Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
And look at her, she just slipped out so easily!
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
That pun was bad and you should feel bad.
SeaSirocco
Formerly 'Sanae Aran' / Aspiring Artist
- Location
- The Seaside
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I guess you could say it was an easy berth.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Write like, a New Year's Special, Poi.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
New Years fallout? As in, the messes left over from New Years is now finally being put back in order.
Snowflake
- Location
- 'Murica
Battleship New Jersey collapsed into the wreckage of what'd once been a queen-sized bed with a thunderous crash. Battered framework buckled under her immense weight, driving wedges into the ruined concrete that'd once made up the floor and filling the air with fine gray dust. She was naked, the only thing covering her vast, sinewy, and nautically perfect body was a thick film of sweat from nearly an hour of the most brutal quote "lovemaking" unquote imaginable.
Her mouth was full of hot blood and hotter oil, but she could barely taste the coppery bite with her mangled stump of a tongue. Teeth belonging to… someone… sloshed in the bloody slurry. She scowled, running the shredded organ that'd once been her tongue over the cool enamel. One of them was definitely hers, it had the same razor-sharp edges and fine face-hardened surface she was used to. The other was too badly mangled and distorted to even tell which end was which, which hinted towards it being Musashi's. American metallurgy was never so feeble.
Jersey spat them both out. She was a battleship, was was Musashi. Replacing a few teeth and scraps of tongue was such a minor repair it was hardly worth mentioning. It'd be done by the morning, if not earlier.
"Holy Hannah," Jersey ran the back of her hand across her bloody mouth. Her knuckles were torn open down to bare glistening steel, and she was flat-out missing the last joint of her ring finger. "So that's what sex is like."
"Mmm," Beside her, the naked chocolate form of Musashi purred in agreement. Her breasts heaved with each breath, vast and round and—Jersey felt compelled to mention—exceedingly jiggly. Her own super-sixteens were far more structurally sound, even without the help of her usual fitted bra.
It was strange, looking at the Yamato like this. She was utterly naked, with only the forged-iron clamps holding her snowy updo in place to garnish her impossibly feminine form. There wasn't so much as a shred of cloth hiding those monstrous rifles, dozen kampon boilers, or mighty shafts from the American's cutting gaze.
Jersey felt certain that she should be enraged by a primal lust, that she should want nothing more than to mount the Japanese super battleship like a conquer and rail her until she begged—begged—to sign a formal surrender on the Iowa's own quarterdeck. But… she didn't.
Jersey spat out a mouthful of Japanese shaft oil, scowling at the putrid taste. Right now, what she wanted more than anything was to break out those beers Prinz Eugen had provided and put on a move. She'd picked out Terminator 2 from the base library, and she was eager to see how they beat Arnie this time around.
"Ara~Ara~" Musashi let out a purr dripping in pure refined sex. She crossed her deliciously creamy legs, momentarily hiding the shaft galleries Jersey had so ravaged with a coy smirk. "Spent so soon, American?"
Jersey flashed the teeth she had left in a predator's grin. Wisky was gone. Iowa was still a museum, a parts-hulk in all but name just waiting to die. Mo was… Mo wasn't here right now. Jersey was the only ship around to defend the honor of her class, of her country. She would do her duty, no matter the cost.
"Oh," Jersey rolled over, pinning Musashi's legs with her own and planting her arms against the Japanese girl's mighty forearms. "I could go all week," She bent down, planting a furious kiss on Musashi's lips with all the limitless might American Industrial Supremacy could bring to bear. Her breasts collided with the Yamato's mighty eighteens with a thunderous cacophony of metal-on-metal. "How 'bout you?"
Musashi didn't bother voicing a reply. Not that she could with Jersey's tongue so forcefully violating her mouth like Oppenheimer's light. She didn't need to, she arched her back, pressing her shafts against Jersey's trim—but startlingly sensitive—aft.
Frisco and Lou had managed to not only scrounge up a kotatsu for the room, but also found some delightfully soft and warm pajamas that fit even the German cruiser's decidedly non-treaty-compliant proportions. And, while looking for some proper beer to give New Jersey for… what she now realized was a social call less reliant on the quality of said beer than she first anticipated, she'd picked what was quite possibly the most delightful product of American consumer culture.
Pudding cups!
Prinz Eugen always loved it when they served pudding in the mess, and now she could have some whenever she wanted! The vanilla ones were her favorite thus far, although the chocolate swirl ones were a close second.
Of course, delicious as they were, pudding cups weren't the main reason this was such a fine evening. The main reason was that her two best friends in all the world were snuggled under the warmth of a heated Japanese table by her side. Lou was on the left, and Frisco on the right, both sound asleep against the soft pillow of her bosom.
Mmm, it was a good evening.
It wasn't often that he wore a suit of course. At Cameron's age opportunities to wear a nice suit without looking painfully ostentatious were few and far between—mostly Easter and of course Prom. But when he did have to break out the nice threads, he always felt at ease in a nice, comfortable, fitted suit.
When his girlfriend-who-was-also-a-warship sent him a text—and several frantic voicemails—asking him to show up on-base "looking nice" he'd been eager to show up and—hopefully—knock her socks off.
That was before he learned she would be looking nice too. As in full dinner-dress bluesnice. As in 'the kind of outfit that took several tens of thousands of dollars and several months of lead-time to acquire' nice. It made him feel painfully under-dressed just looking at her, which wasn't something he was used to feeling at all.
On the other hand… he did have to admit, 'laska looked totally gorgeous her iner uniform. Her long skirt and fitted gold cummerbund really showed off the curve of her hips, and the black of her coat really drew out the beautifully snowy glow of her long white hair.
"Are you, uh, sure this is necessary?" said Cameron.
"Yeah," Alaska wrung her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. Or to be more accurate, she stared at the collection of medals on her lapel. In Cameron's opinion, it was a very nice collection. Maybe not as big as Texas' or Jersey's, but but still a proud display of faithful service. Alaska, however, did not seem to share that opinion, and kept nervously fiddling with the little awards.
"'Laska," Cameron put aside his own discomfort to sneak up behind his girlfriend for a hug. He felt her fighting dissolve the moment his arms closed around her thin waist, but her nervous energy remained intact. "You look fine. Really."
"I…" Alaska sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned into her boyfriend's embrace. "I… I guess. But…" She turned, moving in Cameron's arms to face him. "I'm really nervous."
"Don't be," said Cameron, trying not to think about how nervous he was. "You'll do fine, I'm sure."
"I… I know," said Alaska with a blush. "But… you know who we're calling, right?"
Cameron shrugged. To be honest, that part of Alaska's breathless rambling had been impossible to decipher. "Some… admiral's daughter from Japan, right?"
Alaska stared at her boyfriend with a flat glare. "N—no. Well, yes. But also… Jane is… basically boat god right now."
Cameron chuckled. Alaska's nervousness was as endearingly adorable as everything else she did. He brushed her hair back and gave her the gentlest of kisses. "I'm sure you'll do fine." He said. "Now… how can I help?"
"Just…" Alaska blushed and smoothed her uniform. "It's about time. Can you start the call?"
"Of course." Cameron darted over to the laptop set up across the conference room. On paper, his only real job was to start the skype call and change Alaska's slides. That, and provide his girlfriend with all the moral support she needed. He wouldn't have it any other way. "In five… four…" He held out fingers as he counted down. "Three… two…" he swallowed the last number and clicked the call button.
Alaska snapped to attention as the laptop filled with the image of an adorable girl in shark-themed pajamas apparently huddled on her bed. "Hey, 'laska!"
"Hi, Miss Richardson," Said Alaska. "Uh… Jane?"
"Jane's fine," said Jane Richardson. "How's the gulf?"
Alaska shrugged, "I've got Cameron, so it's all good."
Jane giggled, and Cameron had to smile. "So, you said you wanted my input on something?"
"Yes," said Alaska with a nod. "I've been… well… me and 'tago have been running an operation here. Cameron?"
Cameron nodded, and pulled up the presentation onto the screen behind Alaska. The title card read "Operation: Get Mom Laid" with a subtitle "by 'laska and 'tago."
Jane giggled over the laptop. "lemme get my chart."
Alaska squealed with joy, and Cameron was quick to calm her down with a hug. He really loved her, Jane could tell. It was like looking at her dad and Mutsu, only… without all the coy teasing. They didn't play games like her parents did, they just… loved each other. It was really cute, and Jane was happy she hadn't even had to help!
"Well," Jane yawned again. "It's way past my bedtime. I'm gonna have to say goodnight."
"Okay," said Alaska. "Thank you so much!" She added with a wave.
"Good night, Jane." Cameron waved too, but with one hand gently draped around his girlfriend's middle.
Jane leaned forwards to hug the laptop's screen, then closed the lid. And in so doing, met the gaze of a very small figure that'd apparently been standing behind the laptop's screen for at least a while.
Her limbs were stumpy like Minimu or Smolzona, her features all squished and small, but this newcomer's face seemed to be devoid of any features beyond her big blue eyes and untamed avalanche of snowy white hair.
"Muuuuuuu!" Minimu growled a warning from the toy shelf, brandishing a transparent orange chainsaw from one of Jane's lego sets—one of the tiny handful Mutsu hadn't 'borrowed' to fuel her pregnancy-induced building cravings.
The new arrival just looked from Jane to Minimu, her big blue eyes soaking up every detail. Finally, a mouth so small Jane hadn't even noticed its existence opened, and a single musical word floated out. "'laska?"
The poor thing sounded confused. Very confused. Utterly bewildered and lost, really. But… she didn't seem the slightest bit scared about it, or even upset. She was in a strange new world, and that was okay. Jane put the laptop on her bedside table to get a better look, but in so doing changed the balance of her mattresses' springs.
Any other girl would've handled the undulation without a thought, but this new arrival wasn't like the rest of Jane's miniature fleet. Her eyes went wide, her stubby little arms flailed in circles, and then she bounced onto her rump with a quietly surprised "'laska!"
Jane giggled, and in that moment knew what she would call the newest member of her fleet. "You okay, Snowflake?"
Snowflake thought for a second, then nodded. "'laska!" she said emphatically.
"Good," said Jane. "Now c'mon, it's time for bed."
Snowflake wobbled back onto her unsteady little feet and trotted over to the head of the bed. The, she patiently waited for Jane to get ready.
"You wanna sleep with me?" Said Jane as she turned off her reading lamp.
"'laska." The very small large cruiser nodded and nervously shuffled those tiny legs of hers.
"Okay," Jane pulled her covers up and let Snowflake cuddle up against her chest. "Good night!"
"'laska~"
It wasn't fun anymore, it'd stopped being fun hours ago. The Iowa had run her ragged, fucked her senseless—no. No that would've been a vast improvement of the situation. Jersey had instead merely fucked her until Musashi's every sense was overwhelmed with sheer refined pain.
She just wanted it to end. She didn't even care if all that beer Jersey had brought along was left untouched. She wanted to fall against her bed and remain totally immobile until at least some small part of her body stopped throbbing in pain. Maybe if she was truly fortunate, she'd even be able to sleep, but the Yamato doubted even her iron will could power through the anguished cries of every damage-controllman and nerve in her body long enough to embrace the sweet release of sleep.
"So," Beside her, the vast naked form of battleship New Jersey drew halting breaths of air choked with concrete dust and burnt oil. Her vast, perfectly full bosom rose and fell with each needy gasp in ways that would've set Musashi's mind afire with carnal desire even even the tiniest part of the battleship's mind was capable of registering things other than pain. "Ready for…" Jersey ran a shaking hand through her long strawberry hair, her mouth more bleeding gums than teeth by now. "What is it… round… twenty?"
"Twenty—" Musashi's voice was a raspy croak. Not that her counterpart's was much better. Jersey's dusky contralto had deteriorated to a desperate gasp in the past few hours. "Twenty-one, I think."
She forced a smile onto her split, bleeding lips. She wanted this to end, but she would not—would not—allow this American to win. Not when her beloved sister lay silent in the watery deaths, unable to even defend her own honor. For the sister she loved, for the country she held dear, she would not allow herself to be cowed. "You're not—" she stopped, coughing raspy splinters of twisted metal that could've easily come from either warship. "—not giving up, are you?"
Jersey rolled over. She didn't bother to try and pin the Yamato down and loom above her, she just sort of flopped onto Musashi's body with a pathetic grunt. "Never," hissed the Iowa.
Her mouth was full of hot blood and hotter oil, but she could barely taste the coppery bite with her mangled stump of a tongue. Teeth belonging to… someone… sloshed in the bloody slurry. She scowled, running the shredded organ that'd once been her tongue over the cool enamel. One of them was definitely hers, it had the same razor-sharp edges and fine face-hardened surface she was used to. The other was too badly mangled and distorted to even tell which end was which, which hinted towards it being Musashi's. American metallurgy was never so feeble.
Jersey spat them both out. She was a battleship, was was Musashi. Replacing a few teeth and scraps of tongue was such a minor repair it was hardly worth mentioning. It'd be done by the morning, if not earlier.
"Holy Hannah," Jersey ran the back of her hand across her bloody mouth. Her knuckles were torn open down to bare glistening steel, and she was flat-out missing the last joint of her ring finger. "So that's what sex is like."
"Mmm," Beside her, the naked chocolate form of Musashi purred in agreement. Her breasts heaved with each breath, vast and round and—Jersey felt compelled to mention—exceedingly jiggly. Her own super-sixteens were far more structurally sound, even without the help of her usual fitted bra.
It was strange, looking at the Yamato like this. She was utterly naked, with only the forged-iron clamps holding her snowy updo in place to garnish her impossibly feminine form. There wasn't so much as a shred of cloth hiding those monstrous rifles, dozen kampon boilers, or mighty shafts from the American's cutting gaze.
Jersey felt certain that she should be enraged by a primal lust, that she should want nothing more than to mount the Japanese super battleship like a conquer and rail her until she begged—begged—to sign a formal surrender on the Iowa's own quarterdeck. But… she didn't.
Jersey spat out a mouthful of Japanese shaft oil, scowling at the putrid taste. Right now, what she wanted more than anything was to break out those beers Prinz Eugen had provided and put on a move. She'd picked out Terminator 2 from the base library, and she was eager to see how they beat Arnie this time around.
"Ara~Ara~" Musashi let out a purr dripping in pure refined sex. She crossed her deliciously creamy legs, momentarily hiding the shaft galleries Jersey had so ravaged with a coy smirk. "Spent so soon, American?"
Jersey flashed the teeth she had left in a predator's grin. Wisky was gone. Iowa was still a museum, a parts-hulk in all but name just waiting to die. Mo was… Mo wasn't here right now. Jersey was the only ship around to defend the honor of her class, of her country. She would do her duty, no matter the cost.
"Oh," Jersey rolled over, pinning Musashi's legs with her own and planting her arms against the Japanese girl's mighty forearms. "I could go all week," She bent down, planting a furious kiss on Musashi's lips with all the limitless might American Industrial Supremacy could bring to bear. Her breasts collided with the Yamato's mighty eighteens with a thunderous cacophony of metal-on-metal. "How 'bout you?"
Musashi didn't bother voicing a reply. Not that she could with Jersey's tongue so forcefully violating her mouth like Oppenheimer's light. She didn't need to, she arched her back, pressing her shafts against Jersey's trim—but startlingly sensitive—aft.
—|—|—
Meanwhile, elsewhere on the base, heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen was having a pleasant evening. Yes, she could barely hear herself think over the constant roar colliding metal and bellowed racial epithets, and barely coherent grunting, but that didn't matter to her one bit.Frisco and Lou had managed to not only scrounge up a kotatsu for the room, but also found some delightfully soft and warm pajamas that fit even the German cruiser's decidedly non-treaty-compliant proportions. And, while looking for some proper beer to give New Jersey for… what she now realized was a social call less reliant on the quality of said beer than she first anticipated, she'd picked what was quite possibly the most delightful product of American consumer culture.
Pudding cups!
Prinz Eugen always loved it when they served pudding in the mess, and now she could have some whenever she wanted! The vanilla ones were her favorite thus far, although the chocolate swirl ones were a close second.
Of course, delicious as they were, pudding cups weren't the main reason this was such a fine evening. The main reason was that her two best friends in all the world were snuggled under the warmth of a heated Japanese table by her side. Lou was on the left, and Frisco on the right, both sound asleep against the soft pillow of her bosom.
Mmm, it was a good evening.
—|—|—
"'laska," Cameron tugged nervously at his tie and tried to smooth the black satin fabric against his chest. Under normal circumstances, he would've felt totally at home in a suit and tie. He wore the later every Sunday, and he had the talented employees of his mom's bridal boutique—and… you know… his mom—to help him with the former.It wasn't often that he wore a suit of course. At Cameron's age opportunities to wear a nice suit without looking painfully ostentatious were few and far between—mostly Easter and of course Prom. But when he did have to break out the nice threads, he always felt at ease in a nice, comfortable, fitted suit.
When his girlfriend-who-was-also-a-warship sent him a text—and several frantic voicemails—asking him to show up on-base "looking nice" he'd been eager to show up and—hopefully—knock her socks off.
That was before he learned she would be looking nice too. As in full dinner-dress bluesnice. As in 'the kind of outfit that took several tens of thousands of dollars and several months of lead-time to acquire' nice. It made him feel painfully under-dressed just looking at her, which wasn't something he was used to feeling at all.
On the other hand… he did have to admit, 'laska looked totally gorgeous her iner uniform. Her long skirt and fitted gold cummerbund really showed off the curve of her hips, and the black of her coat really drew out the beautifully snowy glow of her long white hair.
"Are you, uh, sure this is necessary?" said Cameron.
"Yeah," Alaska wrung her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. Or to be more accurate, she stared at the collection of medals on her lapel. In Cameron's opinion, it was a very nice collection. Maybe not as big as Texas' or Jersey's, but but still a proud display of faithful service. Alaska, however, did not seem to share that opinion, and kept nervously fiddling with the little awards.
"'Laska," Cameron put aside his own discomfort to sneak up behind his girlfriend for a hug. He felt her fighting dissolve the moment his arms closed around her thin waist, but her nervous energy remained intact. "You look fine. Really."
"I…" Alaska sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned into her boyfriend's embrace. "I… I guess. But…" She turned, moving in Cameron's arms to face him. "I'm really nervous."
"Don't be," said Cameron, trying not to think about how nervous he was. "You'll do fine, I'm sure."
"I… I know," said Alaska with a blush. "But… you know who we're calling, right?"
Cameron shrugged. To be honest, that part of Alaska's breathless rambling had been impossible to decipher. "Some… admiral's daughter from Japan, right?"
Alaska stared at her boyfriend with a flat glare. "N—no. Well, yes. But also… Jane is… basically boat god right now."
Cameron chuckled. Alaska's nervousness was as endearingly adorable as everything else she did. He brushed her hair back and gave her the gentlest of kisses. "I'm sure you'll do fine." He said. "Now… how can I help?"
"Just…" Alaska blushed and smoothed her uniform. "It's about time. Can you start the call?"
"Of course." Cameron darted over to the laptop set up across the conference room. On paper, his only real job was to start the skype call and change Alaska's slides. That, and provide his girlfriend with all the moral support she needed. He wouldn't have it any other way. "In five… four…" He held out fingers as he counted down. "Three… two…" he swallowed the last number and clicked the call button.
Alaska snapped to attention as the laptop filled with the image of an adorable girl in shark-themed pajamas apparently huddled on her bed. "Hey, 'laska!"
"Hi, Miss Richardson," Said Alaska. "Uh… Jane?"
"Jane's fine," said Jane Richardson. "How's the gulf?"
Alaska shrugged, "I've got Cameron, so it's all good."
Jane giggled, and Cameron had to smile. "So, you said you wanted my input on something?"
"Yes," said Alaska with a nod. "I've been… well… me and 'tago have been running an operation here. Cameron?"
Cameron nodded, and pulled up the presentation onto the screen behind Alaska. The title card read "Operation: Get Mom Laid" with a subtitle "by 'laska and 'tago."
Jane giggled over the laptop. "lemme get my chart."
—|—|—
Jane Richardson yawned as her two new friends from the Gulf finished their presentation. She had to admit, it was an extremely well-thought out plan. Every contingency was accounted for, every eventuality planned and prepared for… Jane doubted she could do better herself, and she was quick to express such to her friends from Louisiana.Alaska squealed with joy, and Cameron was quick to calm her down with a hug. He really loved her, Jane could tell. It was like looking at her dad and Mutsu, only… without all the coy teasing. They didn't play games like her parents did, they just… loved each other. It was really cute, and Jane was happy she hadn't even had to help!
"Well," Jane yawned again. "It's way past my bedtime. I'm gonna have to say goodnight."
"Okay," said Alaska. "Thank you so much!" She added with a wave.
"Good night, Jane." Cameron waved too, but with one hand gently draped around his girlfriend's middle.
Jane leaned forwards to hug the laptop's screen, then closed the lid. And in so doing, met the gaze of a very small figure that'd apparently been standing behind the laptop's screen for at least a while.
Her limbs were stumpy like Minimu or Smolzona, her features all squished and small, but this newcomer's face seemed to be devoid of any features beyond her big blue eyes and untamed avalanche of snowy white hair.
"Muuuuuuu!" Minimu growled a warning from the toy shelf, brandishing a transparent orange chainsaw from one of Jane's lego sets—one of the tiny handful Mutsu hadn't 'borrowed' to fuel her pregnancy-induced building cravings.
The new arrival just looked from Jane to Minimu, her big blue eyes soaking up every detail. Finally, a mouth so small Jane hadn't even noticed its existence opened, and a single musical word floated out. "'laska?"
The poor thing sounded confused. Very confused. Utterly bewildered and lost, really. But… she didn't seem the slightest bit scared about it, or even upset. She was in a strange new world, and that was okay. Jane put the laptop on her bedside table to get a better look, but in so doing changed the balance of her mattresses' springs.
Any other girl would've handled the undulation without a thought, but this new arrival wasn't like the rest of Jane's miniature fleet. Her eyes went wide, her stubby little arms flailed in circles, and then she bounced onto her rump with a quietly surprised "'laska!"
Jane giggled, and in that moment knew what she would call the newest member of her fleet. "You okay, Snowflake?"
Snowflake thought for a second, then nodded. "'laska!" she said emphatically.
"Good," said Jane. "Now c'mon, it's time for bed."
Snowflake wobbled back onto her unsteady little feet and trotted over to the head of the bed. The, she patiently waited for Jane to get ready.
"You wanna sleep with me?" Said Jane as she turned off her reading lamp.
"'laska." The very small large cruiser nodded and nervously shuffled those tiny legs of hers.
"Okay," Jane pulled her covers up and let Snowflake cuddle up against her chest. "Good night!"
"'laska~"
—|—|—
Battleship Musashi was in agony. Every. Single. Part. Of her ached. It felt like every single compartment was warped, every frame was buckled, every light and fuse aboard had shattered from the stress hours ago. Her shafts were aflame, run raw against destroyed bearings until even breathing was torture for her devastated propulsion plant.It wasn't fun anymore, it'd stopped being fun hours ago. The Iowa had run her ragged, fucked her senseless—no. No that would've been a vast improvement of the situation. Jersey had instead merely fucked her until Musashi's every sense was overwhelmed with sheer refined pain.
She just wanted it to end. She didn't even care if all that beer Jersey had brought along was left untouched. She wanted to fall against her bed and remain totally immobile until at least some small part of her body stopped throbbing in pain. Maybe if she was truly fortunate, she'd even be able to sleep, but the Yamato doubted even her iron will could power through the anguished cries of every damage-controllman and nerve in her body long enough to embrace the sweet release of sleep.
"So," Beside her, the vast naked form of battleship New Jersey drew halting breaths of air choked with concrete dust and burnt oil. Her vast, perfectly full bosom rose and fell with each needy gasp in ways that would've set Musashi's mind afire with carnal desire even even the tiniest part of the battleship's mind was capable of registering things other than pain. "Ready for…" Jersey ran a shaking hand through her long strawberry hair, her mouth more bleeding gums than teeth by now. "What is it… round… twenty?"
"Twenty—" Musashi's voice was a raspy croak. Not that her counterpart's was much better. Jersey's dusky contralto had deteriorated to a desperate gasp in the past few hours. "Twenty-one, I think."
She forced a smile onto her split, bleeding lips. She wanted this to end, but she would not—would not—allow this American to win. Not when her beloved sister lay silent in the watery deaths, unable to even defend her own honor. For the sister she loved, for the country she held dear, she would not allow herself to be cowed. "You're not—" she stopped, coughing raspy splinters of twisted metal that could've easily come from either warship. "—not giving up, are you?"
Jersey rolled over. She didn't bother to try and pin the Yamato down and loom above her, she just sort of flopped onto Musashi's body with a pathetic grunt. "Never," hissed the Iowa.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Inferior metallurgy does that to you.
Well, the Iowas do have more than twice your range. Lotta stamina, there.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
Interesting to know that InfoSec is good enough that neither Mushasi or Shinano have no clue that Yamato is already back and playing video games in a bunker somewhere or something.
Actually, is Goto the only one of the main cast who knows she's back? Or is Richardson aware as well? Is Jane for that matter?
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Mushi was the one playing video games in a bunker, as I recall.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Next thing you'll tell us is that Fubuki is not shipgirl Jesus.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
Hmm. Perhaps I am confusing myself then. Of course, that sort of categorical denial from JMPer could mean MANY things which I shall leave unsaid and officially state that, on account of authorial fiat, that Yams is not back then.
- Location
- Northish
Still not 100% convinced Jersey or Mushi actually knows what sex is. Also some seismologist is staring at a computer screen whispering "It makes no sense, where is it coming from?!"
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
No, no it's not. Jeebus, you're doing this so wrong...
inner?
...
You two are idiots. And I'm now highly worried that this won't even work it out of your system. You'll want to do this again, half for the sex, half for the dominance games.
- Location
- 'Murica
Jersey: Well... you're Army... so you're doing everything wrong-er.
Hey, Sara needs to get laid, and @Skywalker_T-65 isn't going fast enough for everyones' tastes.
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- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Just thank heavens that only those particular two battleships seem to have the grudge sex thing going on...
- Location
- Nowhere
Sara: Faster, honey! *moan*
(I REALLY need to go to bed...)
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- Location
- Nowhere
Iku knows just the way to make him speed up.
All: No!
Awww you're no fun...
All: No!
Awww you're no fun...
No it isn't. This is not remotely how you preform the Kirk Maneuver.
- Location
- Nowhere
Go AU and ask Iowa. She pulled it off twice.No it isn't. This is not remotely how you preform the Kirk Maneuver.
- Location
- Nowhere
Ftfy. But Iku is...