Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Yes. Got ambushed by a Soviet Wolf Pack outside of Holy Lock. I took two of them with me. I'm like the pilot from Red Dawn (the original, not the remake)
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
I'll send you one when I get the full description down and some good concept art from the 'boorus
There's a ridiculous amount of room to spare.
As per the BBC article I quoted earlier, stacked 2x2s in a vertical tower could reach 3.5km (2.17 miles) high (or ~375,000 bricks) before the bottom ones would begin deforming under the weight. Larger pieces are apparently slightly weaker, but still... at that point, it's not an issue. Missouri is ~210ft from keel to mast top, so that's a 57:1 safety margin.
Can you dig up the tensile strength of Legos? That would be important for the masts and the guns.
Here's for tensile strength of Technic beams. Seems to be in the 800-850N range for the beams themselves, and ~500N for 5-wide pinned couplings. 'full' beams are likely tougher, but strongest option for tensile application might be to use overlapping flat plates instead of bricks.
B-baka!
Frustrated Art
- Location
- Some town in the Philippines
Everyone wants to see 'laska in a swimsuit huh?
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Is that what they're calling it nowadays...
Farmerbob1
Rest in Peace
- Location
- Atlanta-ish
There was no remake of Red Dawn. That... thing... was ridiculous, unnecessary, and an abject failure in every measurable way.
At BEST, you could call it a defilement of Red Dawn.
- Location
- Nowhere
I'd rather see Jersey in one.
- Location
- Nowhere
Hell yeah~ colored.
'laska in a bikini, just change the hair and eyes~
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
No, Texas happened because Texas damn well wanted Texas to happen.
Jersey happened in large part because an Abyssal submarine sank her steel hull, when she couldn't possibly have self-summoned and was (apparently) in no shape to be reactivated. That was a significant oops.
Fifty-five years of minimal maintenance. Probably awfully rusty.
Interludes
- Location
- 'Murica
Sarah Gale didn't know why she thought taking a pregnancy test was a good idea. After all, even if Vestal was right, that still made her a woman who'd been impregnated by another woman. Except said other woman was actually a thirty-five thousand ton battleship that was scrapped half a century ago who was somehow carrying her child. Why she expected a garden-variety drug store pregnancy test to handle that impossible situation without being dragged off to a very tiny padded cell while mumbling half-formed paradoxes was beyond the tired sailor.
She also didn't know why—after her first try resulted not in a comforting one line or two, but a tiny scrawled message reading 'oh god, why?'—she decided to press on and try another brand. And another. And another. And then those inexplicably unmarked ones that Kirishima had on hand, but refused to explain where she got them from. Gale had gotten a plethora of responses, from 'gurl you cray' to a very tiny picture of an elderly woman in a bright blue shirt staring with a bewildered expression. And those were among the most helpful of the various responses Gale had gotten, things got progressively worse from there.
Gale had even tried going to Vestal. God knows why, the poor girl knew less about… being a girl than even Gale did. She'd even had to scribble over some of the pictures in her textbook with sharpie just so she could read it, apparently there were some… rather graphic depictions of childbirth that made the old coal-burner queasy. Besides, Vestal didn't have any hydrophones, so she couldn't have helped even if she wanted to.
Luckily, Gale happened to knew someone who did have hydrophones. Unluckily, she was Sarah Gale and even her lucky days somehow managed to screw her over. Wash was on coastal patrol—the closest thing to light duty a pregnant battleship could receive—with her escort at the moment, and Tenryuu's kids were ranging even further afield. That left only one destroyer on base Gale was even remotely comfortable poking around her middle.
Which is why she was sitting on the edge of a bed that hadn't been made in months, stripped to the waist with her pants unbuttoned while Borie squished her face against the bottom part of her belly. At least the little destroyer was wearing some form of clothing. But like all boons in the poor sailor's life, even that found a way to screw her over.
When Borie heard she was going to be providing medical advise, the little shit wasted no time finding a labcoat. Unfortunately, they don't make labcoats in subminiature-clothes-adverse-destroyer size, so she'd had to get creative with folding and rolling. And as far as Gale could tell, it was the only thing the little destroyer was wearing.
"Dammit, Borie!" Gale scowled at the little destroyer squishing against her pelvis. She could always tell when a Kanmusu was touching her, their skin was always a little cool. It was like touching brushed steel on a brisk day. Gale loved the tingly cool sensation when Wash kissed her down there… much less so when Borie was the one doing the touching.
"Shush!" Borie managed to somehow hiss in a German accent as thick was it was horrible. "Zeh Doktor isz Verking!"
"No you're not!" Said Gale. "You've just been lying there!"
"Doing zeh research!"
"You were snoring twenty minutes ago!"
Borie blinked. "Um…" Her accent vanished as her little destroyer brain scrambled to think of an alibi. "W… would you believe… um… active sonar?"
Gale sighed. At this point, she'd lost all grasp on reality and she honestly would have taken the little destroyer's excuse at face value if she'd just sold it better. "C'mon, Borie. Am I pregnant or not?"
"I think so," said the destroyer.
Gale's heart caught in her throat. Even if she could find the words to express what she was feeling… she could barely breath, let alone speak.
"You're really comfy," continued Borie. She tried to thrust a finger to make a point, but only succeeded in whipping herself in the face with her oversized sleeve. "And when I hug you I want to nap."
"W…wait," Gale's euprhoria came crashing down as reality suddenly reasserted itself. Or… as much of reality was could exist when talking to a half-naked, century old destroyer in the form of a pre-teen. "I… is that all you're going off?"
"It's the most relevant evidence," said Borie. "To me."
"Borie," Gale scowled and pulled her T-shirt back on. "I'm going to count to three—"
"Four," said Borie.
"What?"
"Four."
"Borie!" Gale huffed.
"Fouuuur," Borie smirked and held up four fingers.
Slowly, Gale's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "W-wait," her voice was the palest shadow of its former self. "B-borie… are you saying that…" her mouth was suddenly dry as bone. "I'm having… quadruplets?"
"Is that what you call four babies?" asked Borie.
Gale nodded, idly clutching at her slim, trim middle. Four babies… she knew what they said about American shipbuilding efficiency, but four! Plus however many Wash was carrying! She was starting to feel very faint indeed. "Yeah."
"Oh, then no."
Gale froze. A moment later, she glared daggers at the little destroyer. "Borie, the fuck?"
"I'm a destroyer!" Borie roared with as much volume as her little lungs could supply. "I kill subs with knives! I do not know how to doctor!"
"But…"
"Do you want to see my medical licences?" Borie shoved a scrap of construction paper covered in little crayon scribbles.
"Borie," Gale tuned over the 'licence'. "This just says 'I smart'."
"Mmm," Borie hopped onto the bed next to Gale and smiled. "You had a medical problem and you came to me. I am the smart one here."
Gale scowled, but couldn't say anything in return. After all… the little naked shit had a point. Instead, the sailor silently collected her uniform, tugged it straight in a futile attempt to recapture some of her dignity, and strode out the door with her chin held high. But because her luck hadn't changed from its miserably non-existent state, the moment Gale left the destroyer dorms and before she could come up with any alibi, she ran into her friend from her NCO days.
"'Ay…. Gale…." Yeoman Bowers panted with her hands on her sweat-slick knees. Bowers PT uniform was drenched in sweat, even in the brisk Washington weather, and her short ponytail was unraveling into a slick rat-tail of brown down her neck.
"Jen, you look like hell," Gale chuckled to herself, thinking back to her old days of trying to somehow match Wash's impossible figure.
"'know," Bowers closed her eyes and wiped a waterfall of sweat off her brow. "I hate running!"
"Then why…"
"Williams gave me… new orders." Bowers gulped down water with shaking hands, spilling some of it on her already-soaking shirt. "New orders."
"You have a job now?" Gale smiled. Among the yeomen, Bowers' reputation for skating was mythic. She was pretty sure she'd never actually seen her friend do anything. "What's that got to do with running?"
"Yeoman," gasped Bowers. "For… Commander Jersey."
"Oh!" Gale winced. Wash might be a goddess in human form, but at least her figure was somewhat attainable. Jersey… that woman would send a Greek goddess crying to the gym.
"What're you doing?" Bowers forced herself to keep moving, even if it was just a lazy stroll now that her legs had turned to jelly.
For a moment, Gale contemplated lying. But then she decided the truth might be some much-needed brightness in her friend's day. "Uh… talking to Borie. think I might be pregnant."
"Why?" Bowers squinted at Gale.
"Well…" Gale blushed. "Wash and I, we—"
"No," Bowers shook her head. "Why Borie? There's a real OB/GYN *literally eight-hundred yards that way."
Gale gulped. In retrospect, that would have been the smart move. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm."
"Shima, why are you still here?" Jersey gave the lithe girl in her submicron skirt a sideways look.
Shimakaze shrugged.
"You're not even in my chain of command," Jersey couldn't believe it, but she was actually feeling a shred of deep revulsion boiling away deep in her propulsion plant. Was this what Arizona felt like all the time? Is this what it was like to be… crochety? "I couldn't yell at you if I wanted to."
Shimakaze shrugged again. "I'm bored."
"Well get out of here!" barked Jersey.
"Can I watch?"
"Can you watch?" Jersey scowled with a voice somewhere between confusion and anger.
Shimakaze nodded with an innocence unbecoming of a girl who most strippers would consider obscenely lewd—though probably out of self-serving business reasons rather than moral uprightness. "My netflix is out."
"Oh," Jersey's voice snapped back to its usual half-asleep half-bored register. "Yeah, go for it."
"Arigato~" Shimakaze shuffled off to find a nice corner to watch from.
"Anyways," Jersey pivoted on her sneaker to glare down at her three destroyers. "I've given you little shits a hell of a lot of slack, and you all know goddamn why."
The three Fletchers were silent, but a look of solemn understanding passed over their small faces.
"But today isn't my day, it's Mutsu's, understood?"
"Aye, Commander!" barked Hoel.
"This goes for all of you," said Jersey. "This day will be perfect for her. If there are antics or fuckups, you will not be the source."
The destroyers nodded solemnly.
"And if you set one fucking toe past the line," said Jersey. The battleship was barking at her own girls, but she would be the first to admit her tirade was directed at least partially back at her. "So help me god, I will make you gnaw it off and eat it."
"Oh! Good one!" Shimakaze applauded.
Jersey glanced off at nothing in particular. "The fuck is with this base?"
Balancing that many ships without compromising defense was a task beyond any mere mortal. Goto was honestly surprised Ooyodo hadn't vetoed the transfer requests. He wouldn't have blamed her if she did, the poor girl already ran twenty-four hours a day. But if she gave that easily, she just wouldn't be Ooyodo. The cruiser had somehow found a few more hours in the day to balance out deployment schedules and intimidated reality into letting her plan work.
Goto smiled at the frantically vibrating cruiser. He might be fighting this war, but she was winning it. Which reminded him… there was a call he had to make. A call he'd been putting off for far too long. And now that he could barely see his own computer, it was the perfect time.
"Gonna get some air," he said to Ooyodo. "Need anything?"
The cruiser's only response was to thrust one of her sixty-four ounce coffee mugs in his direction and grunt. Goto smiled, and gave her head a gentle caress. She didn't say anything, but she seemed to enjoy it. Her spreadsheeting took on a slightly more relaxed tempo for a second or two.
Goto excused himself and found a secluded awning near one of the bulling doors. He was pretty sure everyone on the base knew what he was going to say, but he still wanted some sense of prosperity. He tucked Ooyodo's massive mug under his arm and dialed his phone.
"It's Kongou DESS~" Kongou's cheery voice bounced through the tinny speaker. "Who is this, dess?"
"You still haven't figured out call-recognition?"
"Teitoku!" Kongou almost blew out his eardrum. "No, I haven't. That way… every time I get a call… I can pretend it's you, dess! At least for a while, dess…" her voice trailed off.
Goto smiled. Kongou was crazier than a whole forest of frogs. But she'd always made him smile on the darkest days. Part of him thought she was doing it for just that reason. "Kongou, about the wedding… I understand you gave up your dibs."
"Of course I did!" said Kongou. "If you saw how Mutsu and her Admiral look at each other… I don't know why I ever claimed dibs in the first place, Dess!" Her voice faltered for a moment. "The love… the love of an Admiral and his battleship is too pure to get between, dess."
"I know," said Goto. "Kongou… I love you and you know it."
Kongou giggled, and he could just picture her curling her skirt around her little finger. "I know, dess."
"And if it were just you and me," said Goto, "I'd bend you over a dess until you couldn't keep a steady course if your life depended on it."
Kongou hummed a wordless sigh of bliss.
"But…" Goto tugged at is collar, trying to force the mental image of marital bliss with Kongou from his mind. "But your life does depend on it. Millions do."
"I know," said Kongou with a sad sigh.
"If it was just you and me…" Goto sighed. "When it's just you and me…"
"Babies, Dess." Said Kongou. There was no arguing with her.
Goto smiled. "Babies. And a ring."
She also didn't know why—after her first try resulted not in a comforting one line or two, but a tiny scrawled message reading 'oh god, why?'—she decided to press on and try another brand. And another. And another. And then those inexplicably unmarked ones that Kirishima had on hand, but refused to explain where she got them from. Gale had gotten a plethora of responses, from 'gurl you cray' to a very tiny picture of an elderly woman in a bright blue shirt staring with a bewildered expression. And those were among the most helpful of the various responses Gale had gotten, things got progressively worse from there.
Gale had even tried going to Vestal. God knows why, the poor girl knew less about… being a girl than even Gale did. She'd even had to scribble over some of the pictures in her textbook with sharpie just so she could read it, apparently there were some… rather graphic depictions of childbirth that made the old coal-burner queasy. Besides, Vestal didn't have any hydrophones, so she couldn't have helped even if she wanted to.
Luckily, Gale happened to knew someone who did have hydrophones. Unluckily, she was Sarah Gale and even her lucky days somehow managed to screw her over. Wash was on coastal patrol—the closest thing to light duty a pregnant battleship could receive—with her escort at the moment, and Tenryuu's kids were ranging even further afield. That left only one destroyer on base Gale was even remotely comfortable poking around her middle.
Which is why she was sitting on the edge of a bed that hadn't been made in months, stripped to the waist with her pants unbuttoned while Borie squished her face against the bottom part of her belly. At least the little destroyer was wearing some form of clothing. But like all boons in the poor sailor's life, even that found a way to screw her over.
When Borie heard she was going to be providing medical advise, the little shit wasted no time finding a labcoat. Unfortunately, they don't make labcoats in subminiature-clothes-adverse-destroyer size, so she'd had to get creative with folding and rolling. And as far as Gale could tell, it was the only thing the little destroyer was wearing.
"Dammit, Borie!" Gale scowled at the little destroyer squishing against her pelvis. She could always tell when a Kanmusu was touching her, their skin was always a little cool. It was like touching brushed steel on a brisk day. Gale loved the tingly cool sensation when Wash kissed her down there… much less so when Borie was the one doing the touching.
"Shush!" Borie managed to somehow hiss in a German accent as thick was it was horrible. "Zeh Doktor isz Verking!"
"No you're not!" Said Gale. "You've just been lying there!"
"Doing zeh research!"
"You were snoring twenty minutes ago!"
Borie blinked. "Um…" Her accent vanished as her little destroyer brain scrambled to think of an alibi. "W… would you believe… um… active sonar?"
Gale sighed. At this point, she'd lost all grasp on reality and she honestly would have taken the little destroyer's excuse at face value if she'd just sold it better. "C'mon, Borie. Am I pregnant or not?"
"I think so," said the destroyer.
Gale's heart caught in her throat. Even if she could find the words to express what she was feeling… she could barely breath, let alone speak.
"You're really comfy," continued Borie. She tried to thrust a finger to make a point, but only succeeded in whipping herself in the face with her oversized sleeve. "And when I hug you I want to nap."
"W…wait," Gale's euprhoria came crashing down as reality suddenly reasserted itself. Or… as much of reality was could exist when talking to a half-naked, century old destroyer in the form of a pre-teen. "I… is that all you're going off?"
"It's the most relevant evidence," said Borie. "To me."
"Borie," Gale scowled and pulled her T-shirt back on. "I'm going to count to three—"
"Four," said Borie.
"What?"
"Four."
"Borie!" Gale huffed.
"Fouuuur," Borie smirked and held up four fingers.
Slowly, Gale's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "W-wait," her voice was the palest shadow of its former self. "B-borie… are you saying that…" her mouth was suddenly dry as bone. "I'm having… quadruplets?"
"Is that what you call four babies?" asked Borie.
Gale nodded, idly clutching at her slim, trim middle. Four babies… she knew what they said about American shipbuilding efficiency, but four! Plus however many Wash was carrying! She was starting to feel very faint indeed. "Yeah."
"Oh, then no."
Gale froze. A moment later, she glared daggers at the little destroyer. "Borie, the fuck?"
"I'm a destroyer!" Borie roared with as much volume as her little lungs could supply. "I kill subs with knives! I do not know how to doctor!"
"But…"
"Do you want to see my medical licences?" Borie shoved a scrap of construction paper covered in little crayon scribbles.
"Borie," Gale tuned over the 'licence'. "This just says 'I smart'."
"Mmm," Borie hopped onto the bed next to Gale and smiled. "You had a medical problem and you came to me. I am the smart one here."
Gale scowled, but couldn't say anything in return. After all… the little naked shit had a point. Instead, the sailor silently collected her uniform, tugged it straight in a futile attempt to recapture some of her dignity, and strode out the door with her chin held high. But because her luck hadn't changed from its miserably non-existent state, the moment Gale left the destroyer dorms and before she could come up with any alibi, she ran into her friend from her NCO days.
"'Ay…. Gale…." Yeoman Bowers panted with her hands on her sweat-slick knees. Bowers PT uniform was drenched in sweat, even in the brisk Washington weather, and her short ponytail was unraveling into a slick rat-tail of brown down her neck.
"Jen, you look like hell," Gale chuckled to herself, thinking back to her old days of trying to somehow match Wash's impossible figure.
"'know," Bowers closed her eyes and wiped a waterfall of sweat off her brow. "I hate running!"
"Then why…"
"Williams gave me… new orders." Bowers gulped down water with shaking hands, spilling some of it on her already-soaking shirt. "New orders."
"You have a job now?" Gale smiled. Among the yeomen, Bowers' reputation for skating was mythic. She was pretty sure she'd never actually seen her friend do anything. "What's that got to do with running?"
"Yeoman," gasped Bowers. "For… Commander Jersey."
"Oh!" Gale winced. Wash might be a goddess in human form, but at least her figure was somewhat attainable. Jersey… that woman would send a Greek goddess crying to the gym.
"What're you doing?" Bowers forced herself to keep moving, even if it was just a lazy stroll now that her legs had turned to jelly.
For a moment, Gale contemplated lying. But then she decided the truth might be some much-needed brightness in her friend's day. "Uh… talking to Borie. think I might be pregnant."
"Why?" Bowers squinted at Gale.
"Well…" Gale blushed. "Wash and I, we—"
"No," Bowers shook her head. "Why Borie? There's a real OB/GYN *literally eight-hundred yards that way."
Gale gulped. In retrospect, that would have been the smart move. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm."
—|—|—
New Jersey stalked down the row of assembled destroyers with a dour look on her face. Four destroyers who'd consumed their own body weight in sugar products did their darnedest to stand at full military attention. Three of them were her Taffies, the fourth was Shimakaze. Apparently the ill-clothed super-destroyer tagged along because she, quote "had nothing better to do, Ou!" unquote."Shima, why are you still here?" Jersey gave the lithe girl in her submicron skirt a sideways look.
Shimakaze shrugged.
"You're not even in my chain of command," Jersey couldn't believe it, but she was actually feeling a shred of deep revulsion boiling away deep in her propulsion plant. Was this what Arizona felt like all the time? Is this what it was like to be… crochety? "I couldn't yell at you if I wanted to."
Shimakaze shrugged again. "I'm bored."
"Well get out of here!" barked Jersey.
"Can I watch?"
"Can you watch?" Jersey scowled with a voice somewhere between confusion and anger.
Shimakaze nodded with an innocence unbecoming of a girl who most strippers would consider obscenely lewd—though probably out of self-serving business reasons rather than moral uprightness. "My netflix is out."
"Oh," Jersey's voice snapped back to its usual half-asleep half-bored register. "Yeah, go for it."
"Arigato~" Shimakaze shuffled off to find a nice corner to watch from.
"Anyways," Jersey pivoted on her sneaker to glare down at her three destroyers. "I've given you little shits a hell of a lot of slack, and you all know goddamn why."
The three Fletchers were silent, but a look of solemn understanding passed over their small faces.
"But today isn't my day, it's Mutsu's, understood?"
"Aye, Commander!" barked Hoel.
"This goes for all of you," said Jersey. "This day will be perfect for her. If there are antics or fuckups, you will not be the source."
The destroyers nodded solemnly.
"And if you set one fucking toe past the line," said Jersey. The battleship was barking at her own girls, but she would be the first to admit her tirade was directed at least partially back at her. "So help me god, I will make you gnaw it off and eat it."
"Oh! Good one!" Shimakaze applauded.
Jersey glanced off at nothing in particular. "The fuck is with this base?"
—|—|—
Ooyodo had just finished her morning coffee. Admiral Goto knew this because he could feel the vibrations through the floor. How exactly she could function with that little blood in her coffee was beyond him. Even at his side of the office, the vibrations were so intense he could barely read his e-mail. He couldn't say he blamed her. Every ship in the Japanese Self-defense force—plus half the Royal Navy, a good chunk of the United States Navy, and all of the Regina Marina—had requested to attend.Balancing that many ships without compromising defense was a task beyond any mere mortal. Goto was honestly surprised Ooyodo hadn't vetoed the transfer requests. He wouldn't have blamed her if she did, the poor girl already ran twenty-four hours a day. But if she gave that easily, she just wouldn't be Ooyodo. The cruiser had somehow found a few more hours in the day to balance out deployment schedules and intimidated reality into letting her plan work.
Goto smiled at the frantically vibrating cruiser. He might be fighting this war, but she was winning it. Which reminded him… there was a call he had to make. A call he'd been putting off for far too long. And now that he could barely see his own computer, it was the perfect time.
"Gonna get some air," he said to Ooyodo. "Need anything?"
The cruiser's only response was to thrust one of her sixty-four ounce coffee mugs in his direction and grunt. Goto smiled, and gave her head a gentle caress. She didn't say anything, but she seemed to enjoy it. Her spreadsheeting took on a slightly more relaxed tempo for a second or two.
Goto excused himself and found a secluded awning near one of the bulling doors. He was pretty sure everyone on the base knew what he was going to say, but he still wanted some sense of prosperity. He tucked Ooyodo's massive mug under his arm and dialed his phone.
"It's Kongou DESS~" Kongou's cheery voice bounced through the tinny speaker. "Who is this, dess?"
"You still haven't figured out call-recognition?"
"Teitoku!" Kongou almost blew out his eardrum. "No, I haven't. That way… every time I get a call… I can pretend it's you, dess! At least for a while, dess…" her voice trailed off.
Goto smiled. Kongou was crazier than a whole forest of frogs. But she'd always made him smile on the darkest days. Part of him thought she was doing it for just that reason. "Kongou, about the wedding… I understand you gave up your dibs."
"Of course I did!" said Kongou. "If you saw how Mutsu and her Admiral look at each other… I don't know why I ever claimed dibs in the first place, Dess!" Her voice faltered for a moment. "The love… the love of an Admiral and his battleship is too pure to get between, dess."
"I know," said Goto. "Kongou… I love you and you know it."
Kongou giggled, and he could just picture her curling her skirt around her little finger. "I know, dess."
"And if it were just you and me," said Goto, "I'd bend you over a dess until you couldn't keep a steady course if your life depended on it."
Kongou hummed a wordless sigh of bliss.
"But…" Goto tugged at is collar, trying to force the mental image of marital bliss with Kongou from his mind. "But your life does depend on it. Millions do."
"I know," said Kongou with a sad sigh.
"If it was just you and me…" Goto sighed. "When it's just you and me…"
"Babies, Dess." Said Kongou. There was no arguing with her.
Goto smiled. "Babies. And a ring."
- Location
- Nowhere
I see Jersey may have to "convince" Goto too...
I'm not sure what there is to "convince" Goto about. He and Dess are aware of their mutual love for one another and plan to marry, just after the Abyssal War is concluded so as to satisfy their personal senses of Duty.
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
I can understand this happening with Wash and Mutsu, but Gale doesn't have MSSB to make the tests act like that. Then again, it could be confirming that she is pregnant and the MSSB is coming from the babybote.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
I don't think it works if they're both aware and are more or less fine with waiting.
EDIT: Dammit, Sendai! You're not even here!
Last edited:
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Sendai: Because I am that awesome of a ninja!
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Nagato: Oh lay it off already Yasen-Baka.
She must be planning something then.
Rajvik_wolfboy
Wolf amongst the stars.
- Location
- Florida
And the problem here is what?
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
You may want to check the vents. I suspect a Ree infestation.
"No, Lieutenant, your men are already dead."
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
???: Dessss~