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Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

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Dirtnap said:
uhhh. Fubs never says that bruh. Also, she's sempai-sexual.
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Uhhh...

Yeah, she sort of does...
ijnfleetadmiral said:
I remember watching the anime and seeing Fubuki's vision of her telling the Admiral she loved him. I can't see her and the Admiral together...to me it's more like Admiral/Kongo and Fubuki/Mutsuki/Poi.
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But... what about Kongou and Fubuki?

maes said:
But what if the sempai gets promoted to Admiral? :p
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It depends... then again, Fubuki gets all the Sempais.
 
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Alaska's Shipping Bussiness
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    • Vestal's advice had been singularly unhelpful, in that it was less advice and more thirty minutes of continuous laughter. Which was strangely out of character for the crotchety, cranky, but usually helpful old repairship. While Jersey could admit, now that the moment had passed and she could look back on it with an objective mindset, that her getting sand stuck in her shaft galleries was pretty goddamn funny she was starting to suspect another motive was in play.

    After all, Vestal'd been a girl for even less time than Jersey had. Maybe the old warhorse simply couldn't answer her question. She should probably have called Solette first, he would have know what to do. Hell, if even half those stories Chunniboat told him were true, he could've helped her out of the predicament in the first place.

    Besides, she'd eventually solved the problem on her own through judicious use of her fire hoses. And Jersey wasn't the kind of battleship to dwell on her failures. Or… she was… but not… Point is she was tired and felt like sleeping.

    Thankfully, the Marines had erected—heh, 'erected'—a few tents for the shipgirls to make them feel more at home. If nothing else, it stopped Arizona from turning purple every time Jersey changed her shirt. What, the marines knew what porn was. They'd seen women topless before, what the fuck is the problem?

    Anyway, there were tents. There were also cots, and that's where the problems started. Jersey collapsed into a cot well after midnight, intent on getting some sleep after her night of misery. She'd only succeeded in utterly destroying the cot. It wasn't her fault she was built heavy!

    But the battleship hadn't sleep in almost a week, and she was getting cranky. Besides, the sand wasn't that hard and there was a nice tropical breeze to keep her company. It only took her a few moments to get comfortable—mostly by wedging her hands under her breasts to keep any filthy Nazi sand from touching the most perfect bosoms American—or any country, for that matter—naval engineering had ever devised.

    She got almost twenty consecutive minutes of sleep before her proximity radar chirped a warning at her.

    "The fuck?" Jersey grunted and rolled onto her well-muscled back. She was almost immediately confronted with two of the most unnecessarily massive fucking tits she'd ever seen in her entire goddamn life. A rack so pointlessly huge it strained the fabric of the poor panda-themed onesie encasing it to the very limit of the cheap fabric's material strength.

    Goddamn fuck-backwards nipponiese shithead excuses for naval engineers. "Hey, Shinny." Jersey rubbed sand from her eye and squinted at the towering figure standing wordlessly over her makeshift bed.

    The big carrier didn't say a word. She just wrung her hands with a quiet, timid expression. Or tried to at least. The sleeves were somehow too long, and she was reduced to just flapping the cuffs against each other nervously.

    "How long've you been standing there?" asked Jersey.

    The littlest Yamato let out a tiny, quiet sound so faint Jersey could barely hear it over the distant lap of waves against the surf. And even then she couldn't make it out.

    "Can't sleep?" Jersey scooted over to make room for the carrier to sit.

    "Mmm," Shinano nodded and poured herself into an amorphous puddle of inexplicably-well-endowed but otherwise endearingly childlike battle-carrier. "I…" she froze for several minutes, than promptly buried her face in Jersey's structurally perfect cleavage.

    "Um." Jersey blinked, and wrapped her arms around the big carrier's musclebound back. "You okay, kiddo?"

    Shinano nodded. "Am now," she said, slumping against Jersey's back like a living throw rug.

    "Don't like to sleep alone?" Jersey chuckled, and shifted on the floor to give the big carrier a better angle on the only two soft parts of her entire shredded-ass figure.

    Shinano shook her head. "N-normally mama-White cuddles me."

    Jersey blinked. For several minutes, she tried to figure out how that was even physical possible. White was like… this big, she shouldn't have been able to reach Shina's belt unless she stood on tip-toes. Then again, White was an escort carrier. Protecting her charges was written into her steel even more proudly than protecting carriers was seared into Jersey's. Maybe the battleship shouldn't question the strange and arcane powers of escort ships.

    "Well…" the battleship let her head rest back against the floor while Shinano get as comfortable as she could. "I'm not White—"

    "I know." Shinano smiled, her gasses going cockeyed as Jersey's soft bosom squished them off her button nose. "But you're still nice."

    Jersey cracked a wry smile. First time anyone called her nice.

    "Can you sing me a lullaby?" asked the big carrier with a yawn she didn't bother trying to hide.

    "A lullaby?" Jersey couldn't keep an amused lilt out of her voice. Calming people wasn't usually her thing.

    "Mmm," Shinano nodded and cuddled closer to the warm body that was a half-naked Iowa in tropical weather.

    "Well…" Jersey racked her brain for a good song. Thunderstruck, good though it was, wasn't really…. oh! There we go, that'll work. "There is one I know."

    Shinano closed her eyes and smiled.

    "Rising up," Jersey's voice was strong, but calm and quiet like the distant roll of waves. "Back on the street. Took my time, took my chances."

    By the time she reached the chorus, Shinano was fast asleep.

    —|—|—
    Large cruiser Alaska wandered through the mess hall with the kind of blissful directionless that only she could truly embody. She wasn't truly hungry, her dinner with Cameron's family had left her so stuffed her belly had actually lost a minute fraction of its usual taunt slimness. But even if she wasn't hungry, she still liked being in the mess hall. It always smelled like… love.

    For a shipgirl with an appetite as voracious as Alaska's, there was no truer way to express love than through food. The two concepts were practically one and same same for the big cruiser. It didn't hurt that she was friends with all the culinary staff—how could she not be, she spent so much of her time there! She liked them all, and even if she wasn't feeling hungry—which was rare—she'd stop by to say hi.

    But today there was yet another reason for Alaska to visit the mess hall. A reason she was slowly building up the confidence to approach as she did her eighth lap of the hall perimeter.

    He was sitting right there!

    No, not Cameron! If Cameron was here right now Alaska would waist no time joining him and extracting a kiss. She might even sit on his lap if she was feeling particularly frisky. She probablywouldn't make out with him though. That was the kind of thing she preferred to do in her room where there were lots of soft things around.

    No, the object of her interest was a man she had absolutly no desire whatsoever to kiss. He did, however, produce the book series she'd fell in love with from the moment she opened the first page. He'd even inspired her to pick up a pen on her own! She just… well… she didn't know what he'd say.

    She wasn't a writer after all, just a warship with only a few years of experience under her screws. She wasn't exactly thrilling reading material.

    But still…

    "Um," Alaska hugged her laptop to her only slightly less-flat chest and shuffled a little closer to the table. "Mister Stewart?"

    "Daniel, please." The author of the acclaimed—mostly by shipgirls, who had permanent dibs on the first several hundred copies of each new installment—glanced up from his humble lunch of soup and bread. "'Laska, it's nice to see you."

    Alaska didn't say anything. She just squealed a high-pitched sound for a few seconds than collapsed into a chair. He knew her name! This was so exciting! Right, gotta press forwards. "Um… I was wondering… um… could you take a look at something?"

    "Sure." Stewart set his spoon down with a smile and cleared off some room. "What's up?"

    "I-it's… n-nothing," Alaska felt her cheeks glow bright red as she settled her laptop on the table. "J-just a little, um, something I do when I get bored is all."

    "That's how we all get started, isn't it." Stewart smiled at the painfully nervous cruiser and glanced at her computer. "Hmm…."

    theJMPer said:
    Alaska's omake​

    (By Alaska. Beta-read by Atago. And also by Cameron. I do not own Changing Destiny)

    Large cruiser Alaska stood at proud attention, her immaculate dress blues hugging her svelte, distinctly-cruiserly figure in the cold late-January breeze. She couldn't say for certain just whyAdmiral Thompson had asked her to be here today. He seemed intent on preserving the surprise, only telling her to show up in her sunday best.

    Which Alaska did, of course. She wasn't a battleship after all. She didn't get to do the kind of fancy diplomatic thing her bigger cousins—or… now the carriers—did. She spent her days in her working blues. Dungarees trimmed with bits of wolf fur to match the territory she represented—though word on the waves was Alaska would be a state soon! The cruiser didn't know what to think about that, she just knew she liked how her dress blues felt against her skin.

    She liked getting to look all prim and proper next to her sister, too. Alaska was a rarity among wartime ships, she only had the one sister. She and Guam couldn't have been more different. She was pale as fresh-fallen snow, Guam's tan looked delicious, like half-melted chocolate. Her hair was white as a blizzard, and fell to the small of her back in furious, messy waves. Guam's hair was black as coal and kept in a short ponytail.

    But Alaska loved her one and only sister. She might not have as many little siblings as Essex of Fletcher, but that just meant she got to love Guam even more! She hoped she'd get to spend some time with her sister after… after whatever Admiral Thompson wanted her to do was finished.

    But even if that didn't happen, Alaska was happy just to see Guam again. She was happy to see Captain Fischer again. Especially since… well… she'd probably never see either of them again. It wasn't exactly a secret that Alaska and her sister were headed for the breakers. There just wasn't any place for a big-gun cruiser anymore. There hadn't been during the war, and now that the Russians had The Bomb… well…

    Alaska knew her time was done. She was proud that she'd at least had some time to serve. What was it General MacArthur said? Old soldiers never die? Alaska was happy she hadn't died in battle. She hadn't done much in the war, but she'd kept her crew safe. That was something the young warship could be proud of.

    "'laska, look!" Guam tugged at the cuff of Alaska's jacket and pointed furiously out into the cape.

    It took a moment for the large cruiser to shake herself out of her melancholy. When she did, she almost doubled over with laughter. It was Missy! Old Mississippi was steaming out as fast as her plump little hull would carry her, and with a truly ridiculous contraption strapped to her aft like an oversized fanny pack.

    "M-Missy!" Alaska giggled and waved at the plump old standard. "W-what are you wearing?"

    "Oh," Mississippi chuckled and waved a hand at the two cruisers. She was getting up in years, and the war had taken its toll on her. Her hair was streaked with rust, and her outfit was a hodge-podge of her old battle-line finery and a few poorly-fitting destroyer bits. Her proud batteries were replaced with anti-aircraft guns for training, and there was that odd contraption where turret four should be. But still, the old battleship carried with her the effortless grace of a true standard. "You sweeties haven't seen nothing yet."

    Alaska smiled, but her laughter stopped when he noticed Admiral Thompson looking right at her. His face was glowing and warm and she could tell he was fighting back the urge to tell her something. His wife, the sweet, soft, and impeccably stacked carrier Saratoga, held his hand in hers while struggling to clamp the other over her own mouth.

    Alaska didn't know what that was about, but it made her happy. This could well be one of her last days, but at least it was a fun one. Even if she went to the breakers tomorrow, Alaska would still count this day a success. People were laughing and having fun! She was surrounded by her friends! There were even a few planes in bright orange paint flying lazy circles above. So pretty!

    What a way to—

    Wait…

    "Missy, what are you doing?" Alaska cocked her head to the side as the strange Thing on Mississippi's aft slewed off her beam. It was like a turret, only not quite. There was no… turret part. Just a pair of rails huddled around a little shack with a pair of… were those rockets hanging underneath?

    Was Mississippi going to go to the moon? Alaska would like that a lot. It would be great fun!

    "Sweeties," Mississippi giggled in the thunderously loud way only a Standard could. "Welcome to the future!"

    With a roar that sounded like a gunshot, only longer and dawn out over several minutes, one of the rockets tore off what Alaska now knew was a launch rail and roared into the bright blue sky. Then, like it was piloted by a very small man, the rocket stood on its fin and turned over towards one of the orange-painted airplanes.

    Alaska let out a giddy yelp as she saw the rocket race toward its target. Not just at but actually toward. It was the most magical thing she'd ever seen! "Guam!" Alaska didn't dare take her eyes of the magical thing as she flailed for her little sister's arm. "GuamGuamGuam!"

    "I see it!" Guam all but leaped into Alaska's arms. "It's so pretty!"

    "Isn't it!" Alaska erupted in cheers as the rocket slammed home. So did the assemblage of Navy Brass watching, but none of them shared Alaska and Guam's giddy, girlish glee. Even Sister Sara restrained her mirth to the quiet dignity a married carrier with twins on the slips should.

    "That was so cool!" said Alaska.

    "Amazing!" said Guam.

    "Missy! Missy do it again!"

    "In time, girls," Mississippi chuckled and waited patiently while crewmen in long white coats rushed out to do things Alaska wasn't smart enough to understand. Alaska just fell to her aft and sat down on the gently-rolling water, contentedly watching debris spiral out of the sky. It was so pretty!

    She was so enthralled with watching the pretty things she hadn't even noticed a certain Admiral walk up to the pier behind her.

    "'Laska," Thompson said, shocking the cruiser out of her daydreams.

    "Admiral!" Alaska snapped to attention. Or… at least the closest approximation of attention she could manage with Sister Sara right there. Alaska was too young to really suppress her girlish glee at the carrier's obviously maternal state. Babies! Wait! No! Admiral! "Um… hello, sir."

    "Know what that was?" Thompson rested a hand against the crook of Sara's back. By the way she moved into it and the way he never broke eye contact, it looked like pure instinct. They were so cute together.

    "No," Alaska shook her head. She was pretty sure Guam was doing the same, but her little sister had gotten very quite all of a sudden. Poor Guam didn't have as many years under her belt as Alaska did, she was still shy around the brass.

    "That was a guided missile," said Thompson. "A Terrier, actually." He proceeded to give her a brief explanation, but all Alaska actually heard was "science science science science"

    That is, until he mentioned one word she did understand. "S-sorry," Alaska tried to keep her glee in check. He hadn't meant that, had he? "What did you say?"

    "SecNav needs ships to carry these missiles," said Thompson with a smile. "You and your sisters are to head to Newport News tomorrow for refit."

    "Tell them the rest, love." Sara rested her head on the crook of her husband's shoulder and nibbled playfully at his ear.

    "Well," Thompson hugged his wife close. "The two of you are the pilot program. Once we figure out what works, we'll finish Hawaii and Philippines to that configuration."

    Alaska wheeled around in the water and threw her hands around her little sister. "We're gonna have sisters!"
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    "W-well?" Alaska couldn't see his reaction through the lattice of fingers she'd constructed to hide herself from the world at large. After all, if she couldn't see it, it couldn't tell how hideously embarrassed she was. Right? That's how things worked, right?

    "That was very sweet," said Stewart. His voiced seemed kind, and almost… bemused. "Thompson married Sara after the war?"

    Alaska nodded. "Um… yeah. They… um…" ohmygod this was so embarrassing! "They seemed perfect for each other. Um… Texas said she'd really like you—him. Him. I meant, um… Admiral Thompson."

    "And have twins?" Stewart chuckled with a laugh that was colored with a blushing shade the large cruiser knew well.

    "Mmm," said Alaska, idly daydreaming about what her and Cameron's babies would look like. Adorable. They would look adorable. "B-babies make everything better, right?"

    Alaska felt her hair get ruffled. It was a feeling she liked, especially when coming from her beloved Cameron. "They sure do, 'laska."
     
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    • theJMPer said:
    "Can't sleep?" Jersey scooted over to make room for the carrier to sit.

    "Mmm," Shinano nodded and poured herself into an amorphous puddle of inexplicably-well-endowed but otherwise endearingly childlike battle-carrier. "I…" she froze for several minutes, than promptly buried her face in Jersey's structurally perfect cleavage.

    "Um." Jersey blinked, and wrapped her arms around the big carrier's musclebound back. "You okay, kiddo?"

    Shinano nodded. "Am now," she said, slumping against Jersey's back like a living throw rug.

    "Don't like to sleep alone?" Jersey chuckled, and shifted on the floor to give the big carrier a better angle on the only two soft parts of her entire shredded-ass figure.

    Shinano shook her head. "N-normally mama-White cuddles me."
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    Just when I wanted to go to bed...
    theJMPer said:
    "I-it's… n-nothing," Alaska felt her cheeks glow bright red as she settled her laptop on the table. "J-just a little, um, something I do when I get bored is all."

    "That's how we all get started, isn't it." Stewart smiled at the painfully nervous cruiser and glanced at her computer. "Hmm…."
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    Well that got weirdly meta.
    theJMPer said:
    "B-babies make everything better, right?"
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    According to Nobody Dies... not really.
    theJMPer said:
    Alaska felt her hair get ruffled. It was a feeling she liked, especially when coming from her beloved Cameron. "They sure do, 'laska."
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    Just wait until you have to give up your sleep schedule when they're born.
    theJMPer said:
    (And if you haven't already. Go read Changing Destiny. Like... now.)
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    Make me.:p
     
    I've had a design for Guam since I started writing KC stuff. Dark skin, dark eyes, native dress...she wouldn't look out of place on Guam. Other than the typical ship girl height and beauty. Since I always try to include stuff like that when I make a character desi...

    PAGDTenno said:
    Bullying the Sky. USS Saratoga confirmed.
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    >.>
     
    Gahhh! Now my muse for the RCN omakes has reignited! I already have too much to do, I can't write more with me staffing this summer! :cry:
     
    theJMPer said:
    He did, however, produce the book series she'd fell in love with from the moment she opened the first page.
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    theJMPer said:
    "Um," Alaska hugged her laptop to her only slightly less-flat chest and shuffled a little closer to the table. "Mister Stewart?"

    "Daniel, please." The author of the acclaimed—mostly by shipgirls, who had permanent dibs on the first several hundred copies of each new installment—glanced up from his humble lunch of soup and bread. "'Laska, it's nice to see you."
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    Daniel Steward a.k.a Skywalker, the author of Changing Destiny in and out of universe...the man, the myth, the legend.
     
    Having just read the meta, would that mean Kentucky and Illinois get completed? Because that's awesome, and the day I don't advocate capital ships with missiles and big guns (and possibly planes, once STVOL is a thing) is the day you know the pod people have invaded.
     
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