Fleetgirls at Floodtide (Azur Lane/1900s Alternate History)
- Thread starter Erien
- Start date
- Mature Alt. History Action
[X] [USS Texas]
Don't know what sort of issues she'd have. US BBs with a love for brawling is pretty common in AL
Don't know what sort of issues she'd have. US BBs with a love for brawling is pretty common in AL
[X] [USS Lafayette]
I better make this a very close vote.
I better make this a very close vote.
- Location
- Georgia
[X] [USS Texas]
Almost missed the vote, here.
Almost missed the vote, here.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
Maybe it's because I'm currently stuck helping run the Mess Decks, but my first thought is 'well, there goes the breakfast schedule'. Do you have *any* idea how annoying running a meal during Sea and Anchor detail is? Very!
Mood.
Cassin: "I remember the last thread, Admiral."
Shellback ceremonies here are *wierd*....
Shame requires you feel bad about what you did. As long as you show up on time and in the right uniform the next morning its all good.
Darn, you're on the wrong side of the peninsula from me.
See, Anderson and I are on the same wavelength.
She's Best girl.
[X] [USS Bunker Hill]
BEST GIRL.
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] [USS Bunker Hill]
partly because owl, partly because of Hill's reaction to food last quest and now we have a former luxury liner making dinner.
partly because owl, partly because of Hill's reaction to food last quest and now we have a former luxury liner making dinner.
[X] [USS Bunker Hill]
Can't wait to see best girl enjoy Leviathan's cooking.
Can't wait to see best girl enjoy Leviathan's cooking.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
NuclearConsensus
Herald of the Thorned One
- Location
- the Philippines
Doesn't Bunker Hill have 9 votes, albeit one with a differing format?
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
proposal to solve tie - show up to Texas trying to
thats just Texas dressed as Bunker Hill : p
thats just Texas dressed as Bunker Hill : p
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Eh, I can fit in both.
Dragontrapper
Homeless Draconis
- Location
- A Tower in the middle of nowhere
Texas: "Come on. Crack a smile. Laugh a little. Burn something down. Do something."
Bunker: "..."
Is the owl with Texas?
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bunker Hill.
I meant to say if we go to both due to a tie, is the Owl interacting with Texas?
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No. You aren't dragging them out of their ships until dinner.
2.4 - Hoo-manity
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[USS Bunker Hill]
Carriers were what you had been trained in, you would meet your new one as soon as possible. Only… you didn't find her, only an owl.
[USS Texas]
You may need those big guns of hers, especially if the Sirens decide to ambush you. Something was off about her though, wrong.
—
"I had planned on visiting the Bunker Hill, yes, but I had also planned on visiting the Texas so… that vessel first I suppose." I say to the diminutive warship. "You coming along?"
"Is water wet?"
"Until you feel it, no."
Cassin blinks, starting up at me. "...What?"
I smile, then look out towards the dock, distantly… I couldn't see the Texas. Even from my lofty perch, the Bunker Hill just across the way blocked all over ships from sight. The Essex class was truly something else.
"No, seriously, what?" Cassin continues.
Then I hear a car honk, and I cast my gaze down to the doc-
"Jesus tapdancing Christ." Cassin says in awe.
"Language." I think I say.
Leviathan was sitting on the trunk of a Duesenberg, her gloved hand raised in a wave towards us both. It was solid red, a perfect match for her dress. Without a speck of dirt or grime on her anywhere I could see. I make my way down the gangway, dodging several gawking sailors as I make my way over to Leviathan. "How'd you manage this?" I ask, coming to a stop just in front of the woman.
Leviathan slides off the trunk, her heels clicking against the concrete of the dock. "Oh, I made sure I was compensated for the selling of my remaining furniture. I've spent some time tuning it up to get it to run as I like ever since."
"What, does it run on coal now?" Cassin asks.
Leviathan smiles, turning her attention to the destroyer. "You may jog behind the car. Now, Anderson. What is our destination?" she asks, stepping around the vehicle and opening the passenger door.
"The Texas, if you would be so kind." Then I sit myself down.
"Of course," Leviathan replies, she closes the door gently, then walks around the front of the vehicle, her hand running across the metal, almost sensually as she does so. Without another word she moves into the driver's seat, cranks the engine, and then we take off.
Quite almost literally.
The car roars in mighty and terrible fury, and at once we are tearing down the docks. Around sailors, crates, machinery. She doesn't come close to hitting anything, but as my back is slammed against the seat and my remaining hand grips onto the dash for dear life, it doesn't matter much. The car swings into a right turn, and the vehicle screams down the dock, past the Bunker Hill, past the Intrepid, past several military police cars and at least one tank being loaded up before she comes to a sliding stop next to the Texas. I briefly glance back, wondering if you were going to see a MP chasing after the two of us. But it appears they aren't brave enough to try and write up a shipgirl for speeding.
I stepped out of the car, Leviathan was staring at me curiously as I did so. My feet remain steady, despite the brief insanity. Trying to keep your footing on a destroyer in the roiling arctic tended to grant one rather a rather good sense for stomach preservation… and balance. Adjusting the hat on my head, I look back at the carrier. "Tune ups?"
Leviathan smiles a very patient smile. "Did you expect my only hobby was models?" she then looks past me towards Texas. "I had heard of her, though until now I had never seen the vessel. Older than I am?"
"By a fair amount, though she's been refitted multiple times at this point, and she's been ably serving against the Sirens since 1918." I reply, then look at the ship myself. She sat, her hull a light gray and bristling with guns. Her crew was in the midst of lowering a new turret into place with a crane. That… was a surprise, I wasn't aware she was undergoing yet another refit, but then, this had been a rather slapdash thing even by naval standards.
Then I turn my head back at the sounds of slapping shoes against concrete, and Cassin comes to a sliding stop next to the car, a rather annoyed expression on her face.
"So you caught up then?" Leviathan asks innocently.
"Fuck o-"
"Oi, what're y'all doin' then?" a voice asks from directly behind me.
I turn, and find myself looking at an amazon. She wasn't as tall as Leviathan was, but then, I hadn't ever met a woman as tall as Leviathan was. But where Texas was only a few inches taller than me, she was bigger in just about every other category. Leather paints, a thick leather duster, and a white shirt tied together in the front that pushes up breasts roughly the size of Cassin's head. Twin revolvers sit on her hips beneath the coat, glinting in the morning sunlight, she shifts. Causing curly golden hair to bounce past her shoulders, blue eyes are lit with both curiosity and amusement, an interesting mix with her scarred face, including a rather nasty jagged one on her cheek roughly an inch wide that looks like… almost a blade wound. It starts on her lower left jaw and goes up just below her left eye. That wasn't the only scar on her, legs, arms, even what looked to be a puncture wound on the neck. It didn't seem to slow her down however. On her head, lastly, was a weathered looking stetson with BB-35 affixed to the side on a golden plate.
"Good morning Texas, I am to be your new Task Group commander." I greet, offering a hand forward.
Texas looks down at me quizzically, and only then do I realize she's carrying a rather sizable piece of metal on one shoulder. It's only a moment after that that I realize that it's a barrel to one of her turrets. Texas shifts the weight on her shoulder for a moment, then she lowers the barrel to the ground, holding her hand onto it for a moment so that it doesn't fall over and inadvertently create an extremely closed-casket funeral. Then she grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. "Well howdy there, you Anderson then?"
"Indeed, I wasn't aware you knew I was coming."
She releases my hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Just got back from that ol' brick building where the busyfolks run around in. Got told about it, so we're goin-" She pauses, looking around the dock for a moment. Nobody was paying much attention to the lot of you, too busy with work as the crane moved the turret into place. Texas then leans close, then jerks a thumb out towards the Atlantic.
"That's the idea." I reply. "Good to have you along, I served alongside you more than once in the ice packs. Though I never had the chance to meet you in person."
Texas frowns for a moment, studying my face. Then looks past me towards the-
"Oh, you were that crazy motherfucker!"
Cassin grins from ear to ear, rocking on her heels all the while. Texas disappears from sight, appearing again next to Cassin with a faint whip of air. Leviathan, for her part, takes a rather rapid step to the side as Texas's giant hand lands atop the destroyer's head. "Shit, yer alive? Figured you'd die trying to dogfight a plane at Pearl or somethin'."
"Pfft, they barely scratched me. Those Japs ain't anymore dangerous than the Sirens." Cassin brags. Then her eyes flit to me. "Anderson did most of the work though. Got real scratched up for it."
"Looks fine to me," Texas says, looking back at me.
I shift my right stump into view, and her eyes flit to it. At once… the smile and happiness on her face is gone. Replaced by an expressionless nothing that revealed less. Her hands slides off of Cassin's head, falling to her side, and she simply stares at the stump for a few moments. Then she smiles once more, "well shit, glad you're still movin' about. Always need tough ones in the Navy." She then looks at Leviathan. "This your new flattop then? She don't look too flat to me."
Leviathan smiles the practiced smile of an experienced hostess. "I am the USS Leviathan. I am ready and able for all combat operations. I expect you to provide proper escort as I accomplish my tasks."
"Escort?" Texas drawls, staring up at the carrier. "Ya think my guns are fer escort? Shit, you just use those little birds of yers to find whatever I need to blow up with my battery. Ain't nothin' gonna come close enough to scratch your pretty paint."
Silence then passes between them, carrier glaring at battleship.
Then Texas grins. "Nah, ain't the first time. Ah'll be able to keep up with ya too. They refitted my engines back in '41."
"Those new turrets?" Cassin asks.
Texas glances back at herself. "Swapping out for newer ones, the Navy doesn't want me with anything old. Got some other upgrades too."
"Oh? And what would those be?" I ask.
"Engines as ah said, got some work done on additional torpedo armor too. Ah'll be ready for just about anything those pricks throw at me out there."
"We'll be trusting you on that," I reply.
"'Course," Texas says after a moment. Smiling from ear to ear. "But I've gotta get back to getting all sorted, unless there was anythin' else?"
"You are invited to a Gala tonight upon my vessel, your attendance is mandatory. Wear your uniform." Leviathan says. Turning the dinner into a Gala and… adding a new requirement.
Texas arches a brow. "Gala?"
"Quite." Leviathan replies.
"Aight, ah'll see if I can't find the uniform, ah'll let the boss know." Then, with a grunt she hoists the barrel up onto her shoulder once more and makes her way to the ship.
"She's awesome." Cassin says quietly.
She's tired. But I don't say that. Instead you turn your attention to Leviathan. "The Bunker Hill next, if you don't mind."
—
Leviathan drove… far more calmly on the way back, perhaps it was a test originally. Or perhaps it was something she just had to get out of her system. But I reached the Bunker Hill in one piece regardless. From there… I found myself escorted to the bridge to meet Bunker Hill, where… I didn't.
I met the Captain of course, a redheaded man named O'Keefe. The ship was remarkably similar in a lot of ways to the Leviathan, notably different in others. For starters, she was a good deal larger, having been designed originally to be a carrier. She was also hellaciously busy. Not a single inch of her flight deck was free of planes, and from the looks of things it was less maintenance and more she was actually getting her planes for the first time.
The shipgirl however…
"Hoo."
Leviathan, Cassin, and Myself all found ourselves staring down at a small owl. It was sitting on top of the wheel and staring at us, its head tilting this way and that. It had a bandana wrapped around its… I wasn't sure if owls had a neck, and it had a tiny little navy cap on its head. The owl's eyes, golden, bored into me.
"This is… Bunker Hill?" I ask.
"Hoo."
O'Keefe clears his throat. "Her representative. Bubo, her…" The captain pauses, then shrugs his shoulders. "We're not entirely sure what, Admiral. It appeared when she did per the teachers at SCAHR. It isn't a regular bird, and anything we tell it… well, the ship responds. But Bunker herself doesn't leave her chambers."
"Ever?" Cassin asks.
O'Keefe shakes his head. "Not as long as I've been onboard, which is a good month now. Course, we haven't seen combat or the like, and the owl… Well, Bubo seems to keep an eye on things, and it understands us."
"... Are you implying that the owl is the shipgirl?"
"No sir, I'm saying it's a weird owl."
"Hoo."
I stare at the tiny bird. "There will be a dinner tonight on the Leviathan, attendance is mandatory. Do you… understand this? I will need Bunker Hill to appear in person."
The owl looks at me, blinks, then shakes its head rapidly.
…
Shipgirls.
—
[] [Force the issue]
I was an admiral, I would meet my charges.
[] [Leave her be]
She was a younger shipgirl, she would come out in time… of course, that made things more difficult.
Carriers were what you had been trained in, you would meet your new one as soon as possible. Only… you didn't find her, only an owl.
[USS Texas]
You may need those big guns of hers, especially if the Sirens decide to ambush you. Something was off about her though, wrong.
—
"I had planned on visiting the Bunker Hill, yes, but I had also planned on visiting the Texas so… that vessel first I suppose." I say to the diminutive warship. "You coming along?"
"Is water wet?"
"Until you feel it, no."
Cassin blinks, starting up at me. "...What?"
I smile, then look out towards the dock, distantly… I couldn't see the Texas. Even from my lofty perch, the Bunker Hill just across the way blocked all over ships from sight. The Essex class was truly something else.
"No, seriously, what?" Cassin continues.
Then I hear a car honk, and I cast my gaze down to the doc-
"Jesus tapdancing Christ." Cassin says in awe.
"Language." I think I say.
Leviathan was sitting on the trunk of a Duesenberg, her gloved hand raised in a wave towards us both. It was solid red, a perfect match for her dress. Without a speck of dirt or grime on her anywhere I could see. I make my way down the gangway, dodging several gawking sailors as I make my way over to Leviathan. "How'd you manage this?" I ask, coming to a stop just in front of the woman.
Leviathan slides off the trunk, her heels clicking against the concrete of the dock. "Oh, I made sure I was compensated for the selling of my remaining furniture. I've spent some time tuning it up to get it to run as I like ever since."
"What, does it run on coal now?" Cassin asks.
Leviathan smiles, turning her attention to the destroyer. "You may jog behind the car. Now, Anderson. What is our destination?" she asks, stepping around the vehicle and opening the passenger door.
"The Texas, if you would be so kind." Then I sit myself down.
"Of course," Leviathan replies, she closes the door gently, then walks around the front of the vehicle, her hand running across the metal, almost sensually as she does so. Without another word she moves into the driver's seat, cranks the engine, and then we take off.
Quite almost literally.
The car roars in mighty and terrible fury, and at once we are tearing down the docks. Around sailors, crates, machinery. She doesn't come close to hitting anything, but as my back is slammed against the seat and my remaining hand grips onto the dash for dear life, it doesn't matter much. The car swings into a right turn, and the vehicle screams down the dock, past the Bunker Hill, past the Intrepid, past several military police cars and at least one tank being loaded up before she comes to a sliding stop next to the Texas. I briefly glance back, wondering if you were going to see a MP chasing after the two of us. But it appears they aren't brave enough to try and write up a shipgirl for speeding.
I stepped out of the car, Leviathan was staring at me curiously as I did so. My feet remain steady, despite the brief insanity. Trying to keep your footing on a destroyer in the roiling arctic tended to grant one rather a rather good sense for stomach preservation… and balance. Adjusting the hat on my head, I look back at the carrier. "Tune ups?"
Leviathan smiles a very patient smile. "Did you expect my only hobby was models?" she then looks past me towards Texas. "I had heard of her, though until now I had never seen the vessel. Older than I am?"
"By a fair amount, though she's been refitted multiple times at this point, and she's been ably serving against the Sirens since 1918." I reply, then look at the ship myself. She sat, her hull a light gray and bristling with guns. Her crew was in the midst of lowering a new turret into place with a crane. That… was a surprise, I wasn't aware she was undergoing yet another refit, but then, this had been a rather slapdash thing even by naval standards.
Then I turn my head back at the sounds of slapping shoes against concrete, and Cassin comes to a sliding stop next to the car, a rather annoyed expression on her face.
"So you caught up then?" Leviathan asks innocently.
"Fuck o-"
"Oi, what're y'all doin' then?" a voice asks from directly behind me.
I turn, and find myself looking at an amazon. She wasn't as tall as Leviathan was, but then, I hadn't ever met a woman as tall as Leviathan was. But where Texas was only a few inches taller than me, she was bigger in just about every other category. Leather paints, a thick leather duster, and a white shirt tied together in the front that pushes up breasts roughly the size of Cassin's head. Twin revolvers sit on her hips beneath the coat, glinting in the morning sunlight, she shifts. Causing curly golden hair to bounce past her shoulders, blue eyes are lit with both curiosity and amusement, an interesting mix with her scarred face, including a rather nasty jagged one on her cheek roughly an inch wide that looks like… almost a blade wound. It starts on her lower left jaw and goes up just below her left eye. That wasn't the only scar on her, legs, arms, even what looked to be a puncture wound on the neck. It didn't seem to slow her down however. On her head, lastly, was a weathered looking stetson with BB-35 affixed to the side on a golden plate.
"Good morning Texas, I am to be your new Task Group commander." I greet, offering a hand forward.
Texas looks down at me quizzically, and only then do I realize she's carrying a rather sizable piece of metal on one shoulder. It's only a moment after that that I realize that it's a barrel to one of her turrets. Texas shifts the weight on her shoulder for a moment, then she lowers the barrel to the ground, holding her hand onto it for a moment so that it doesn't fall over and inadvertently create an extremely closed-casket funeral. Then she grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. "Well howdy there, you Anderson then?"
"Indeed, I wasn't aware you knew I was coming."
She releases my hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Just got back from that ol' brick building where the busyfolks run around in. Got told about it, so we're goin-" She pauses, looking around the dock for a moment. Nobody was paying much attention to the lot of you, too busy with work as the crane moved the turret into place. Texas then leans close, then jerks a thumb out towards the Atlantic.
"That's the idea." I reply. "Good to have you along, I served alongside you more than once in the ice packs. Though I never had the chance to meet you in person."
Texas frowns for a moment, studying my face. Then looks past me towards the-
"Oh, you were that crazy motherfucker!"
Cassin grins from ear to ear, rocking on her heels all the while. Texas disappears from sight, appearing again next to Cassin with a faint whip of air. Leviathan, for her part, takes a rather rapid step to the side as Texas's giant hand lands atop the destroyer's head. "Shit, yer alive? Figured you'd die trying to dogfight a plane at Pearl or somethin'."
"Pfft, they barely scratched me. Those Japs ain't anymore dangerous than the Sirens." Cassin brags. Then her eyes flit to me. "Anderson did most of the work though. Got real scratched up for it."
"Looks fine to me," Texas says, looking back at me.
I shift my right stump into view, and her eyes flit to it. At once… the smile and happiness on her face is gone. Replaced by an expressionless nothing that revealed less. Her hands slides off of Cassin's head, falling to her side, and she simply stares at the stump for a few moments. Then she smiles once more, "well shit, glad you're still movin' about. Always need tough ones in the Navy." She then looks at Leviathan. "This your new flattop then? She don't look too flat to me."
Leviathan smiles the practiced smile of an experienced hostess. "I am the USS Leviathan. I am ready and able for all combat operations. I expect you to provide proper escort as I accomplish my tasks."
"Escort?" Texas drawls, staring up at the carrier. "Ya think my guns are fer escort? Shit, you just use those little birds of yers to find whatever I need to blow up with my battery. Ain't nothin' gonna come close enough to scratch your pretty paint."
Silence then passes between them, carrier glaring at battleship.
Then Texas grins. "Nah, ain't the first time. Ah'll be able to keep up with ya too. They refitted my engines back in '41."
"Those new turrets?" Cassin asks.
Texas glances back at herself. "Swapping out for newer ones, the Navy doesn't want me with anything old. Got some other upgrades too."
"Oh? And what would those be?" I ask.
"Engines as ah said, got some work done on additional torpedo armor too. Ah'll be ready for just about anything those pricks throw at me out there."
"We'll be trusting you on that," I reply.
"'Course," Texas says after a moment. Smiling from ear to ear. "But I've gotta get back to getting all sorted, unless there was anythin' else?"
"You are invited to a Gala tonight upon my vessel, your attendance is mandatory. Wear your uniform." Leviathan says. Turning the dinner into a Gala and… adding a new requirement.
Texas arches a brow. "Gala?"
"Quite." Leviathan replies.
"Aight, ah'll see if I can't find the uniform, ah'll let the boss know." Then, with a grunt she hoists the barrel up onto her shoulder once more and makes her way to the ship.
"She's awesome." Cassin says quietly.
She's tired. But I don't say that. Instead you turn your attention to Leviathan. "The Bunker Hill next, if you don't mind."
—
Leviathan drove… far more calmly on the way back, perhaps it was a test originally. Or perhaps it was something she just had to get out of her system. But I reached the Bunker Hill in one piece regardless. From there… I found myself escorted to the bridge to meet Bunker Hill, where… I didn't.
I met the Captain of course, a redheaded man named O'Keefe. The ship was remarkably similar in a lot of ways to the Leviathan, notably different in others. For starters, she was a good deal larger, having been designed originally to be a carrier. She was also hellaciously busy. Not a single inch of her flight deck was free of planes, and from the looks of things it was less maintenance and more she was actually getting her planes for the first time.
The shipgirl however…
"Hoo."
Leviathan, Cassin, and Myself all found ourselves staring down at a small owl. It was sitting on top of the wheel and staring at us, its head tilting this way and that. It had a bandana wrapped around its… I wasn't sure if owls had a neck, and it had a tiny little navy cap on its head. The owl's eyes, golden, bored into me.
"This is… Bunker Hill?" I ask.
"Hoo."
O'Keefe clears his throat. "Her representative. Bubo, her…" The captain pauses, then shrugs his shoulders. "We're not entirely sure what, Admiral. It appeared when she did per the teachers at SCAHR. It isn't a regular bird, and anything we tell it… well, the ship responds. But Bunker herself doesn't leave her chambers."
"Ever?" Cassin asks.
O'Keefe shakes his head. "Not as long as I've been onboard, which is a good month now. Course, we haven't seen combat or the like, and the owl… Well, Bubo seems to keep an eye on things, and it understands us."
"... Are you implying that the owl is the shipgirl?"
"No sir, I'm saying it's a weird owl."
"Hoo."
I stare at the tiny bird. "There will be a dinner tonight on the Leviathan, attendance is mandatory. Do you… understand this? I will need Bunker Hill to appear in person."
The owl looks at me, blinks, then shakes its head rapidly.
…
Shipgirls.
—
[] [Force the issue]
I was an admiral, I would meet my charges.
[] [Leave her be]
She was a younger shipgirl, she would come out in time… of course, that made things more difficult.
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