• Published 1st Apr 2016
  • 8,167 Views, 4,449 Comments

Group Precipitation - FanOfMostEverything



Stories set in the Oversaturated World, some silly, some less so.

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SSR Drop (Surly Siren Rant), by FoME

Adagio had heard a lot of madness over the years. Inciting several wars had given her plenty of experience there, to say nothing of delving into the abyssal depths of her home’s oceans or having to listen to Mr. Discord before he had his first cup of coffee.

“You want to do an ad read.”

Nothing quite compared to what she’d just heard Aria tell her.

“I will do the next ad read,” Aria insisted, glaring at Adagio with her arms crossed.

You want to do an ad read.” In Adagio’s defense, centuries of Aria not volunteering for anything unless there was a chance of bloodshed had left her unprepared for this, along with the other siren storming into her room unannounced. (After those same centuries, all three sirens knew better than to share a bedroom. Mr. Discord had happily accommodated them with a little chaos magic-powered remodeling.)

Aria rolled her eyes. “Is this going to be a whole thing?”

“Sonata always does the ad reads,” Adagio said with the same certainty as reciting a law of physics. Objects fell. The sun rose and set. Sonata did the grunt work that called for a smile.

“Sonata wouldn’t know dignity if she bit it in half,” Aria snarled.

Adagio nodded. That too was set in stone. “And yet you want—”

“I’m willing to make an exception.”

That got a sigh as Adagio recalled just who had offered to pay for singing their praises on My Sister, My Sister, and Me. “Should I just assume we’re losing this sponsor?”

Aria just grinned. Out of the three sirens, she definitely appreciated getting back their old teeth the most.


“… and so, no, ‘Family in Fillydelphia,’” Adagio concluded, “I am almost positive we’re not related.”

“That’s probably true,” said Sonata, staring at the ceiling and still thinking about a digression from three minutes earlier, “but what does it have to do with those things on the ends of shoelaces?”

Adagio permitted herself a slight smirk. It wasn’t like they were recording video today. “While we contemplate that, let’s have a word from our sponsors. Aria?”

Sonata sat up, previous thought forgotten. “Wait, what?”

Aria scowled at her, but it was one of her more affectionate scowls. “You’re not the only one who can deliver a sales pitch.” She cleared her throat, picked up the suggested ad copy, and promptly tore it in half. “Do you want to embark on a fantastic journey of magic and machinery? Well, there’s probably some games out there that can give you one, or you could put Love Love Naval Academy on your phone.

“Feel your phone overheat as it struggles to render enough particle effects and big numbers to make you think you’re playing a slot machine. Because you are playing a slot machine. It just pays out in imaginary currency and image files of girls wearing sailor uniforms and boat parts who are allegedly above the age of consent.

“Use the code DAZZ50—that’s dee aye zee zee five zero—for a bunch of fake money that would usually cost you real money. And do it fast, ‘cause they’re probably pulling the sponsorship as we speak. Love Love Naval Academy: You can’t buy self-respect, so you might as well embrace why you don’t have any.” Aria sat back with the same satisfied grin that followed her reaction to some idiot calling women “the weaker sex.”

Adagio shook away the pleasant memories. “We do need to make a living, Aria. Unless you want to go back to being Mr. Discord’s teaching assistant.”

“Or prison,” added Sonata.

Aria shrugged. “Eh, that got old.”

Sonata tilted her head in thought. “Which one?”

“Yes. Besides, speaking as a sea monster who used to feed on people's hatred, I say these things give predatory tactics a bad name."

Adagio thought about that for a moment. "Valid point, amazingly enough. Who’s up for another letter from the mailbag?”

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