the ships approaching in the distance.
Even Karl had stopped with her humming, as the Swedish girls closed ranks. They may lack in practical war experience, but they had plenty of theoretical and practice maneuvers to call on. Malmö moved to the center as the commander. Karl took up the forward position. And Gävle took up the rear. It worked, or so the eldest sister present hoped.
"A battleship," Karl spoke up as they finished moving, raising a blonde eyebrow. She looked back at Malmö, confusion clear in her purple eyes. "An antique!"
"And Sverige isn't?" Malmö shot back, making her sister flush. The flagship of the Swedish ship girls was hardly what one would call 'new' either. "Why would the British send out a battleship though...?"
"Abyssal surface forces?" Little Gävle suggested, her voice very small.
The eldest sister twitched at the thought, feeling a drop of sweat run down her face. Her boilers picked up in tempo at the thought, even as she started scanning the area. Not frantically scanning of course! But still...
Needless to say, the three sisters were hardly equipped to deal with surface forces. Three 120mm guns and six torpedoes, did not a powerful destroyer make. Malmö worried that they wouldn't win a fight. She wanted to be a sailor, but she didn't want to die doing it...
As the redhead worried, Karl flinched. Before holding a hand up to her head, disbelieving eyes staring out at the battleship. At least, until she turned around and stared at her sisters instead. Confusion was clear in her expression, making Malmö frown.
"That battleship is sending a message sis," Karl spoke, her voice just as full of confusion as her expression. "She's Dreadnought."
Malmö blinked slowly, looking at the battleship creeping closer at a stately ten knots. "Why would they..."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Ah, there they are," Dreadnought looked in the distance, a small smile crossing her face. The battleship sailed along at her usual cruising speed, only a slight breeze blowing back her grey-streaked black hair. She reached up a hand to push back her bangs, hand brushing against the small silver star pin holding it in place. "Come along girls, I don't want to keep our guests waiting."
"Yes ma'am!" Her little escort chorused, slowly picking up speed.
Dreadnought couldn't help but smile at the excitable little destroyers. They were an eclectic mix to say the least. Kingston, short brown hair framing a freckled face as she practically hopped along by her side. Icarus was next in line, her curly red hair atop a head with sharp and elegant cheekbones. Of course, she was more noticeable for the fact she wore a winged cap, something that had Dreadnought giggle on occasion. Oh, some of the younger ships were so...eccentric. Her grey eyes trailed over the next destroyer in line though, was less eccentric.
HMS Fame. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back, shimmering in ringlets fitting of a model. The little girl, though, just sent a long-suffering smile at the battleship. Her long, fashionable red dress, flowed around her legs as the girl shrugged puffy shoulders.
"How many are we meeting?" Fame asked, her voice almost musical in tone.
"Three, I think," the last destroyer in the group, Douglas, shrugged. As the oldest of the destroyers, she sailed at the rear of the formation. The old squadron leader wasn't quite as old as Dreadnought, but she was certainly older than the other destroyers.
Something that Dreadnought could tell, when she looked over her shoulder. Douglas gave her a weary smile, though there was a certain fondness to it when the black-haired flotilla leader looked at the younger destroyers. Where her counterparts were closer to young teenagers, Douglas was more...more...like a girl, in the flower of her life. Perhaps eighteen? The flotilla leader wore a light brown tunic and long pants, fitting of the officer she was.
I am glad to have her. These girls are sometimes a handful.
Smiling at the thought, Dreadnought gently tuned down her old boilers. The wake in front of her gradually lessened, as her legs stopped pushing her forward. The old battleship felt the kiss of wind on her face, as she slowly ground to a halt in front of the Swedish girls. Three little destroyers, smaller than any of her escort. Their leader, a tiny little redhead, held up her hand in a shaking salute.
Dreadnought smiled gently, as she returned the salute. "Good to meet you...Malmö, correct?"
The little redhead nodded rapidly, "Yes."
"Good. That would make you Karlskrona..." Dreadnought nodded at the blonde destroyer, getting a nod in return. Smile widening, the old battleship turned to the youngest looking destroyer she had ever seen. Though, it may just be that she was tiny for her age. But the last girl... "Gävle, then?"
She barely went up to her hip, and Dreadnought was far from the tallest battleship around.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Dreadnought," the little girl gave her an equally tiny smile, as she brushed down wrinkles in her adorable dress.
Come to think of it, all of the destroyers wore the same dress. Only differing in color, and in small details. Malmö wore a red dress, with a slit cut down her left leg, where her torpedoes were mounted. Karlskrona reversed it, a purple dress with a slit on her right leg. Gävle, she merely wore her torpedoes on the outside of her blue dress. Dreadnought just found it quite cute. Her own escorts wore an eclectic mix of uniforms, but nothing quite this adorable.
"Um..." Malmö spoke up hesitantly, drawing the battleship's attention back to her. The redhead shuffled for a second, before straightening out her back. She puffed out her small chest, making Dreadnought hold back a light giggle. The little destroyer was trying to look professional, bless her. "If I may ask, why are you here, ma'am?"
Her accent was a bit thick, but Dreadnought understood her well enough. The battleship opened her mouth to reply even, but was beaten to the punch.
"Because she's the only battleship to sink a submarine!" Icarus gushed, looking up at Dreadnought with shining eyes. The battleship just shook her head, an amused chuckle rumbling from her chest.
"A..." For her part, Malmö just...froze. Her jaw dropped open, wide eyes staring at Dreadnought as she hunched forward.
Oh dear.
What had Commander Richards called this...it was something to do with the fancy 'computers' everyone had. And a color...ah! Blue-screened! That was what looked like had happened. The poor little Swede had blue-screened in shock, staring at Dreadnought as her younger sister Karlskrona poked her with a dry look on her face. Little Gävle stepped forward though, her feet leaving small wakes behind her, as the destroyer pulled up alongside the much larger battleship.
"Miss Dreadnought, did you really sink a submarine?" Gävle asked, awe clear in her voice. And her eyes, wide and shining.
Dreadnought merely held a hand to her mouth, giggling softly behind it. The old battleship shook her head, hair swaying around her face as she lowered her hand. She looked at the stunned lead destroyer, before turning back to Gävle and answering the girl's question. "Yes, I have. But, what dear little Icarus over here neglected to mention is that U-29 was on the surface, which allowed me to ram her."
"And cut her in half!" Icarus countered, looking like she wanted to jump up and hug the battleship. Oh dear. "It's so cool!"
"Yes dear," Dreadnought just patted the girl on her head, Icarus frowning as she adjusted her feathered cap. Dreadnought smiled, before she turned back to Malmö. Who had finally shaken her head, though she still looked stunned at what she had heard. "At any rate, I am here because I...am old. Frontline combat has come and gone for me, I'm afraid. But I can help teach the younger girls, and that is what I intend to do."
"Train us?" Karlskrona asked, tilting her head in confusion. "I knew we were coming to train, but out here?"
"Yes." The old battleship nodded, before a small grin crossed her face. "In fact, training begins...now."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Thoroughly stunned or not, Malmö quickly dropped into combat readiness. She saw Dreadnought back up out of the corner of her eye, the old battleship's elegant grey dress swishing around her legs as she did so. But she barely paid that any mind, as smoke belched from her stack and those of her sisters. For all that Karl annoyed her and Gävle was young, they were quick to get back in formation. The British destroyers did the same, save for the one with long blonde hair. She sailed up to the Swedes, and joined their formation.
Malmö raised an eyebrow at that, even as her eyes frantically scanned while her crew worked her sonar. The sound of all the ships moving messed with her, but she had a good fairy on the system. Best the Swedish Navy could offer, in fact!
"HMS Fame," the Brit bowed slightly, a small smile on her face, as she came back up. Blue eyes looked at the Swedish girl, before turning to the water. "We are here to help you, but we won't do the job for you I'm afraid. How much do you know about ASW warfare?"
"How to operate in the Baltic. On occasion, we had to chase off Soviet spy submarines, during the Cold War." Malmö frowned lightly, as her sonar pinged...something. It was quickly lost though, as her sisters sent her wary looks. Turning back to Fame, the Swedish destroyer sighed softly. "Actual combat...never. That's why we're here!"
Fame nodded in response, reaching a hand down to pick up a depth charge. The British girl held it out to Malmö, who looked at it like it would bite her. Big sister Göteborg had nearly been destroyed by her own charges...
If the Brit noted what she felt, she didn't comment on it though. Fame just pulled her hand back with a light flush, before nodding at the water they stood on. Somewhere down there, was the contact that Malmö had picked up on. The only question, then, was where exactly. And Malmö hadn't the slightest idea. As the rough waves of the North Sea washed around her legs, soaking them and kicking salt into the air, she worried.
I don't like this...
"The key to anti-sub warfare is patience," Fame finally spoke again, brushing back a ringlet of blonde hair. "Remember, we can outlast them. We don't even need to sink the sub, to ruin their attack run. Abyssals are no different than anyone else in that regard, even if they are horrible to fight. Since submarines are the main enemies we fight, we have to know how to deal with them though."
Karl frowned, "We haven't seen any in the Baltic."
Fame shook her head, a small smile crossing her face. The blonde looked out at the water again, before pointing at a seemingly random spot. "The Abyssals in the Atlantic are mimicking the Germans, I'm afraid. Submarines are the most numerous enemy we have, and they are persistent. That is why you must be patient with them. A submarine that is dodging an escort, is a submarine that can't attack. Remember that. They can't stay underwater forever, and they will either leave to surface away from the escort, or come up in our midst and then..."
"Blow them away!" Karl punched a fist into her open hand, a sharp look in her violet eyes. Malmö just sighed, but nodded as well. Gävle merely watched the water intently.
"Exactly," Fame nodded, before pulling back slightly. "Now, find our friend. Don't drop charges on her, if you please, though. I'm fairly certain you aren't loaded with practice rounds, and Trident doesn't appreciate being depth charged."
Malmö frowned, "Then how will we..."
"If you get above her, she will surface. We'll do more proper training, when you have practice rounds."
With that said, Fame pulled back completely. Malmö sighed softly, but squared her shoulders. A proper soldier didn't complain about training. She needed to know how to sub hunt better, and that was why she was here. So time to get to it! The redhead sent a nod to both her sisters, the three dropping into their typical formation. They had used it back in the Baltic, and while they had yet to see actual combat, it should work.
I hope.
Eyes focused on the water, Malmö tapped the side of her head, listening to the little shouts of her fairy crew.
"Screws, twenty to starboard." The redhead reported, looking back at her siblings.
Karl nodded, "Confirm."
The last sister didn't say anything, but Gävle did pull forward. Blonde eyebrows were knit together tightly, as she bit her lip. It almost looked like a pout...okay, her sister was adorable.
Focus!
Pushing that thought aside, Malmö tapped her hip, resisting the urge to roll her limited depth charges over the side. It felt wrong to not do it, but orders were order. They just needed to get above the sub, right? So, simple enough. Malmö turned slightly to starboard, her hair slapping her in the face, as she set out. Her eyes scanned the water warily, looking for even the slightest sight of a wake from a periscope.
Where was that sub?
Why was she hiding so well?
The Swedish girl bit her lip herself, mimicking her little sister, as she pushed more power into her screws. Best to not get caught with her pants down, as the Americans would say, eh?
"Torpedoes!"
Oh of course!
"Hard to port!" Malmö barked out, hoping her voice didn't shake as she spun around as fast as she could turn. The wakes of the torpedoes were clear in the water, as they scythed through. Metal glinted slightly under the rough waves, one of the torps broaching as they shot at her and her sisters.
There were ten of the damn things!
"We're going to make it!" Karl shouted over the sound of their legs pumping at full speed, engines pushing out every bit of speed the Swedes could manage. The blonde grinned at her sister, brushing her hair from her face. "They won't catch us like that!"
"It doesn't matter if we don't catch them..." Gävle whispered, the littlest sister frowning. Before she shook her head, breaking formation.
Malmö balked at that, even as she saw a torpedo spin right past her leg. That had nearly hit her...what were the Brits thinking?! And for that matter, what was her sister thinking?!
"Gävle! Get back in formation!" Malmö didn't panic, even as she saw the British destroyers giving her sister an appraising look. What was she doing? "We don't know if they can shoot again yet!"
Her little sister just shook her head, not turning her eyes from the water. Until she came to a sudden halt, squealing in shock. Malmö dropped everything at that, pushing herself to her sister, eyes wide as her hair spun out behind her in a red wave.
Sis!
Only for her sister to start giggling, as what quickly revealed itself to be a hand, tickled at her bare leg. Malmö nearly fell into the water in shock, as she saw a...a girl in a form-fitting swimsuit pull herself out of the water. The dark-red one piece hugged the girls impressive curves, her wide hips and large breasts cascading with water, as she fully came out of the water. A small little periscope was mounted to a headband across her short black hair, as the girl let go of Gävle, and turned to Malmö instead.
And promptly gave off a jaunty salute, tugging her swimsuit even tighter across her bust.
"Trident, nice to meet ya," she drawled in an accent that Malmö didn't recognize. "Your little sis here caught me, that she did."
Gävle flushed, shuffling in embarrassment, "You caught me..."
Trident shook her head, patting the little girl on the shoulder, seemingly unworried about being so close to a destroyer, her natural enemy. But then, the Brits were crazy!
"Nah, ya caught me missy. Aye, if ya had actually been trying to hunt me, I'd be the one in trouble. Still, sharp eyes, I have to admit." The submarine turned to look at Malmö, smiling cockily. The sub held out her hand, clearly offering to shake it. Malmö hesitantly took it, like it would bite her. "That said, I wasn't playing serious. You three are good, but ya need a lot of training to be on our level. Hope you're looking forward to it!"
And HMS Malmö felt a chill roll down her spine, at the blinding grin the submarine flashed her.
Yes, I used the Swedish version of that song. 'cause...Swedes.
Also, I imagine the T-class are both curvy and busty. Considering their hull form
And how many torps they carry. So...yeah. Some of the T-boats are probably rivaling Iku and Hachi.
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Awkward timing or no, that was a fun read.
You're really filling out the ranks in Europe. Egads man. But yeah, keep up the good work. Lots of new ships showing up and destroyers no less. I do feel for Malmö though. Poor lass seems high strung enough without such a laid back comrade to deal with.
Actually, Dreadnought's described sub kill makes me think she ought to be carrying around an arming sword of some sort. Kinda like how Borie has the knife. And nice design choice for Trident. I can definitely see how you came up with that.
You're really filling out the ranks in Europe. Egads man. But yeah, keep up the good work. Lots of new ships showing up and destroyers no less. I do feel for Malmö though. Poor lass seems high strung enough without such a laid back comrade to deal with.
Actually, Dreadnought's described sub kill makes me think she ought to be carrying around an arming sword of some sort. Kinda like how Borie has the knife. And nice design choice for Trident. I can definitely see how you came up with that.
- Location
- 'Murica
Nice work, as always! Dreadnought's always a treat to see, and those little DDs were just... adorable. Also Trident is curviest submarine. Though apparently not that lewd.
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
Awkward timing or no, that was a fun read.
You're really filling out the ranks in Europe. Egads man. But yeah, keep up the good work. Lots of new ships showing up and destroyers no less. I do feel for Malmö though. Poor lass seems high strung enough without such a laid back comrade to deal with.
Actually, Dreadnought's described sub kill makes me think she ought to be carrying around an arming sword of some sort. Kinda like how Borie has the knife. And nice design choice for Trident. I can definitely see how you came up with that.
Funnily enough, I wasn't aiming for 'high-strung' with Malmö. More 'local equivalent to Elephant Lady'. Except, she's not as moe as Akatsuki, and is more concerned with being a proper soldier than a proper lady. Maybe a Lady of War...
Don't let her meet Wash.
...though.
As for the ranks of the Europeans, I do have five navies to play with. In descending order of ships summoned: Britain, Italy, Sweden, Turkey, Greece. Be thankful I'm not going with the French and that Ze Germans are still off limits.
As for Trident, my first thought when I think of 'T-boat' is curvy. I mean, look at her!
Dreadnought's fun to write, to be honest. Haven't done enough with her.
- Location
- 'Murica
I wonder what the Lewdmarines would think of her.
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Grope her in the baths, obviously.
Selonianth
Writer of Words
I was honestly imagining Nagato fussing with her tongue as she mused that last line, which I can only assume referred to pronouncing the tilde.
Duckies are for Bullying
- Location
- 'Murica
In his long career in the United States Army Nurse Corps, Major Solette had experienced many many ways to get unexpectedly jolted from the calming warmness that was his bed. Many of them involved second lieutenants with faces whiter than sheets frantically explaining the trouble they'd managed to get themselves into. That, or the trouble some ham-headed doctor blundered into by not following clear goddamn instructions. And there were always the ever-amusing superglue incidents.
But he'd more than doubled the list in the few months he spent working with shipgirls. The girls' unique biology—if you could even call it that—allowed for, as Akashi like to put it, "New and more interesting ways of hurting yourself." From well-meaning but unthinking doctors trying to put several thousands tons of steel war machine though an MRI, to patching destroyers after they ran their little turbines too hard, to… well just about anything Tenryuu got dared into doing, the stories were as endless as they were insane.
Luckily, however, shipgirls had brought a few things with them. And one that was quickly becoming the Major's favorite was a sudden arrival by the coffee fairy.
"Good morning, nanodesu," Inazuma offered a shy smile from underneath the comically large carafe she held balanced on her little head. "Coffee, Solette-san?"
"G'mornin Inazuma," Solette smiled at the girl as he lazily rolled out of bed. His blouse was still hanging against the wall—he hadn't gotten around to cleaning the syrup off it after the Taffies' little accident—but the rest of his uniform was just a few shuffling steps away. If the little destroyer minded seeing him in boxers, she didn't show it. "What uh," Solette stifled a yawn as he pulled on his rumpled fatigues, "What time is it?"
"Oh-five-hundred, nanodesu." The third-generation special-type slowly pivoted to face Solette, her enormous coffee-laden hat gliding like a battleship's turret.
Solette grunted as he fumbled for his boots. "Oh-five?"
Inazuma nodded. "It's why I brought you coffee," The destroyer glanced up at her makeshift helmet.
Solette smiled and obligingly took the carafe off the girl's head. "Bless you, Inazuma."
The destroyer girl beamed while the Major poured himself a healthy cup. The coffee was black and strong enough for the fumes alone to send the last remnants of sleep routing, but it didn't look like the half-burnt, heavily salted gunk that sailors—and particularly shipgirls—guzzled down. This was proper coffee.
Solette took a quick sip. It was bitter, yes, and strong. But somehow smooth. He smiled and ruffled the destroyer's scruffy hair.
"Hawawaw~" Inazuma's face erupted in a smile and her legs turned to jelly. "You're welcome, major!" She threw her little arms around the Major's waist and squeezed him tight. "But, uh… we should really get going."
Solette took a long sip of his coffee. As a rule, especially on bases as hard-pressed for resources as Adak, human personnel and destroyers ate first.
Partly because a destroyer's tiny boilers built up steam faster than even the quickest battleship. They'd be up, showered, changed, and fed all before the heavier ships had even fully woken up. But mostly, it was because a battleship could eat more than an entire platoon. Once Jersey, Musashi, Akagi, and the others started eating, they wouldn't stop until there wasn't a crumb left for anyone. And odds are, they still wouldn't be full.
"You know who's on cooking duty?" Solette felt his stomach grumble at him as he finished lacing up his boots. But it was a very timid grumble, like a junior NCO muttering to himself when he thinks his CO's busy with a phone call. It wasn't even close to the wall-shaking rumbles he'd heard from hungry battleships.
"Um…" Inazuma tapped her finger to her mouth, her brows knitting in concentration. "Jersey-san and the Kongous."
Solette glanced at his watch. "Jersey?" The grouchy battleship hadn't been back long, but her reputation for immense laziness had spread though the services like wildfire.
"Mmhm," Inzauma gave an enthusiastic nod. "She said woke up to get a snack at midnight, and she couldn't get back to bed."
Solette blinked. "A snack?"
Inazuma nodded.
"She ate half a dozen jars of peanut butter," said the Major, "That I know of."
Inazuma nodded again, a blissful smile on her face.
"That's a lot," explained the Soldier.
Inazuma shrugged, then gently nodded towards the door.
Solette took the hint and fell into line astern of the tiny destroyer girl. "After you, Inazuma." He didn't really need the escort. Even if he hadn't memorized the way to the hotel dining room, the powerful sent of cooking eggs and bacon called to him like a lighthouse in the middle of raging storm. Or some other suitably nautical metaphor, Solette was still a ground pounder at heart.
Inazuma, for her part, didn't say much on the short walk. She'd collected her carafe—and balanced it on her head, naturally—and tottered along with grave seriousness. Destroyers only had room for one emotion or action at a time, and they always threw every fiber of their being into whatever it was they were doing at the moment. It was commendable and adorable at the same time.
A few moments later, Solette and his little escort pushed their way though the dining room's heavy double doors. And barely avoided getting plowed over by a blur of feathers and giggles.
Solette's hand couldn't reach his face fast enough. One of the local metal workers had whipped up a wheelchair strong enough to handle Heermann's weight. At the time, it'd sounded like a good idea. But now, Solette was regretting making the little murderballs even more mobile.
"Weeee!" Heermann threw her hands up in the air as her sisters raced her around the room as fast as their little legs could manage.
Solette sighed. "I don't know what I expected," he grumbled, more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But even he couldn't get too upset. Yes, the little shits were causing trouble like nobody's business, but at least Heermann was visibly enjoying herself. The little Fletcher was healing, albeit healing back into a hyperactive little murderball.
"Dooooooooc!" Heermann waved at him, her stumpy little shins flailing against the foam rubber of her seat. "Dooooooooc! Lookit meeeee!"
Solette raised his coffee in the closest approximation of a salute he could be bothered to give this early in the morning. Besides, breakfast awaited him.
And what a breakfast it was. The smells of Scrambled eggs, fluffy biscuits with thick sausage gravy, thick-sliced bacon smoked to perfection, and Kongou's fresh scones, washed over Solette like waves crashing against a sandy beach. His mouth was watering at the sight, and the smell was so entrancing, it took him almost a solid minute to realize that New Jersey was sitting behind the counter.
Dressed in nothing more than that American flag bikini she loved so much and her mirrored aviators.
"Heya, Major," the battleship shot Solette a smirk. "What can I do for ya?"
"Well," Solette motioned to the mountain of eggs piled up on Jersey's griddle, "some eggs would be nice."
"Oh," Jersey's smirk grew into an almost lecherous grin. "You, uh… you want my eggs now, huh?"
Solette's glare could've peeled the paint off a wall at fifty paces.
"I'm just saying," Jersey bounced her eyebrows as she shoveled a generous helping of scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to Solette. "Wouldn't be the first time I was filled with sea-" the battleship was abruptly silenced by a oven-fresh scone. Strawberry, if Solette's nose was accurate.
"Dess!" Kongou thrust a thumb up into the air and offered Solette a wink. Like Jersey, she was still in her swimsuit… for some reason, but at least she'd thrown an apron on over top. The Japanese girl just giggled before bouncing—in every sense of the word. That bikini gave less support than a binding UN resolution—back to her oven.
Jersey just shrugged and gulped down the scone in one bite. "Damn, that shit's good."
Solette smirked.
Jersey scowled. "If you say 'that's what she said', so help me god, I will fuck you up."
Soltte smiled an innocent, almost cherubic smile. "Who, me?"
Jersey screwed up her face. Her nose crinkled around the bridge like straining metal, her brows knit into a palisade and her icy eyes narrowed to slits. "I…" Solette swore he could see faeries scrambling around her bridge trying to come up with a witty response. But the best the battleship manage was a grunted, "Fuck."
The Major rolled his eyes. He was about to shoot back a much wittier retort when he felt a gentle tug on the end of his belt.
"Excuse me," said the measured voice of a destroyer, "Can I get some?"
"Yeah, sure," said Solette, "Just let…" the major felt his voice die in the back of his throat when he glanced down at the source of the tug.
It was Akizuki, he'd recognize that hair-band anywhere. But she was in her swimsuit, a cute two-peice in her usual colors of white and off-black, not her usual corset and skirt ensemble.
Solette didn't see the anti-aircraft destroyers around base very often, but he'd gotten the distinct impression they were very sleek, slender girls. Both of them stood a bit taller than the stocky taffies, and their corsets made them look even sleeker.
But… seeing Akizuki like this, with her stomach on display for all to see, the Major couldn't shake the feeling that the little girl looked… skinny. Not sleek, not svelte, skinny. The poor thing radiated malnourishment, and Solette could almost count her ribs though her pale skin.
"Hey," Jersey leaned over with a horse whisper. "You wanna see something funny?"
Solette just numbly nodded and stepped back to let the skinny destroyer get her much-needed breakfast. He wasn't quite sure what part of this was 'funny', but he trusted Jersey to have… something up her sleeve.
"Heya, kiddo," Jersey rested her forearms on the bare metal of her griddle. "What can I get for ya?"
"Can I have some eggs, please?" the little destroyer offered her plate with the kind of timid half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She almost looked like she expected to be turned down.
"Yeah, sure," The battleship started shoving eggs onto the clean porcelain with her spatula. "How much do you want?"
The destroyer stood on tip-toes to get a look. Her jaw went slack at the mountain Jersey was shoveling onto her plate. Her knees went loose and she would have fallen onto the floor in a shocked puddle of destroyer if Solette hadn't been there to catch her. "Tha- tha-"
"So more then," said Jersey with a smirk.
"N-no, that's…" the destroyer struggled back to her feet, "That's- thank you," she managed a timid bow, "May I have my plate now?"
Jersey squinted at the girl, sizing up her slender build. "No."
"Bu-bu-" the destroyer stammered, helpless to do anything as long as Jersey held her plate hostage.
The American smirked and shoveled another load of eggs onto the plate, roughly doubling the amount that'd been there before. "Hmm…" Jersey scraped a few stragglers onto the plate and held it up for an exaggerated inspection. "Kirishima?"
"Hai?"
"I feel like there's something missing here?"
The Japanese fast battleship nodded sagely. Her glasses glinted in the light as she leaned in to give the plate her through inspection. "Hmm…"
The destroyer quivered between confusion and unrestrained glee. Kirishima produced a pair of calipers from… somewhere and held them against the mountain of eggs with a quite "hmmmm."
"According to my calculating," Kirishima thrust her finger in the air, "This plate is missing bacon!"
"Bacon you say?"
"I do indeed!"
"Well then," Jersey offered the plate to Kirishima, "Let's remedy this!"
"Kirishima heading out!" The youngest Kongou flipped her tongs around her finger like an old-west gunfighter spinning his pistol, garnering an enthusiastic thumbs-up from the nameship of her class.
The destroyer's little mouth hung open in mute astonishment as Kirishima carefully placed a full dozen slices of thick bacon onto the plate and presented it to Jersey.
"Hmm," Jersey squinted at the plate, "I give my seal of approval!" She smiled and offered the plate to it's stunned owner. Solette had to guide the destroyer's arms up to meet the plate.
"This-" The little destroyer girl stared down at a mountain of eggs roughly the size of Musashi's ego. "This is too-"
Kongou silenced the girl with her patented 'shove a scone into the problem' method.
"Dess!"
Jersey smiled, "Eat up, kiddo."
The destroyer mumbled something though the mass of oven-fresh pastry filling her mouth and hurriedly shuffled back to her table.
"Pretty funny, right?" Jersey bounced her eyebrows up and down behind her mirrored shades, her face stuck in a dopey lopsided grin. "Right?"
"You," Solette took an exaggerated bite of bacon, "Are an evil, evil person."
"Oh, see," the battleship held up a finger, "that's where you're wrong. You see, I," she motioned up and down her own sinewy body, "am not a person. I am a ship."
Solette just rolled his eyes and wandered off to find a table.
—|—|—
On the other side of the planet, Rear Admiral Bill Caraway, head of the Eastern Seaboard Combined Antisubmarine Command, was discovering new and interesting ways to hate his life.
It was no secret that anything too small to be considered a full-up warship came back as some kind of ship-animal. The Canadian Flower-class corvette-newfies were beloved for both their antisubmarine prowess and—if Caraway was being honest here—adorably playful nature. The newfies were big dogs, but they were still… well… dogs. They only wanted to help, and they were always a pleasure to have around.
Caraway's organic ship-animal elements, though, were not nearly so benign. Ever since Akron and Macon returned to the land of the living, Caraway and the sailors working under him had been finding K-class blimps in the oddest places.
The Admiral did appreciate how invaluable the little blimps were in pushing back the seemingly infinite Abyssal submarine force. Just one blimp could cover a vast chunk of ocean. If they couldn't sink their prey with their own depth charges, they could vector in a Newfie division or Destroyer to finish the job for them. But there was just one little problem.
The blimps didn't come back as dogs. They came back as cats. Smug, guilt-tripping asshole cats. That hovered. And wouldn't listen to anyone other than the air headed carrier girls when they weren't in their rigging.
Caraway scowled and batted a napping blimp-cat out of his way with his half-full coffee mug. The fat silver-haired cat shot him a glare of hateful indifference as it lazily drifted towards the ceiling.
"We need to find a way to coral those things," said the admiral as he watched the chubby feline lick at its fluffy silver fir.
"Uh… sir?" His yeoman glanced up from her overflowing clipboard, "Did… you just literally ask me to herd cats?"
Caraway hung his head. "I did, didn't I?"
"To be fair, sir," the yeoman deftly switched out her Admiral's coffee with a freshly-filled cup, "That's not the weirdest thing you've made me do."
"Guess so," Caraway took a long drag of the fresh coffee before turning to the screens filling his CIC. "So, what's the latest from the midwatch?"
"We, uh…" the yeoman blushed as she flipped though her clipboard. "We got a sitrep from Akron."
"Oh god." Caraway winced. He'd issued the air-headed girl, and her equally loony step sister, a top of the line cellphone. The idea was to leverage all the networked-warfare knowledge the US navy had built up over the past decades by giving her easy access to the theater-wide net. And it worked.
Only it also gave her easy access to… well…
The yeoman cleared her throat. "Message reads," she arched her back a little, thrusting her chest out and putting on a dopey smile in perfect imitation of the chubby carrier girl's easy-going nature. "I'm inna cloud," the yeoman captured Akron's sing-song accent flawlessly, "I'm inna cloud, and I'm pwning their subs."
Caraway scowled and took a long drag of his coffee. Whoever introduced that girl to lolcats would die.
Major Solette sank down into his chair with a contented smile on his face. The hearty food, made to fill the stomach of a hungry shipgirl, had more than made up for all the times he'd had to skip lunch or subsist of longing glances towards the mess hall. Now it was time to cultivate his new favorite hobby, shipgirl watching.
Watching the girls live out their daily lives was always interesting, but watching them at feeding time never failed to be hilarious.
Akizuki and her sister huddled around plates laden with mountains of food bigger than their own heads. The little anti-aircraft destroyers didn't do more than pick and poke at the food in shocked astonishment. Or at least they didn't until Jersey came over and told them in no certain words that she, and by extension, America would be personally offended if the girls didn't eat up and then ask for seconds. Neither destroyer needed any convincing after that.
Across the table, Yuudachi, Fubuki, and Naka shared fresh scones and pulpy orange juice with Sammy. Meanwhile, the taffies wolfed down their meals like exhausted schoolgirls desperate to top off their energy so they could go back to playing. Destroyers, even the more ladylike ones like Inazuma, ate like growing girls: constantly, and often very messily.
Speaking of ladies, Tenryuu'd gathered her kindergarten around her to share the morning meal. The cruiser herself hadn't bothered to change out of her white-on-black swimsuit, though she had at least tied a sarong around her hips. And being Tenryuu, she'd brought her sword to impale bacon with.
Meanwhile, Hibiki slowly munched her way down a bacon strip like a machine gun slurping up an ammo belt. Each little bite brought the thick slab of meat a little further up the girl's little mouth. The stoic destroyer was even smiling that tiny little smile she wore when she was experiencing pure bliss.
Inazuma was busy carting around a comically large carafe of coffee using her head as a platter, with Ikazuchi and her tea carafe following in line astern. The two girls wandered around seemingly aimlessly, but Solette swore he noticed Inazuma glancing at him and smiling a few times.
Akatsuki was sitting nice and straight next to Tenryuu with her napkin tucked into the collar of her shirt. The little destroyer was happily munching her way though a generous helping of eggs, although she wasn't nearly as aggressive as Tenryuu's hunched-over wolfing.
Speaking of wolfing, Akagi and Ryuujou were frantically gobbling down their breakfast like starving girls. Akagi was still dressed in that red-on-blue swimsuit that she didn't eve remotely fit into, but the carrier seemed to like her present from Ryuujou, so Solette didn't want to interrupt her bliss.
Ryuujou tossed a carefree wave when she noticed Solette glancing their way, but Akagi was too busy stuffing eggs and biscuits into her belly to even notice. The poor girl had to be starving. She hadn't been able to stop clutching her stomach the whole time she was waiting in line, but she still insisted every one else go first.
A few tables further down, the battleships were tearing into their meals with almost as much enthusiasm as Akagi. Solette couldn't decide if Musashi looked comically huge, or if Nagato and Mutsu looked comically tiny, but there was certainly some kind of size disparity. And it didn't end at the size of the girls.
Musashi's meal looked bigger than Nagato's and Mutsu's combined. Even Mutsu'd lost her trademark sultry cool in the face of that monstrosity of eggs and bacon. All she could do was stare in slack-jawed awe while Musashi industriously worked though her breakfast.
Things only got worse when Jersey sauntered by and dropped her own comically oversized breakfast down. Solette was too far away to hear what the battleships were discussing, but judging by the way Jersey's hands never left her hips, and the way Musashi suddenly found her overflowing bikini top was in need of careful adjustment every few seconds, the two were doing their face-off thing again.
Given that Jersey's eyes never left Musashi's, while the Japanese girl's gaze kept drifting down to the American's exposed stomach, Jersey seemed to be winning. Score one for patriotism.
With their little dick-measuring competition out of the way, the two girls settled down to the job of finishing their meals. Every so often, Kongou or her sister would bounce by and shove a scone in one or more girls' mouth. But for the most part, the battleships ate in silence. Or as close to 'silence' as you could get when wolfing down food like a starving woman.
Eventually, though, even the battleships' appetites waned. Jersey drummed her hands against her stomach—that was still as flat and toned as ever, even after that gluttonous feast. The women in Everett must despise her—and muttered something to Nagato.
Nagato nodded, and the two battleships stood up and walked to the head of the dining room. With just the two of them standing side-by-side, the height difference was more obvious than ever. Nagato barely even reached Jersey's collarbone, and the spiked headress she wore only made the height difference seem even more comical.
"Yo," Jersey's booming contralto thundered off the dining room walls, "Listen up!"
The din of gossiping shipgirls and clinking utensils died down to a respectable silence.
"Kay, so," Jersey hooked her thumbs over the waistband of her baggy trunks. "We got orders to pass down to the fleet." She glanced over at Nagato, "You wanna go first?"
Nagato nodded her head and brushed a strand of that coal-black hair behind her ear. "The situation at home has deteriorated," she said. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her steel-hard gaze focused on a point in the far distance. "I am to lead a fleet consisting of Mutsu, Akagi, Ryuujou, and both Akizuki-chan and Terizuki-chan back to Japan to participate in the defense of our home islands."
"Which means," Jersey stepped forwards, "That her girls get first dibs on anything they wanna take for the road, understood?"
Akagi offered a thumbs up, but her mouth was too full of eggs to speak.
"Outstanding," Jersey bit the corner of her lip as she surveyed the sea of girls, every one wearing the same mildly worried look of intense concentration. "The rest of us are going to steam to Anchorage," she said. "Doc'll take a plane and meet us there."
Solette nodded and made a mental note to call ahead and make sure all the supplies and tools he'd need were waiting for him.
"Once we're there," continued Jersey, "Heermann and her sisters are gonna ride a train back with the Major. Meanwhile, the rest of us are gonna steam for Everett to be reconstituted into a combat element."
"Battleship Musashi," said Nagato, "will be incorporated into an escort element along with…" the super dreadnought trailed off and gave Jersey a glance.
"Oh, yeah," Jersey coughed. "We're sticking you with England, Edsall, Borie, Sammy, Maury and, Saint Lo. White'll probably link up with you too once you reach Japan."
Musashi was suddenly on her feet, her fists resting against her hips like Superman as she thrust her chin into the air. "I, Musashi, will embrace this honor with my full energy!" she thundered.
Nagato's shoulders slumped, but Jersey just beamed at the bombastic battleship. "Outstanding," said the American. "Alright, you've got 'til…" she glanced at one of her four watches, "ten-hundred. I want all of you here with your rigs so we can hit the water. Understood?"
"Aye Aye, Jersey!" Chorused the assembled shipgirl fleet.
"Outstanding," Jersey smiled, "Dismissed."
But he'd more than doubled the list in the few months he spent working with shipgirls. The girls' unique biology—if you could even call it that—allowed for, as Akashi like to put it, "New and more interesting ways of hurting yourself." From well-meaning but unthinking doctors trying to put several thousands tons of steel war machine though an MRI, to patching destroyers after they ran their little turbines too hard, to… well just about anything Tenryuu got dared into doing, the stories were as endless as they were insane.
Luckily, however, shipgirls had brought a few things with them. And one that was quickly becoming the Major's favorite was a sudden arrival by the coffee fairy.
"Good morning, nanodesu," Inazuma offered a shy smile from underneath the comically large carafe she held balanced on her little head. "Coffee, Solette-san?"
"G'mornin Inazuma," Solette smiled at the girl as he lazily rolled out of bed. His blouse was still hanging against the wall—he hadn't gotten around to cleaning the syrup off it after the Taffies' little accident—but the rest of his uniform was just a few shuffling steps away. If the little destroyer minded seeing him in boxers, she didn't show it. "What uh," Solette stifled a yawn as he pulled on his rumpled fatigues, "What time is it?"
"Oh-five-hundred, nanodesu." The third-generation special-type slowly pivoted to face Solette, her enormous coffee-laden hat gliding like a battleship's turret.
Solette grunted as he fumbled for his boots. "Oh-five?"
Inazuma nodded. "It's why I brought you coffee," The destroyer glanced up at her makeshift helmet.
Solette smiled and obligingly took the carafe off the girl's head. "Bless you, Inazuma."
The destroyer girl beamed while the Major poured himself a healthy cup. The coffee was black and strong enough for the fumes alone to send the last remnants of sleep routing, but it didn't look like the half-burnt, heavily salted gunk that sailors—and particularly shipgirls—guzzled down. This was proper coffee.
Solette took a quick sip. It was bitter, yes, and strong. But somehow smooth. He smiled and ruffled the destroyer's scruffy hair.
"Hawawaw~" Inazuma's face erupted in a smile and her legs turned to jelly. "You're welcome, major!" She threw her little arms around the Major's waist and squeezed him tight. "But, uh… we should really get going."
Solette took a long sip of his coffee. As a rule, especially on bases as hard-pressed for resources as Adak, human personnel and destroyers ate first.
Partly because a destroyer's tiny boilers built up steam faster than even the quickest battleship. They'd be up, showered, changed, and fed all before the heavier ships had even fully woken up. But mostly, it was because a battleship could eat more than an entire platoon. Once Jersey, Musashi, Akagi, and the others started eating, they wouldn't stop until there wasn't a crumb left for anyone. And odds are, they still wouldn't be full.
"You know who's on cooking duty?" Solette felt his stomach grumble at him as he finished lacing up his boots. But it was a very timid grumble, like a junior NCO muttering to himself when he thinks his CO's busy with a phone call. It wasn't even close to the wall-shaking rumbles he'd heard from hungry battleships.
"Um…" Inazuma tapped her finger to her mouth, her brows knitting in concentration. "Jersey-san and the Kongous."
Solette glanced at his watch. "Jersey?" The grouchy battleship hadn't been back long, but her reputation for immense laziness had spread though the services like wildfire.
"Mmhm," Inzauma gave an enthusiastic nod. "She said woke up to get a snack at midnight, and she couldn't get back to bed."
Solette blinked. "A snack?"
Inazuma nodded.
"She ate half a dozen jars of peanut butter," said the Major, "That I know of."
Inazuma nodded again, a blissful smile on her face.
"That's a lot," explained the Soldier.
Inazuma shrugged, then gently nodded towards the door.
Solette took the hint and fell into line astern of the tiny destroyer girl. "After you, Inazuma." He didn't really need the escort. Even if he hadn't memorized the way to the hotel dining room, the powerful sent of cooking eggs and bacon called to him like a lighthouse in the middle of raging storm. Or some other suitably nautical metaphor, Solette was still a ground pounder at heart.
Inazuma, for her part, didn't say much on the short walk. She'd collected her carafe—and balanced it on her head, naturally—and tottered along with grave seriousness. Destroyers only had room for one emotion or action at a time, and they always threw every fiber of their being into whatever it was they were doing at the moment. It was commendable and adorable at the same time.
A few moments later, Solette and his little escort pushed their way though the dining room's heavy double doors. And barely avoided getting plowed over by a blur of feathers and giggles.
Solette's hand couldn't reach his face fast enough. One of the local metal workers had whipped up a wheelchair strong enough to handle Heermann's weight. At the time, it'd sounded like a good idea. But now, Solette was regretting making the little murderballs even more mobile.
"Weeee!" Heermann threw her hands up in the air as her sisters raced her around the room as fast as their little legs could manage.
Solette sighed. "I don't know what I expected," he grumbled, more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But even he couldn't get too upset. Yes, the little shits were causing trouble like nobody's business, but at least Heermann was visibly enjoying herself. The little Fletcher was healing, albeit healing back into a hyperactive little murderball.
"Dooooooooc!" Heermann waved at him, her stumpy little shins flailing against the foam rubber of her seat. "Dooooooooc! Lookit meeeee!"
Solette raised his coffee in the closest approximation of a salute he could be bothered to give this early in the morning. Besides, breakfast awaited him.
And what a breakfast it was. The smells of Scrambled eggs, fluffy biscuits with thick sausage gravy, thick-sliced bacon smoked to perfection, and Kongou's fresh scones, washed over Solette like waves crashing against a sandy beach. His mouth was watering at the sight, and the smell was so entrancing, it took him almost a solid minute to realize that New Jersey was sitting behind the counter.
Dressed in nothing more than that American flag bikini she loved so much and her mirrored aviators.
"Heya, Major," the battleship shot Solette a smirk. "What can I do for ya?"
"Well," Solette motioned to the mountain of eggs piled up on Jersey's griddle, "some eggs would be nice."
"Oh," Jersey's smirk grew into an almost lecherous grin. "You, uh… you want my eggs now, huh?"
Solette's glare could've peeled the paint off a wall at fifty paces.
"I'm just saying," Jersey bounced her eyebrows as she shoveled a generous helping of scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to Solette. "Wouldn't be the first time I was filled with sea-" the battleship was abruptly silenced by a oven-fresh scone. Strawberry, if Solette's nose was accurate.
"Dess!" Kongou thrust a thumb up into the air and offered Solette a wink. Like Jersey, she was still in her swimsuit… for some reason, but at least she'd thrown an apron on over top. The Japanese girl just giggled before bouncing—in every sense of the word. That bikini gave less support than a binding UN resolution—back to her oven.
Jersey just shrugged and gulped down the scone in one bite. "Damn, that shit's good."
Solette smirked.
Jersey scowled. "If you say 'that's what she said', so help me god, I will fuck you up."
Soltte smiled an innocent, almost cherubic smile. "Who, me?"
Jersey screwed up her face. Her nose crinkled around the bridge like straining metal, her brows knit into a palisade and her icy eyes narrowed to slits. "I…" Solette swore he could see faeries scrambling around her bridge trying to come up with a witty response. But the best the battleship manage was a grunted, "Fuck."
The Major rolled his eyes. He was about to shoot back a much wittier retort when he felt a gentle tug on the end of his belt.
"Excuse me," said the measured voice of a destroyer, "Can I get some?"
"Yeah, sure," said Solette, "Just let…" the major felt his voice die in the back of his throat when he glanced down at the source of the tug.
It was Akizuki, he'd recognize that hair-band anywhere. But she was in her swimsuit, a cute two-peice in her usual colors of white and off-black, not her usual corset and skirt ensemble.
Solette didn't see the anti-aircraft destroyers around base very often, but he'd gotten the distinct impression they were very sleek, slender girls. Both of them stood a bit taller than the stocky taffies, and their corsets made them look even sleeker.
But… seeing Akizuki like this, with her stomach on display for all to see, the Major couldn't shake the feeling that the little girl looked… skinny. Not sleek, not svelte, skinny. The poor thing radiated malnourishment, and Solette could almost count her ribs though her pale skin.
"Hey," Jersey leaned over with a horse whisper. "You wanna see something funny?"
Solette just numbly nodded and stepped back to let the skinny destroyer get her much-needed breakfast. He wasn't quite sure what part of this was 'funny', but he trusted Jersey to have… something up her sleeve.
"Heya, kiddo," Jersey rested her forearms on the bare metal of her griddle. "What can I get for ya?"
"Can I have some eggs, please?" the little destroyer offered her plate with the kind of timid half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She almost looked like she expected to be turned down.
"Yeah, sure," The battleship started shoving eggs onto the clean porcelain with her spatula. "How much do you want?"
The destroyer stood on tip-toes to get a look. Her jaw went slack at the mountain Jersey was shoveling onto her plate. Her knees went loose and she would have fallen onto the floor in a shocked puddle of destroyer if Solette hadn't been there to catch her. "Tha- tha-"
"So more then," said Jersey with a smirk.
"N-no, that's…" the destroyer struggled back to her feet, "That's- thank you," she managed a timid bow, "May I have my plate now?"
Jersey squinted at the girl, sizing up her slender build. "No."
"Bu-bu-" the destroyer stammered, helpless to do anything as long as Jersey held her plate hostage.
The American smirked and shoveled another load of eggs onto the plate, roughly doubling the amount that'd been there before. "Hmm…" Jersey scraped a few stragglers onto the plate and held it up for an exaggerated inspection. "Kirishima?"
"Hai?"
"I feel like there's something missing here?"
The Japanese fast battleship nodded sagely. Her glasses glinted in the light as she leaned in to give the plate her through inspection. "Hmm…"
The destroyer quivered between confusion and unrestrained glee. Kirishima produced a pair of calipers from… somewhere and held them against the mountain of eggs with a quite "hmmmm."
"According to my calculating," Kirishima thrust her finger in the air, "This plate is missing bacon!"
"Bacon you say?"
"I do indeed!"
"Well then," Jersey offered the plate to Kirishima, "Let's remedy this!"
"Kirishima heading out!" The youngest Kongou flipped her tongs around her finger like an old-west gunfighter spinning his pistol, garnering an enthusiastic thumbs-up from the nameship of her class.
The destroyer's little mouth hung open in mute astonishment as Kirishima carefully placed a full dozen slices of thick bacon onto the plate and presented it to Jersey.
"Hmm," Jersey squinted at the plate, "I give my seal of approval!" She smiled and offered the plate to it's stunned owner. Solette had to guide the destroyer's arms up to meet the plate.
"This-" The little destroyer girl stared down at a mountain of eggs roughly the size of Musashi's ego. "This is too-"
Kongou silenced the girl with her patented 'shove a scone into the problem' method.
"Dess!"
Jersey smiled, "Eat up, kiddo."
The destroyer mumbled something though the mass of oven-fresh pastry filling her mouth and hurriedly shuffled back to her table.
"Pretty funny, right?" Jersey bounced her eyebrows up and down behind her mirrored shades, her face stuck in a dopey lopsided grin. "Right?"
"You," Solette took an exaggerated bite of bacon, "Are an evil, evil person."
"Oh, see," the battleship held up a finger, "that's where you're wrong. You see, I," she motioned up and down her own sinewy body, "am not a person. I am a ship."
Solette just rolled his eyes and wandered off to find a table.
—|—|—
On the other side of the planet, Rear Admiral Bill Caraway, head of the Eastern Seaboard Combined Antisubmarine Command, was discovering new and interesting ways to hate his life.
It was no secret that anything too small to be considered a full-up warship came back as some kind of ship-animal. The Canadian Flower-class corvette-newfies were beloved for both their antisubmarine prowess and—if Caraway was being honest here—adorably playful nature. The newfies were big dogs, but they were still… well… dogs. They only wanted to help, and they were always a pleasure to have around.
Caraway's organic ship-animal elements, though, were not nearly so benign. Ever since Akron and Macon returned to the land of the living, Caraway and the sailors working under him had been finding K-class blimps in the oddest places.
The Admiral did appreciate how invaluable the little blimps were in pushing back the seemingly infinite Abyssal submarine force. Just one blimp could cover a vast chunk of ocean. If they couldn't sink their prey with their own depth charges, they could vector in a Newfie division or Destroyer to finish the job for them. But there was just one little problem.
The blimps didn't come back as dogs. They came back as cats. Smug, guilt-tripping asshole cats. That hovered. And wouldn't listen to anyone other than the air headed carrier girls when they weren't in their rigging.
Caraway scowled and batted a napping blimp-cat out of his way with his half-full coffee mug. The fat silver-haired cat shot him a glare of hateful indifference as it lazily drifted towards the ceiling.
"We need to find a way to coral those things," said the admiral as he watched the chubby feline lick at its fluffy silver fir.
"Uh… sir?" His yeoman glanced up from her overflowing clipboard, "Did… you just literally ask me to herd cats?"
Caraway hung his head. "I did, didn't I?"
"To be fair, sir," the yeoman deftly switched out her Admiral's coffee with a freshly-filled cup, "That's not the weirdest thing you've made me do."
"Guess so," Caraway took a long drag of the fresh coffee before turning to the screens filling his CIC. "So, what's the latest from the midwatch?"
"We, uh…" the yeoman blushed as she flipped though her clipboard. "We got a sitrep from Akron."
"Oh god." Caraway winced. He'd issued the air-headed girl, and her equally loony step sister, a top of the line cellphone. The idea was to leverage all the networked-warfare knowledge the US navy had built up over the past decades by giving her easy access to the theater-wide net. And it worked.
Only it also gave her easy access to… well…
The yeoman cleared her throat. "Message reads," she arched her back a little, thrusting her chest out and putting on a dopey smile in perfect imitation of the chubby carrier girl's easy-going nature. "I'm inna cloud," the yeoman captured Akron's sing-song accent flawlessly, "I'm inna cloud, and I'm pwning their subs."
Caraway scowled and took a long drag of his coffee. Whoever introduced that girl to lolcats would die.
—|—|—
Major Solette sank down into his chair with a contented smile on his face. The hearty food, made to fill the stomach of a hungry shipgirl, had more than made up for all the times he'd had to skip lunch or subsist of longing glances towards the mess hall. Now it was time to cultivate his new favorite hobby, shipgirl watching.
Watching the girls live out their daily lives was always interesting, but watching them at feeding time never failed to be hilarious.
Akizuki and her sister huddled around plates laden with mountains of food bigger than their own heads. The little anti-aircraft destroyers didn't do more than pick and poke at the food in shocked astonishment. Or at least they didn't until Jersey came over and told them in no certain words that she, and by extension, America would be personally offended if the girls didn't eat up and then ask for seconds. Neither destroyer needed any convincing after that.
Across the table, Yuudachi, Fubuki, and Naka shared fresh scones and pulpy orange juice with Sammy. Meanwhile, the taffies wolfed down their meals like exhausted schoolgirls desperate to top off their energy so they could go back to playing. Destroyers, even the more ladylike ones like Inazuma, ate like growing girls: constantly, and often very messily.
Speaking of ladies, Tenryuu'd gathered her kindergarten around her to share the morning meal. The cruiser herself hadn't bothered to change out of her white-on-black swimsuit, though she had at least tied a sarong around her hips. And being Tenryuu, she'd brought her sword to impale bacon with.
Meanwhile, Hibiki slowly munched her way down a bacon strip like a machine gun slurping up an ammo belt. Each little bite brought the thick slab of meat a little further up the girl's little mouth. The stoic destroyer was even smiling that tiny little smile she wore when she was experiencing pure bliss.
Inazuma was busy carting around a comically large carafe of coffee using her head as a platter, with Ikazuchi and her tea carafe following in line astern. The two girls wandered around seemingly aimlessly, but Solette swore he noticed Inazuma glancing at him and smiling a few times.
Akatsuki was sitting nice and straight next to Tenryuu with her napkin tucked into the collar of her shirt. The little destroyer was happily munching her way though a generous helping of eggs, although she wasn't nearly as aggressive as Tenryuu's hunched-over wolfing.
Speaking of wolfing, Akagi and Ryuujou were frantically gobbling down their breakfast like starving girls. Akagi was still dressed in that red-on-blue swimsuit that she didn't eve remotely fit into, but the carrier seemed to like her present from Ryuujou, so Solette didn't want to interrupt her bliss.
Ryuujou tossed a carefree wave when she noticed Solette glancing their way, but Akagi was too busy stuffing eggs and biscuits into her belly to even notice. The poor girl had to be starving. She hadn't been able to stop clutching her stomach the whole time she was waiting in line, but she still insisted every one else go first.
A few tables further down, the battleships were tearing into their meals with almost as much enthusiasm as Akagi. Solette couldn't decide if Musashi looked comically huge, or if Nagato and Mutsu looked comically tiny, but there was certainly some kind of size disparity. And it didn't end at the size of the girls.
Musashi's meal looked bigger than Nagato's and Mutsu's combined. Even Mutsu'd lost her trademark sultry cool in the face of that monstrosity of eggs and bacon. All she could do was stare in slack-jawed awe while Musashi industriously worked though her breakfast.
Things only got worse when Jersey sauntered by and dropped her own comically oversized breakfast down. Solette was too far away to hear what the battleships were discussing, but judging by the way Jersey's hands never left her hips, and the way Musashi suddenly found her overflowing bikini top was in need of careful adjustment every few seconds, the two were doing their face-off thing again.
Given that Jersey's eyes never left Musashi's, while the Japanese girl's gaze kept drifting down to the American's exposed stomach, Jersey seemed to be winning. Score one for patriotism.
With their little dick-measuring competition out of the way, the two girls settled down to the job of finishing their meals. Every so often, Kongou or her sister would bounce by and shove a scone in one or more girls' mouth. But for the most part, the battleships ate in silence. Or as close to 'silence' as you could get when wolfing down food like a starving woman.
Eventually, though, even the battleships' appetites waned. Jersey drummed her hands against her stomach—that was still as flat and toned as ever, even after that gluttonous feast. The women in Everett must despise her—and muttered something to Nagato.
Nagato nodded, and the two battleships stood up and walked to the head of the dining room. With just the two of them standing side-by-side, the height difference was more obvious than ever. Nagato barely even reached Jersey's collarbone, and the spiked headress she wore only made the height difference seem even more comical.
"Yo," Jersey's booming contralto thundered off the dining room walls, "Listen up!"
The din of gossiping shipgirls and clinking utensils died down to a respectable silence.
"Kay, so," Jersey hooked her thumbs over the waistband of her baggy trunks. "We got orders to pass down to the fleet." She glanced over at Nagato, "You wanna go first?"
Nagato nodded her head and brushed a strand of that coal-black hair behind her ear. "The situation at home has deteriorated," she said. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her steel-hard gaze focused on a point in the far distance. "I am to lead a fleet consisting of Mutsu, Akagi, Ryuujou, and both Akizuki-chan and Terizuki-chan back to Japan to participate in the defense of our home islands."
"Which means," Jersey stepped forwards, "That her girls get first dibs on anything they wanna take for the road, understood?"
Akagi offered a thumbs up, but her mouth was too full of eggs to speak.
"Outstanding," Jersey bit the corner of her lip as she surveyed the sea of girls, every one wearing the same mildly worried look of intense concentration. "The rest of us are going to steam to Anchorage," she said. "Doc'll take a plane and meet us there."
Solette nodded and made a mental note to call ahead and make sure all the supplies and tools he'd need were waiting for him.
"Once we're there," continued Jersey, "Heermann and her sisters are gonna ride a train back with the Major. Meanwhile, the rest of us are gonna steam for Everett to be reconstituted into a combat element."
"Battleship Musashi," said Nagato, "will be incorporated into an escort element along with…" the super dreadnought trailed off and gave Jersey a glance.
"Oh, yeah," Jersey coughed. "We're sticking you with England, Edsall, Borie, Sammy, Maury and, Saint Lo. White'll probably link up with you too once you reach Japan."
Musashi was suddenly on her feet, her fists resting against her hips like Superman as she thrust her chin into the air. "I, Musashi, will embrace this honor with my full energy!" she thundered.
Nagato's shoulders slumped, but Jersey just beamed at the bombastic battleship. "Outstanding," said the American. "Alright, you've got 'til…" she glanced at one of her four watches, "ten-hundred. I want all of you here with your rigs so we can hit the water. Understood?"
"Aye Aye, Jersey!" Chorused the assembled shipgirl fleet.
"Outstanding," Jersey smiled, "Dismissed."
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Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
where's an image of that when you need it...
Daaaaw.
Kongou sisters cooking... HIEIIIIII, NOOOOOOOO!
Took the reaction right out of my... something.
That's kids for you.
Even Kongou can have enough of your shit, Jersey.
Not like her outfit gives her any. Heck, it's probably what she's wearing under the modified Miko outfit already.
Hoo boy.
AMERICAN EATING!
Heh, Kiri's in on it. Sweet.
1. Kongou a best.
2. *nomnomnomnomsong*
*remembers Tugs pulling Musashi and Jersey joke* Heh. The old dog-walks-human joke returns...
... you have a fleet of lazy Cheshire cats. I don't know if that's awesome or horrifying.
Don't mind the clanging sound, that's just my head meeting the bulkhead. Repeatedly.
*snrk* America is watching you eat, little destroyers!
Geez. They're good.
Nice chapter JMPer.
- Location
- United States
Being Solette is suffering.
Well, less suffering than it used to be.
Ah, the rolling court martial. I wonder if Heerman will take it down flights of stairs and learn how to BOUNCE.
God bless Kongou. Also, those poor ducks. I get the feeling that the bigger girls will make it something of a personal mission to stuff them.
Ha. I can see it.
Ah, so they are canonical, and apparently Admirals are also for bullying if the cats actions are any indication.
That was a lot of fun and full of cute ship girls doing cute things.
- Location
- State of Denial
Is the Edsall mentioned the Clemson class destroyer or the destroyer escort class name ship?