#the pearletariat

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

2020 SU Fic Sampler - WIP Showcase

So in my continued attempts at distraction, I trawled through my SU fanfic folders, looked at the ol’ endless WIP pile. Figured I’d do a little roundup of some that are in something resembling a decent state. Maybe even see where interest lies and all that, get some attention and validation, you know, all that good stuff one craves. Of course, there’s loads more than this, and I might one day post some things I wrote but never quite managed to finish up, or that got super jossed in ways I couldn’t get myself to work around.

Now, in no particular order, here’s 8 draft snippets totaling almost 6000 words - not very polished, obviously, some quite rough around the edges, some long, some short, some that work better without context than others. But here they are anyway, with an utterly predictable array of focal characters. Any missing segments or my asides/notes in the text are [written like this], because I usually write very non-linearly. Hope you all like mood whiplash! 

P.S. I live for comments.

Like Talking To A Wall, aka Bismuth making friends with the wall, statue, and floor Gems. Early precursors to radicalisation and “I would have liberated everyone”, perhaps. Started as one of my first reactions to the Diamond Days episodes.

“Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. You’re lucky I’m so supportive,” Mica piped up from up on her arch.

Bismuth laughed. Bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Then, with a surprisingly gentle hand pressed to the carvings she’d been so careful about, she added a soft: “I’ll miss you.”

“Chin up! It’s gonna be a lovely off-planet adventure for you,” Granite rumbled from just above her head. “A brand new colony! Think of the sights!”

“You can tell us all about it when we see you again.”

Bismuth leaned back, pressing her whole back against the wall, reluctant to leave, even if a snooty shift supervisor was bound to come around and chase her off soon. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that.”

They all knew very well that, as always, when the building was done, it was goodbye. The chances of there being a need for repairs or remodelling - and the exact same bismuths being brought in to do them - were incredibly slim.

But pretending was nice, sometimes.

-

Hey, Steven, think I could get a moment before we leave? I won’t be long.

-

They were right where she’d left them, and the years had done very little to change them. A bit of a patina there, some dust, the tiniest bit of wear on sharper corners.

“Bismuth?” Several familiar voices cried out to her in shocked recognition.

She knew she must look a sight - battle-ready and battle-worn, but armour still gleaming, and with a bearing of one who had been through much and was always ready for more. She felt her back had never been so proud and straight, her shoulders so resolutely set.

“I think,” Bismuth grinned, “you’re gonna start seeing changes around these parts.”

---

One for that favourite Pearletariat/Pearl Solidarity fic sub-genre of mine: Clever Pearls Cleverly Getting Around Badly Worded Orders. A bit of an origin for an as-of-yet unnamed pearl OC, because I sure don’t have enough of those!

In the untold thousands of years of Homeworld and Gemkind, and the hundreds of thousands of commands given to hundreds of thousands of pearls, nobody ever thought to Order a pearl not to think. That would imply a they mattered at all, and who would ever put stock in a pearl’s thoughts? Most Gems weren’t sure pearls could think, anyway. I mean, if they could, all that standing around would be intolerable, wouldn’t it? And imagine not being able to say no to anything, even crushing your own gem - shards, at least I’m not a pearl!

They were, occasionally, when dealing with an owner’s important, private, confidential business, Ordered to forget, or, a bit less esoterically, Ordered never to tell.

And [OWNER] has always been all too eager with the Orders. As if she went to bizarre lengths in her thinking that pearl couldn’t - or wouldn’t? - do anything upon merely being told, let alone by herself. Every little thing, from sweeping up the shards of a broken decorative plate to taking down the minutes of an important meeting [OWNER] was presiding over - (im)pressed upon pearl with the crushing weight of an Order.

But she could still think.

Even when Ordered to wait by the door, freezing her limbs and anchoring her legs to the ground with all the force of a starship mooring mechanism. Even when Ordered into silence for days and planetary rotations on end because [OWNER] had wanted to read an important document without being disturbed and it simply didn’t occur to her to lift it when she was done.

In the wake of the Rebellion and the Renegade Pearl, it only gets worse, and soon enough pearl can barely remember the last time a single movement she made was voluntary.

---

SU Future-era Bismuth and Steven convo I scribbled down in between some of these recent eps - after Growing Pains in particular I think - because Bismuth is the absolute pep talk queen.

“You already said you were sorry for trying to kill me in the Forge, and really, it’s okay, it was all a misunderstanding. Besides, it’s more than a lot of people have done!”

Bismuth blinked at the pinkish sheen around Steven’s cheeks, around the downturned brows - strange trick of the light, that. “Steven, come on. Just listen to me for a minute.”

“Okay,” Steven sighed, and leaned against the railing Bismuth had fixed just that morning.

“Point is, for me, the war had never ended. It wasn’t only yesterday, it was today. It was over for everyone, it seemed, except for me. And getting over that, getting used to that, really seeing that as the truth, not living every day buzzed up with that anticipation of the next battle, just waiting for Homeworld to come down hard on us with whatever new horror they’d come up with… that took a while. And it took help.”

[sudden apparent non-sequitur but It’s An Allegory, Steven.]

“When you make a sword, you can’t make it rigid and unyielding. You can’t just temper it into toughness and hardness and make it unbreakable. It needs to have some give in order to be durable, it needs to be able to bend so as not to shatter on impact. And sure, maybe the first parry or strike wouldn’t be the one to do it, but the tenth, the hundreth, the thousandth? Any time you might just find yourself holding on to a hilt with the jagged remnants of everything, and shards scattered on the ground. And if you’re very lucky, that’ll happen during friendly sparring, not in the heat of battle.”

Steven shrugged without response, and seemed to be shrugging off all the words as well. Back to the direct approach it was, then.

“Now you, Steven,” that at least got a bit more attention, “Sure, you can brawl with the best of ‘em, and you put that gem to damn good use. You’ve got great technique drilled in, too - I’d expect nothing less from one of Pearl’s students. But that’s not how you won, in the end, is it? You never won because you were tough, or strong. You have a diamond in you but you’re not hard at all. Well, except on yourself.”

“In the end all of this was possible because you were soft. Just malleable and pliable enough when it was needed. And that takes guts.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Bismuth put a hand on his shoulder, and even with all the very human growing he’d done, he still seemed to almost disappear in it. “You put yourself out there for others… maybe it’s about time you let them help you.”

---

The next chapter of the His Dark Materials/Daemons AU which I am sooooo painfully late with it’s not even funny anymore. Already posted some excerpts [here] and [here].

“She’s been... away on business, but we’ve sent a zeppelin for her and she’s well on her way back. Hopefully.”

“You have a zeppelin?” Rose was rapidly failing in all her efforts to keep her voice down. 

“Of a sort. We, er, we... stole it.”

“Stole-!”

“Yes, well, stole might be a strong word,” Pearl tapped a finger against her chin. “You see, there was a small decommissioned postal craft left below the southern mail station aërodock that nobody would ever miss, all I had to do was fix it up a bit and-”

Rose blinked. “You fixed a decommissioned zeppelin.”

Pearl waved a hand almost casually. “I had some help, but yes. Svalbard, understandably, is hard to reach with other means of transport, and Bismuth needed to be able to go back and forth.”

“You,” Rose began, awed, “are utterly wasted on bringing me my slippers, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well then, maybe,” Pearl blushed, but there was nothing hesitant about her smirk and the strikingly proud tilt of her head, “maybe you could take them off with a bit more care than kicking them halfway across the room and sending them off under the cabinets and- and then I wouldn’t need to do that at all. And I could fix all the zeppelins in the world.”

-

[more from the super secret backroom rebellion meeting]

“They’re with the Consistorial Court of Discipline, no doubt. Always on the lookout for,” Bismuth grimaced, “heretics. A lot falls under that. A lot of good excuses to snatch someone off the street and do who knows what to them. And they’ve been funneling people there, people vanished by the CCD. Not lacking in test subjects lately.”

“How did you get this? Where?” It was Sapphire, this time. Ruby seemed overwhelmed, and sat clutching her hand desperately as the tiny frog and hare both whispered something to her.

“We traced the funding for all this. It was difficult and deliberately obfuscated, but we managed. A facility like this, an entire operation, cost a pretty amount, you’d assume - and you’d be right. It had to come from somewhere. And whoever was paying for it was likely to want to know what was being done with their investment.”

“So we followed the trail. And it turned out I was… ideally positioned to… to, erm, procure what evidence there was to be found. Because, well...” Pearl trailed off, and lifted one of the stolen report sheets for all to see.

It was as clear as day, the family crest right above the astronomical amount being granted. Four diamonds, neatly arranged.

Neshu’s ears were flat against his mane, and Rose found herself wishing the ground would simply open up and swallow both her and him and the chair that she sat on and he’d tried to duck under.

Bismuth spoke up, grim, every drop of earlier exuberance gone from her. “When the Diamonds look out from the windows of their mansion, they don’t see people. They see tools, toys, and weapons. Nothing else.” She sounded more tired than angry. “It’s just what they’ve always been doing, but writ large.”

---

And then, of course, the Longass PearlRose Fixit because I hate the gag order but at the same time want it gone… slowly and organically. Alternating Rose and Pearl POVs spanning throughout the rebellion era, all sorts of flashbacks and Imagining Things included. At one point they end up attempting to essentially jailbreak Pearl, because Pearl is, as we all know, absolutely the most hardcore. Also thank you SU Movie for confirming all the awful Alexa-flavour fanon/headcanons and giving me an excuse to dive into a bunch of Gems-as-AI tropey stuff, on top of everything. [another previously posted fragment here]

“I don’t want to. I never want to do that to you again.” She stops, takes a breath, reconsiders. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, the trust I just… trampled over. So I want to make sure that it’s not just that, you trusting me not to make the same mistake again, with no reassurance anywhere. I—I want to not be able to. Nobody should be able to do that to you.”

“Nobody should be able to do that to anyone,” Pearl corrects readily.

“You’re right,” Rose smiles, only a bit wry, “as always. My brilliant, brilliant Pearl. What would I do without you?”

“Never get back to the point you were trying to make, I imagine,” Pearl quips with something resembling sauciness, and Rose feels at least some of the weight starting to lift off her.

“Right,” Rose agrees, chastised, and tries to focus. “I just… I’m not sure how, or what I need to do at all. It’s not like there’s much precedent – ownerless pearls are unheard of. Even when their owners get shattered, it’s only ever temporary, and, with such high demand, very brief.”

Pearl nods in agreement, and hums. “Luckily, we’ve seen plenty of unheard of and unspeakable things here.”

[echoes of Scabbard convo]

“I want to know, I want to be certain, that you’re here because you want to be.” 

“So do I.” Pearl responds quietly, letting their fingers entwine.

  [Giving an order not to follow orders doesn’t work, failsafes exist. Then they try a sort of ownership transfer thing, and try to make the new owner Pearl. It doesn’t register, “invalid transfer target”, even when Pearl tries to hack it - some odd gem tool that scans and pokes at her gem - she gets all bummed out because she can’t even reprogram a very basic and modifiable handheld tool/device to recognise a pearl as an actual gem and person. What chance does she have against hearts and minds and an entire ingrained culture of an entire sprawling empire?

“You changed my mind,” says Rose all softly and earnestly.

Have I really? Pearl asks herself but doesn’t let it escape out loud. Still. Step by small step, she admits to herself. Incremental, slow, but persistent work. She can do that. Even as down on herself as she is, she can do that.]

“The… the override.” Pearl breathes out suddenly.

“What?”

“The administrative override - you, or, well... Pink Diamond should be able to trigger it, even without a Rejuvenator. We shouldn’t…” Pearl looks strangely scared now, swallowing small gulps before pushing onwards, hands trembling and fingers knotting together, “w-we shouldn’t need a full reset, really, but. But we can try modifying the owner identification...”

Having to… turn into Pink again (turn back into yourself, you mean, a small voice whispers, who are you trying to fool) doesn’t sit well with her, of course, but. Get a hold of yourself, Pearl certainly has it so much worse in this scenario.

[more here about how they both need to kind of “revert” a bit to try this and it sucks, because no! unpleasant poking of holes in the elaborate fantasy! For the greater good, but still.]

And oh, Pearl looks just about ready to either cry with some strange terror Rose has never seen her display, or dissipate her form on the spot - the small dam of coldly throwing around terms like administrative override activation and owner identification variable providing just enough distance for her to carry on.

“It shouldn’t be too risky if we’re… if you’re careful.”

[Pearl trusts her with everything, her literal entire self - with this thing that is such a blatant violation of her being and her person, that she now wants to turn against itself, using one of the most humiliatingly clearly objectifying aspects of her status as an instrument of her liberation. It is all A Lot.]

Rose remembers, also, with a sting, the way she grumbled and sulked over the gaping pit of guilt in her stomach and refused to even look at the glowing, floating shell Blue was so insistently pushing her towards. She wanted her Pearl back, not whatever White and the others had decided to foist upon her now. Not a pale replacement, nothing they deemed suitable.

-

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

“Come on, Pink,” Blue urges, softly but mercilessly as ever, large hands enveloping Pink almost whole from where they’re planted on her shoulders, “White had her specially made, just for you! And we helped as well - only the best for our Pink. Now it’s up to you to put your finishing touches, as is proper-”

“What for? You’ll just take her away when you feel like it anyway,” she grumbles into her arms, curling up on the floor and resolutely refusing to look even as the glow spreads from the corner of her eye, insistent.

Just as insistent as the awfully familiar little voice. “Please state preferred customisation options.”

“I. Don’t. Care!” But now with a newly noticeable, if strained restraint - not, like her usual, punctuated with a slam of her fist on the floor tiles, perfectly shiny and pink. No, she couldn’t- do something like that again-

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

Yellow scoffs and moves to leave. “Come on, Blue. No point to us wasting our time being here if she’s just going to throw one of her tantrums.”

But Blue refuses to leave it at that, and makes sure to cut with parting words, before slinking through the large pink doorway. “I am very disappointed in you, Pink. To act like that, and with White personally making sure you got such a lovely gift even after everything...”

“Waste of good nacre, if you ask me,” Yellow muses from somewhere up above. “At least try not to break this one.” 

The glow intensifies with a hum, and Pink screws her eyes shut and pretends not to see or hear anything. 

By the time she opens them again, the others are gone.

But then there is another presence at her side, hovering just behind, as is proper court protocol. The shuffling of tiny, soft slippers on the polished stone - weren’t pearls supposed to be endlessly, effortlessly quiet?

“Leave me alone,” she preempts quietly. The shuffling moves away.

-

“Please identify yourself.”

Calmly, now, calmly but firmly, just like we planned it. Don’t mess this up now. She’s counting on you. She trusts you. “Pearl.”

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

They’ve discussed this too, of course - extensive (over)preparation and planning down to minutiae is Pearl’s go-to at the best of times, and something she clutches at for comfort at the worst of times. And she’s always, to a sometimes comical extent, despised that ridiculous dress. To a wonderful extent, too, all things considered.

“Revert to last implemented appearance.”

“Settings selected. Please stand by.”

[Of course this doesn’t work because all it does is change the $username$ variable, not the actual identity of the person imprinted: it’s still Rose/Pink, she’s just nicknamed “Pearl” now, but she can still give orders and everything.]

[evolves into Pearl literally hacking herself… the most hardcore of modders]

---

Pearl Playing the Field aka “why not hyper-analyze that one brief shot of the notes and phone numbers in Pearl’s gem and write 9 meet-cutes”. Pearl goes out to “find herself”. Whatever that is supposed to mean. Supposed to be set pre-ASPR, but also extends past it. Ended up with some Bispearl in it too because I am predictable and can absolutely not help myself.

“Your hair is wonderful!” She feels like she almost has to shout to be heard over the din of the bar’s ill-chosen soundtrack, and she doesn’t appreciate it. Definitely not one of her favourite places she’s decided to visit recently. And the ventilation is atrocious.

But still, she’s come all this way, so she may as well make the best of it. And while the preoccupation with hairstyles during first meetings seems like a bit of an odd running theme (can it really be termed a running theme, though, if it’s happened all of two times?), it’s certainly worked in the past (recent, very recent, and hardly bursting with relevant instances, Pearl!). Oh, and this particular one is just too fascinating. Approaching a work of art, Pearl would dare say. Especially, well. Especially when paired with the lovely eyes and striking jawline and strong neck it seems to deliberately be drawing attention to.

Pearl leans on the bar, in the bit of space the woman happily makes for her, and tries to look confident and well-informed, but not smug, no, never smug. “I know... about the, uh, goop, of course. I know how one accomplishes this.”

The woman gives a bemused smile. “Thanks! Not too shabby yourself.” She leans in closer. “I'm actually in school for it.”

“School?” Pearl casts desperately back to what she's heard from Steven and Greg's often hasty instruction. That was for educating human children, wasn't it? She'd put one together for Steven that one time, with desks and a blackboard… and Connie attended one regularly...

“Yeah, kind of a late game career change.” Pearl nods along as she realises - or, rather, remembers - she is absolutely terrible at gauging human ages. “But I thought... after almost 30 years in accounting and not going anywhere I wanted to be going... it’s not like we have all the time in the world, right? So I figured, why not? Go for something I'm actually invested in and that I've always wanted to do, y'know?”

“Oh. Oh yes, yes I do.” And for once, she really does. Well, not the time-related bit, perhaps, but the very particular delight of getting to pursue one’s genuine interests after a long while of being denied? Absolutely. “I’ve done something of the sort myself, actually. Go for it! As they, uh, say.”

The dramatic gesture of almost punching the air with a closed triumphant/defiant fist might have been a tad over the top, but it wins her a smile that doesn’t seem unkind. The woman winks and tips her glass at Pearl, then finishes her drink - something sweet-smelling and almost as colourful as her hair.

“I had a classmate do this one for me, and I did hers after.” Pearl is nodding along again, leaning in to hear better as the woman’s voice dips lower. “I kind of like to experiment, push the limits, go wild with it. Hey. You interested? Promise I won’t go too wild on you.”

Pearl's mind goes blank there for a moment. The woman is… very close, and there are unignorable implications unrelated to hair styling so obvious here even she is picking up on them without issue, and the music hasn’t gotten any quieter. Interested in what, exactly, she wants to ask, but she came here for wild new experiences and exciting novelty, didn’t she, so instead comes out with a rather strangled-sounding: “Eughhhhh...uhhh.... Ye...s?”

The woman’s expression goes serious. “Hey, come on, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

---

Forge Showdown AU - aka in a twist of fate Bismuth poofs Rose during their confrontation and revelations happen that change the course of… well, pretty much everything - one of a bunch of AUs where the PD reveal happens earlier and under different circumstances (I had an idea of doing a 5+1 of those at one point).

The glow of the lava coloured the quickly dissipating smoke more orange-red than pale pink, and Bismuth stared numbly at where their revered leader, Rose Quartz herself, had been standing mere moments ago. She’d lashed out, true, but she hadn’t really been expecting the clumsy blow - more of a warning, or underlining a point in their continued argument-turned-fight - to land. In all their many sparring sessions, Rose had never succumbed to something like that, would have never so much as let it brush against her. But she’d been- frozen, distracted… by what? 

There, scraping softly against the ground as it rolled with leftover momentum...

That was not a rose quartz gem.

Bismuth raked her mind feverishly, thought back through the last few, oddly blurred seconds.

“We’re not using this, Bismuth! It’d make us just as bad as them!”

“No! You’re the one who’s as bad as them- look at you, lording over all of us, thinking it’s your right to command me, order me around, like you’re, what, my diamond?”

It… it had to be some kind of imposter, or spy. Right? Some kind of… awful Homeworld plan, trying to tear the Rebellion apart from the inside. Where was Rose, then? The real one? Captured? Being interrogated somewhere, her whereabouts kept strictly secret to minimise the chance of rescue? Shattered? Impossible, they’d never hear the end of the victorious crowing.

When could it have happened? The last few battles and meetings had been nothing out of the ordinary, and Bismuth couldn’t think of anything odd or off about Rose recently at all. Not a single hint or sign that anything was amiss. Not a single misstep. Homeworld would have trained and conditioned its agents well, but Rose- Rose was singular, and utterly one-of-a-kind, and how could they possibly capture all of it so perfectly-

Bismuth startled out of her thoughts as the beginnings of light seemed to gather in the core of the gem, and all but threw herself onto it, encasing it in a bubble.

Rose was rather special, wasn’t she? And not just in what she said or what she did or how she behaved or what she led and encouraged them to do, but… 

Her endless array of wondrous powers. Her sheer strength, overpowering ruby fusions and quartz battalions alike almost single-handedly. The healing which Bismuth herself had been on the receiving, lifesaving end of countless times. The way she called upon the organic creatures of the planet to fight for her, fighting in their name. And then, her regular absences. The way she seemed to know exactly what the Homeworld troops were up to - that wasn’t just some kind of tactical brilliance.

She dared to look at the gem again. Its hue was changed some by the bubble, but that was still in no way a rose quartz gem. No, it was an altogether different shape, but a terrifyingly familiar one.

But it made no sense!

Bismuth ran a slightly trembling hand down her face.

Pearl. Of course, Pearl would have to know, if anyone. About… whatever this was.

But if this, if she was… her, then Pearl-

Bismuth’s insides twisted in horrible ways as the implications began to flitter through her mind, each one worse than the one before it. There was the old call-and-response ringing in her ears, making her feel disoriented and sick with what had to be the beginnings of anger, could grow into a great fury, leaving her unnecessary breaths ragged: Who do you belong to? Nobody!

But-

Not Pearl, then. At least, not at first. Garnet. Garnet would know, and Garnet could See. They’d get to the bottom of this.

---

A metric ton of rebellion era ficlets, vignettes from my eeeEEeeEEeeEEE Bismuth collection mostly, which I’ve been accumulating since 2016 and have only posted some - Pearl, Rose, Garnet, Bismuth centric, occasionally with my takes on namedropped characters, some of which would now need an update to match actual canon.

Snowflake was there, held in Garnet’s arms. The familiar pattern of white speckles on black skin, the tight silver coils of hair sticking out every which way.

“We got her back. She wanted to see you.”

“Me? And you just listened to her? Are you out of your mind? How can I help? Have you taken her to Rose? If her gem- if she-”

“I’m right here!” Snowflake struggled out of Garnet’s hold, and stood up - wobbly, barely upright, but determined, on those legs that ran circles around Homeworld, and ran interference and messages faster than any Wailing Stone, in a pinch. “And I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine, Snowy- listen, please just-”

Snowflake walked up to her, not stumbling a single time, and, gritting her teeth, looked right at her. The hairline fractures in her gem were visible from here, and Bismuth couldn’t help a wince. “Snowflake, come on-”

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Bismuth wanted to clutch her to her chest and scream a thousand things at her, but You don’t have to prove anything to me and I’m proud of you and I’m going to make them pay for ever laying a finger on you all waged a war in her throat.

In the end she just settled on holding her close, very gently, until Garnet left, unheard, and came back with Rose, tears already in abundance.

[Later:] “I never properly thanked you, Garnet. For bringing Snowflake back.”

Garnet shrugged. “It was a group effort.”

-

A familiar voice sounded at the entrance to the Forge. “Now come along, it’s just here. Bismuth? Do you have a moment?”

“You know I always have time for you, Pearl,” she called back, putting her current project away. “What did you nee- oh.”

Bismuth blinked.

“Uh... wow,” was the only thing she could manage as pearl after pearl filed into her Forge, soon taking up most of the space around the anvil in impressively neat rows. “New recruits? A whole bunch of you, too.”

“Yes, well,” Pearl made her way to the front of the group, carefully avoiding brushing against the others on her way. She was fidgeting again, long fingers tangling and untangling rapidly, and that was one sure sign of mounting distress. “Garnet and I had planned out an attack on one of Blue Diamond’s supply lines. There was supposed to be a shipment of weapons coming in today, but it turns out it was… pearls.” 

There was something rather off about Pearl’s tone, too. Bismuth made a note to ask later, and do her best to catch her alone.

“Well, all the better for us. Nice to have you all on board.” Her jovial tone was only slightly forced - the pearls all looked like they clearly needed something resembling friendliness, but their skittishness was palpable. She turned towards a pale green pearl right at the front of the group. “Now, what do I call you?”

There was nothing but mild confusion, vague fear, and general quiet shuffling. “No ideas yet? Don’t worry about it! There’s plenty of time to decide and find something that fits.”

[she does indeed manage to talk to Pearl alone, later]

“What’s the real problem, Pearl? You can’t fool me. I can tell something’s wrong.” 

The rather flimsy front finally crumbled at that.

“I just… we- we took out the citrines they’d sent with the shuttle, and Garnet boosted me up so I could force the hatch open and I did, but then...” Pearl let out a distressed little half-sigh half-sob, one hand gesturing weakly. “They were all looking at me so wide-eyed and...”

She took a moment to at least attempt to collect herself.

“I don’t mind having them here, it’s not that at all. It’s just that… we were standing there, with all these newly-made pearls and… obviously I couldn’t just leave them there, in the middle of nowhere! And after what we did, whoever found them, they’d just have them shattered. Because of me. They were compromised. You’ve heard what they do now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. They’re the monsters, Pearl, and it’s not on you. It’s not you doing that to pearls, it’s them.”

“But it is on me! It quite literally is because of me, because of what I did, and continue to do. I made myself visible and played at being important and look what it got us,” Pearl was near tears, a frustrated blue colouring her face, “a handful of runaways and the rest being treated worse than ever.” 

The tears were out in full force after that, and Bismuth put an arm around Pearl’s shaking shoulders. “Hey, hey, none of that.”

“We ended up taking them with us, but it feels like… it feels like I forced them to come here. Is it really any better than what Homeworld does? All I did was say you’re going to be rebels instead of you’re going to serve and they never got a say in anything.”

“Have you asked them?”

“They don’t know what-”

“Hey. Just ask them, okay? Ask them what they want. We can help them either way. Of course I’d love them to stay. But it’s not up to me, and if they want to go to wherever it was they were supposed to go- we can do that, too.”

-

[Rose discovers her healing tears in a dramatic fashion - they come up with the idea to make the fountain - and thanks to Save the Light we have a pretty good idea of who lovingly made all those statues]

She gently wiped away some of the chiselling dust with the flat of her thumb, just like a tear. A magnificent, healing, life-giving tear.

This was familiar work. But with none of the endless chafing, none of the hated reminders of her former station - Bismuth couldn’t find anything in herself but reverence. And… inspiration. She was a Gem, stars knew she didn’t need rest, breaks, anything of the sort, but still - this pace wasn’t something she’d felt driven to in a long, long while. All day under the burning summer sun, and every night under the light of her own gem. All alone, as the sanctuary took form under her hands.

To get the curls just right, tiny detail by tiny detail, somehow communicate the softness of those cheeks in stone… it took drawing upon the very depths of her well of skill, because how else could she ever hope to capture the likeness of someone as extraordinary as Rose Quartz?

With small, careful movements, she formed the roundness of the lips that could spit fiery words of rebellion, inspire like no other, scowl fiercely in the heat of battle, smile contagiously, bellow out an outrageous fireside guffaw, murmur comforts so softly, kiss…

And then she did it again, and again, and again.

[in the end, Rose is presented with a veritable shrine to herself]

“Rose? Is something wrong? You… don’t like it?”

“No, no, Bismuth, it’s… it’s incredible.” The smile Rose turned on her was as beautiful as anything, but it wasn’t hard to notice it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

[hazelwander]

A digital redo of a pencil sketch I did for @blue-pearl-lamentation because she’s an adorable butch.

[pearldefiance]

Reblog with the most important things you’ve learned from Pearl. ^.^

I’ll start:

Never give up

Always try to do the right thing, even if you make mistakes along the way

Believe in those you love, even when it’s too hard to believe in yourself

[run-on-lightning]

Stars and Circles / Pearl Salute

Here’s a little something I did for @elexuscal​‘s Little Rebellions, just in time for the final chapter.

Always remember: Little rebellions may be little, but are just as defiant.

(Never to be silenced. Never to be extinguished.)

[feliville]

two art trades I finally finished for 2 cool people on instagram !!

@pearletariat​ and @atralheaven

(art trades are closed)

[elexuscal]

Fic: Real, Not Real

Summary: Over the millennia, a Pearl struggles to hold onto what is hers. Note: A birthday fic for the wonderful @oathkeeper-of-tarth, rebel leader of the Pearletariat! (Also, the idea of this fic inspired by a wonderful meta by @fatalcookies)

-----

Real, Not Real

Pearls had scarcely little that was their own.

Their actions were all ordered. Their clothes were all designed to another Gem’s wishes. The items they carried were always for someone else. They did not even have true names. All other Gems had a cut and a facet, but Pearls were simply called by their Master’s name.

They had their thoughts, at least. Their own opinions, their own feelings, however well hidden.

Blue Diamond’s Pearl had even less than that.

Blue Diamond’s mind was strong. Whatever she felt, others felt too, their minds bending to the will of someone even greater.

There had been a time-- long ago, before the war-- when serving in Blue Diamond’s court could be a joy. She would laugh, and everyone else would laugh too, more than happy to be buoyed up by another's elation.

Pearl had disliked it, even then. Or she’d disliked it when she had the chance. When that giddiness was running through her, it was impossible to resent it, to feel anything but ecstasy. But when it faded, it always left her feeling small and hollow and uncertain. Like something had been taken from her.

That was how it had started.

“You look lovely,” Blue Diamond would say, after Pearl had regenerated. And Pearl would tell herself that actually, she thought the top was too frilly and the drooping hair too silly.

“I find reports from Emeralds to be quite tedious,” Blue Diamond would complain to her fellows. And Pearl would tell herself they were the most exciting things ever, and take care to hang onto every word.

“The rebellion’s end cannot come soon enough,” Blue Diamond would snarl after being informed of yet another raid on Kindergarten. And Pearl would tell herself that she hoped the rebels never, ever lost.

She’d tell herself these things, and she’d repeat them, in her head, again and again and again. And when Blue Diamond’s emotions washed over her, drowning out everything else, Pearl would cling to those thoughts like a lifeline.

Real real real real real….

When Pink Diamond had been shattered, and Blue Diamond had cried, and her grief had struck Pearl to the ground, shaking and sobbing and clawing at herself, Pearl had told herself words she didn’t feel: I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I’m glad she’s gone.

But with every passing century, it became harder and harder and harder to tell what was real. Which thoughts had been put there by someone else, which thoughts Pearl had created just to be contrary, which thoughts were true and genuine… they blended together, fused, until they resembled little more than one of those shambling shard experiments.

Still Pearl held tight onto her mantras, repeating them ad nauseum… but with every repetition they lost weight.

The words in her mind were just that-- words. They felt so feeble, so fragile, so easy to dismiss as fiction.

Pearl missed someone. Of that she was sure. Someone she had lost, who was gone, someone she would never see again.

She just wasn’t entirely sure who.

Pink Diamond’s face hovered in Pearl’s mind.

Not real not real not real not real...

Maybe yes. Maybe no. But still, there were days, where Pearl longed for nothing more than to see her just once more.

--

Eventually, that day came.

Blue Diamond wasn’t there. Wasn’t looking over Pearl’s shoulder, wasn’t manipulating her thoughts. Hopefully, she never would again.

Pearl clenched her fists.

Whatever she felt then would be wholly her own.

In front of her was another Pearl.

This Pearl stood tall, head held high. (Unseemly.) Her outfit was a bizarre mix-match of colors. (Garish.) She clutched a spear in her hand. (Disgraceful.) Her diamond had been replaced by a five pointed star. (Sacrilegious.)

“You’re alive,” Pearl said.

“So I am,” agreed the rebel. She gave a satisfied smile, and it was beautiful.

Pearl stood there, trying to sort through the confused tangle of emotions deep in her core; betrayal, shock, joy, grief, relief, anger, disgust, wonder…

Finally, Pearl answered, with some surprise on her part: “I missed you.”

(It hadn't been Pink Diamond after all. This was the Gem Pearl had wished and wished she could see again.)

She was rewarded with an even brighter smile, the rebel Pearl banishing her spear and stepping closer. “Well, I rather missed you too.”

Pearl was seized with an impulse, so sudden and fierce, that she barely realized what she was doing. She reached forward, pulled the other Pearl in by the shoulders, and pressed her lips against hers.

“Oh!” the rebel managed, and then answered with a kiss in kind.

And the joy that burned through Pearl was real real real real.

[lesbirdan]

my oc is "nugget pearl"

i relate strongly to nugget pearl

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

The Morning Watch

Another quick ficlet sprung from a very specific mental image and to get me out of the headspace that everything I write needs to be a big thing I’ve been agonising over for the past year or something silly like that (giant WIP pile? never heard of her). And also because pearls (and jackets).

Pearl and Pink Pearl, sometime shortly after Change Your Mind. ~1600 words.

---

The Morning Watch

“Here.”

It’s part of her light construct, of course, and not an actual jacket. But with just a bit of focus she can make it solid enough, real enough, heavy and warm enough to match anything she might find in one of Amethyst’s piles. And she knows very well how much comfort can be derived from simple, gentle, enveloping and grounding pressure.

And… well, she hopes the gesture counts, as well. The other pearl’s… Pink Pearl’s shoulders are trembling, and it is just too much, the way her hands grasp at her sides and her arms, the way she is trying to shrink into herself, as if she wants to disappear.

So Pearl makes sure to approach the other pearl from her unmarked side where she can be easily seen, and give ample warning as she shrugs the jacket off her own and drapes it over her shoulders instead. Makes sure to sit at her right, both of their legs dangling off the palm of the Temple’s hand, high above the beach. She also knows to keep from very abrupt movements - perhaps sadly, she isn’t exactly inexperienced in this.

Though, usually… usually it would have been Rose handling this part, with her healing, soothing tears and flowery words full of welcome and promise. Or Bismuth with her easy and warm manner and almost contagious ability to just, as she said, ‘roll’ with most of anything. But, well, this is hardly a usual case. And besides, times change, and Pearl adapts - with no small amount of pride.

“Okay?” Pearl asks, softly, and the other pearl nods, burrowing into the not-fabric as it is carefully wrapped around her. Her hands grasp at the hem and lapels of the jacket now, as the crisp breeze of just before dawn plays with it. It’s just big enough to hide the subtle tremor in those narrow shoulders, even if it doesn’t quite reach fully down her back.

Pearl studies her as she gazes out across the ocean and wonders idly if she even knows what an ocean is. If she’s ever seen one before, on some far off colony visit, before the lapis lazulis got called in to do their work.

She takes in the pale skin with the slightest brush of pink hue, the perfect rolls of rosy hair, and the worried little frown her lips are pursed in. The strange, slightly numb tiredness imprinted around her eye and the webbing of cracks running over the other, marks which the pearl lifts her hand and runs her fingers over every so often, almost as some sort of nervous habit.

No matter what Homeworld may think, they are not the same, and they are most certainly two very different, distinct, absolutely individual persons. But so much of… this feels so familiar, and so much of it like looking in a pink-tinted mirror.

“I’ve never been here before,” that small voice speaks up, so much more like hers than Yellow’s stringent, demanding one, or Blue’s soft whispers. To a discomfiting extent, perhaps.

And of course she hasn’t been to Earth, but Pearl doesn't interrupt, and lets her proceed at her own pace. By the time Pink Diamond got anywhere near her first colony, there was nothing pink about Pink Pearl anymore - in her place, something approaching the ideal pearl, the helpful little doll under perfect control.

Control going even beyond an Order, taking over your limbs, rooting you in place or sending you off to do something without the slightest chance of protest or resistance. So… violating, and especially so after all she’s gone through to win every possible scrap of independence. Pearl has to stop to wonder which is worse, and if something like that should even be compared. Being denied the possible sanctuary of your own mind, your own thoughts, and any awareness at all - or remaining fully conscious of being puppeteered around.

She shudders, and finds herself oddly thankful she doesn’t remember much of their mercifully brief time in White’s head. And then she feels a stab of awful, biting guilt, because Steven and Connie had to face so much on their own in there, and she, their guardian and teacher, failed them both like that…

But then, drawing her back into the moment, a touch. Pink Pearl noticed something off, perhaps - or perhaps she is just drawing comfort from wherever she feels she can find it. Whatever the case, she is pressed against Pearl’s side now, so Pearl takes it a small step further and puts a slow, careful arm around her, reaching over the bright yellow star.

“Is this alright?”

Her response is a nod, and shoulders relaxing the slightest bit under her touch.

They sit immersed in the quiet for a while, until Pink Pearl speaks up again uncertainly. “This is her planet… this is where she…?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about what happened. About... her. Everything.” The eagerness purely because she can now is only a part of her desire to share this, and with this Gem in particular. This pearl she never got to know, but with whom she seems to share so much.

“And she’s really… gone?”

“Yes,” Pearl confirms slowly again. There is such a finality to it now, to something near-unthinkable that she’s been struggling with for what feels like so long. Even if, in the end, it was merely a blink of an eye in Gem terms. And even if it ended up being so strangely, frighteningly simple. Gone. “Yes, she is.”

“But then… what do I do now?”

Lost, so lost.

Pearl meets her wide, worried eye, strained with the beginnings of tears, and decisively stomps down on the painful sense of familiarity. Instead, she gives her best encouraging smile.

“Well, first, it might help to know that there’s no rush. You don’t have to do anything just now. Taking your time is… perfectly fine. In fact, I recommend it.”

Pink Pearl looks away, frowning, but Pearl presses on, free hand gesturing excitedly.

“You can stay here at the beach house with us for as long as you want. Forever, even! We can certainly make room, or make a room, and Bismuth, oh, that one’s always itching for new projects. But there’s also an entire world out there to get to know, with all sorts of people and Gems in it. And then - if we just get you a ship, which really shouldn’t be much of an issue anymore - an entire universe!”

Pearl stops herself just a bit too late, noticing she’s gotten carried away and has slipped far past overwhelming, and her pink counterpart is drawing back into herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says more softly, and sighs, rubbing gentle circles where she’s holding the other pearl’s shoulder. “Listen. What I mean to say is just… I know ‘whatever you want’ seems unfathomable, and, well, impossible. And entirely unhelpful when it feels like you want nothing in the galaxy as much as you want some simple direction. But it’s the truth. We can start off slowly, and find something you like, and work from there.”

Pink Pearl nods, and for a while it seems like that’s the end of the discussion, the rest of it packed away for some other day.

But then: “I liked the juggling,” Pink Pearl pipes up, rather suddenly, sitting up and almost dislodging both Pearl’s arm and the jacket.

“I really did, I wasn’t just saying that to make her happy. I even...” She trails off, and after a moment continues in what could almost be termed a conspiratorial whisper, a shy bit of blush painted across her cheeks. “I tried to learn how to do it myself, while I was alone during council meetings… it was supposed to be a surprise, maybe, but I never got to-- I wasn’t very good at it anyway, it’s so much harder than it looks.”

Pearl blinks for a moment, then latches onto the opening provided by more (and more lively) words than she’s ever heard Pink Pearl speak. “Well, that’s… that’s excellent! There you go, something to start with. A bit unorthodox, perhaps, yes, but an interesting challenge, and one that requires quite a bit of skill and perseverance. We’ll just… make sure you practice outside the house.”

It’s enough to prompt Pink Pearl’s first real smile, small and hesitant though it may be. Pearl feels a grin pull at her own lips and a sense of victory bloom in her chest as they both turn back towards their lovely ocean view.

“It’s very quiet here.”

“It’s a bit early for the humans,” Pearl explains, then reconsiders. “Did you mean that as a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure.” Pink Pearl squirms under the jacket a bit, and pulls at it where it starts to slide down off her shoulder. “Good, I think. For now. But I don’t think I’d want it to be quiet forever.”

Pearl hums. “No, I wouldn’t either. As relaxing as it can be, one does appreciate the distraction, eventually.”

The horizon is tinged with the start of morning light, the slightest bit of purple already spilling over and mixing in the sky. The stillness does indeed begin to ebb (though thankfully still free of seagulls), and there, not too far off, a fishing boat returning mars the calm surface of the sea as well.

“You know,” Pearl begins, echoing the earlier slightly surreptitious tone, “if we stay here a little while longer, we’ll get to see something wonderful.”

“Oh?” It’s a very soft sound of genuine curiosity, and Pearl feels an immense need to nurture and encourage every bit of it.

“Oh yes! We can watch the planet’s sun rise over the horizon. It’s quite a sight, and the particularities of the atmosphere add some lovely elements to the visual. Would you like to see?”

A moment of consideration, and pink hands worrying at the lapels of a jacket, then straightening them out.

“Yes. I think I’d like that.”

[hazelwander]

I hope you're happy, now that you've chosen this. Because I can't go with you.

Sometimes, Pearl Solidarity doesn't always mean being together. It might mean being willing to let go.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Think Of Yourselves As Pearls

A bit of a warmup, a bit of a brainstorming session, a bit of a vent, and a bit of an experiment, perhaps, in writing Yellow and Blue Pearl, and an attempt at a take on them that might go a bit against the grain.

Warnings for discussions of objectification, slavery, and abuse - your standard Homeworld Is Horrible fare. ~1700 words.

---

As time passes, the terror of the renegade pearl shifts and mutes into something more like inconvenience and annoyance, or simple outrage at the impropriety of the ideas contained in the very concept. A burst of widespread panic and fear that once led to impressively high-ranking gems going embarrassingly pearlless for a previously unthinkably long while turns instead into a quiet resentment. One that only occasionally flares up, and only ever in private, between a pearl and her owner, the true root of it mostly (and mostly deliberately) forgotten, suppressed.

Pearl has seen it all happen, faithfully and obediently at her Diamond’s side. She isn’t sure she could say, if asked, which of it was better and which was worse.

(Lucky, then, that nobody would ever think of asking her about much of anything. Luckier still that even if the thought of bothering her occurred to someone, it would be expressly dismissed by Yellow Diamond’s mere magnificent presence.)

They won, after all. Thoroughly defeated the rebels - the conclusion a given from the very onset, really. The uppity pearl got what was coming to her, as did the dastardly Rose Quartz, as did every last tragically or disgustingly misguided Gem in their entourage, as did their backwater planet. What better way to prove who was in the right and who was in the wrong?

And with enough time, a horror story becomes little more than a cautionary tale.

It was always bound to end badly, of course. A pearl fighting, taking up a weapon? Such matters are best left to quartzes. A pearl’s hands don’t belong on a sword, except to briefly hold one and perhaps help polish and maintain it, per her owner’s wish or need. Everyone knows their very gemetic makeup makes them plainly unsuited for any such thing, frail and dainty, lacking as they do the requisite strength. It’s impossible for a pearl to ever pose a threat to anyone, even if she, for some unfathomable reason, tried to. They are weak and fragile and it is a simple, undeniable truth of the universe, and Yellow Diamond is generous enough with reminders, lest it ever slip Pearl’s mind.

And then, the stories of the pearl inserting herself into cockpits, insisting on occupying the captain’s seat? Of claiming to possess the knowledge and skills of a pilot, or of a technician? Pure nonsense and a silly attempt at propaganda. Clear fabrications. No pearl alive could make sense of something like that, all of it quite beyond any of them. Pearl does her best, of course, with the various systems her Diamond requires her to handle, administrative and logistical and otherwise. All of which she handles quite well, all things considered, and occasionally improves upon - her Diamond has never really said so, but Pearl knows, because she knows when her Diamond is pleased, because she has come to know very, very well when she is not. But all of that is something entirely different, of course.

Of course.

Blue Diamond’s pearl - now there is a perfect specimen. A true exemplar. Cause of envy - healthy and encouraging beneficial competition, to the gain of the empire as a whole! - in many a Gem.

Pearl can see it in their gazes, both fleeting and uncomfortably lasting and heavy, hear it in their words. They’re not seeing her, really, at all, when they look at the delectably demure and perfectly made little pearl in Blue Diamond’s shadow. They are seeing themselves with a pearl just like her, walking behind them, pretty head bowed, jumping to open doors for them, or sing, at their exact preferred volume, for them, or - for those desiring attention and rather more prone to courting scandal - on their own arm when out and about, if they so wish. Whatever they wish.

Such a good pearl. No wonder she’s inspired several slews of fashions and trends among pearl owners and pearl artisans both.

Pearl feels inadequate, sometimes, in comparison. Oh, they are equal in rank, of course, both in gem type and in the trickle-down prestige of who their owners happen to be. And Pearl is so very dedicated to doing what Yellow Diamond wants and needs of her - and so successful at it, most of the time. But she is too shrill, too often and too obviously in the way. Calls too much attention to herself and only manages, with great and clear effort where there should be none, to correctly reflect a small part of that towards her illustrious owner, where it belongs. No good at all at hiding her emotions - envious, often, of the highly convenient shroud of hair Blue Diamond’s pearl can easily hide behind - not that she’d ever need to, of course. Of course not. She is far too good at controlling her feelings and keeping them properly contained and not bothersome - why, her poor Diamond suffers enough as it is, her own grief more than enough to carry on one’s shoulders. What need could anyone, but her especially, ever possibly have for the insignificant, petty grievances of her pearl?

They have been meeting in person very often lately, their Diamonds, so Pearl sees a lot of her blue counterpart. It is only natural that she occupies her thoughts so.

Blue Diamond’s proximity has come to mean a lot more open weeping, too, for all of them. Her Diamond manages to control herself admirably even in the harshest of circumstances, but all Pearl herself can do is glare at Blue Diamond’s pearl through yet another onslaught of tears not entirely her own, envious of her oh-so-convenient hair, her tiny, decidedly not-messy and very restrained tears, and her outward calm borne of being very clearly accustomed to this barrage of foreign, intruding emotions.

There are matters at hand Pearl has to pretend not to understand, even as she makes sure everything is properly handled for her Diamond. Hints that their victory on the Earth colony may not have been as thorough as it had seemed. Upsetting things, for both Diamonds, who show it so very differently.

After the latest outburst and subsequent roomful of grief during an Earth-related planning meeting, after she’s wiped away the tiny hint of tears that dared show itself on her face, Yellow Diamond puts a gentle but firmly guiding arm around Blue Diamond’s shoulders, and they leave, pearls not needed - or wanted - at the moment.

As soon as they’re out of hearing range, Blue Diamond’s pearl makes a little huff of a sound that Pearl can’t quite parse. “We’re better off without them.”

Pearl doesn’t ask what happened to prompt this audibly bitter outburst - too shocked to even think to, or do anything but gape. The meaning of the words registers fully and she flinches at the invisible hand encasing her entire form, displeasure evident in each clenched finger, gripping, gripping-

“Look at you. You’re a mess.”

Pearl sputters, indignant. But there is a tiny blush of gratitude in her, too, for the other pearl cutting that particular spiral short.

“I thought you could be useful. That you could help me. But you’ve let her make you so scared.”

It is unkindly said. Cold. Downright cruel, perhaps, that edge present in it. And so very disappointed.

Of course I’m scared, Pearl wants to shout, but her mouth isn’t cooperating, and their Diamonds aren’t very far at all.

“I am useful!” she manages, instead, in a half-whispered burst. Of course she is useful, it is absolutely crucial. If she weren’t useful, she wouldn’t exist, and if she ceases to be useful, she will cease to exist - it’s all so very simple.

“Prove it, then. We need to warn them.”

“Warn...?”

“Help me get a message out to them, in secret. A message to Earth, about these plans for its destruction.” Then, suddenly much more kindly, and with the return of the softness that made her so very desirable, “I know you can work the terminals and screens like few other Gems.”

For a moment Pearl wants to disregard the blatant attempt at flattery - true though it may actually be - and ask the other pearl if she plans on running off to shamelessly cavort with a quartz, too. “Why do you care what happens to the Earth?”

“Where else will we go, once they get bored of us?”

It’s not something Pearl can pretend she’s never thought of. It’s a fear all of them share, to some extent or another. But the idea they could actually do something about it...

“And I-” A falter, for the first time. Pearl waits, and lets the other one collect herself again. “I have to go. Soon. While I can still-” She makes a grab at her gem, but interlaces her fingers just beneath it instead - trembling, now, just like her voice. “While I can still feel something and know it’s real, and mine.”

Pearl feels the remnants of that blue wave churning in her chest still, the pressure of it just behind her eyes, the desolate, consuming grief over someone she never really knew clawing at her throat. “I’ll help you,” she says, small, only half believing she is actually agreeing to something like this. Her reward is a smile - a tiny, very tentative one, but one she likes to think is real, and hers. Theirs.

“You should come too. I rather like seeing you whole.” The pearl grimaces. “I’m not as fond of the anticipation, every time. The fear that it won’t be you, but a new one.”

Pearl hates, above all, the thought that she has been so obvious, so transparent. That this pearl, this not-so-frequent visitor, can purport to understand her and her situation oh-so-well. That she is rather painfully right, on most counts. That Yellow Diamond is hardly the discreet, self-possessed Gem she is hailed as.

“I’ll…” Pearl stops, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, then all around them, and especially at the hallway their Diamonds disappeared into. Footsteps, deep and echoing. They are on the way back. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask,” the other pearl answers quietly. She brushes their fingers together, quick enough to make it feel almost like an afterthought, then moves so they are standing side by side, posture perfect, entirely still, entirely reputable, entirely hollow.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

What Keeps Gemkind Alive

Almost two years ago I went to a mineral expo, saw a display of pyrite cubes, and fell in love immediately… and also made a gemsona, which were all the rage back then - a golden tooth for a gem, a rapier, a pyrite pirate... and then never did anything with her.

So here’s a quick, dark, vengeful, and entirely non-nice thing, that isn’t about her at all, really, but about a pearl, because I’m predictable, and is pretty much a blatant Bertolt Brecht/Pirate Jenny reference slash revenge fantasy slash awful pun. Mildly odd self-indulgence, perhaps. Warnings for discussion of Homeworld treatment of pearls.

---

She’s always been a good pearl.

The commander was given her brand-new at the same time as she was honoured with this posting, so, barring the rare trips her commander’s had to take, pearl’s experience of other places is very limited.

The orbital port isn’t big, but its placement makes it a frequent maintenance stop for ships on several important routes. Pearl knows this is correct, because many Gems much more important and much smarter and most certainly more right than her in all things have told her this - and how kind of them to offer her, a pearl, pleasantly simple explanations of matters far beyond her!

She makes sure to smile at them, bright and grateful - but not too wide. She’s always been so good, so obedient, the frequent visitors and old-timers agree. But it’s a real shame, they say, that her smile isn’t as nice as the rest of her. There’s something sharp, something hiding just behind it that they know couldn’t possibly be there, and must have been a trick of the light. An unfortunately unappealing feature on a creature otherwise so successfully made to be appealing. So she bows her head demurely and keeps all but tiny slivers of her smiles to herself.

They all like the chance to pretend a pearl, this pearl, is theirs. And they feel safe in the knowledge that the commander, so loathe to leave her fine, private offices, will never find out.

Pearl doesn’t like how they look at her, or how they touch her, or how they don’t. How she can be grabbed and pulled and pushed whenever someone decides they feel like it, or how she can be made to stand quietly in a corner while the planet spins and spins and spins for endless cycles, without so much as a look thrown her way. But she is good and she has always been good and she stays in her corner and gazes, intently, out through the viewports. Oh, they have a laugh at that, of course. What could there possibly be out there, of interest to a pearl? What’s gotten into her pretty little head?

Pearl watches, and waits, until the agate, in charge of keeping the crowd of visitors and passengers and crew from becoming too rowdy, takes her by the arm and turns her so she’s facing the wall and her strange, unyielding stare isn’t bothering anyone any longer. Her eyes skim over the tiny dents where the corner plating is welded together instead of over the countless stars outside, and she doesn’t move until someone decides they want her to.

She cleans things, often. She likes how the metal reinforcements in the floor glitter when she polishes them, rich and gold, like something else entirely. She’s a good pearl, she really is, but she gets caught up in it, sometimes, and a helpful visiting Gem who sees her lost and staring will make sure to nudge her, bring her back to reality, back to work. Have a little chuckle at the poor pearl who can’t really help it, can she, so silly, so easily distracted by a bit of shiny mesh in the flooring.

She keeps the cupboards and shelves and storage in order in every bit of the station, from the commander’s impossibly pristine office to the always-grimy, always fuel-stained maintenance area. She takes care to straighten out and arrange even the endless mess of wires and cabling the comm team always leaves tangled.

She does all these things, and she waits, and she smiles, but only to herself, because she knows what she’s waiting for, and they -  they do not.

“Proximity alert, we have an unknown ship approaching-”

“Intruders on decks one to five!”

Pearl waits.

“Where’s our distress signal? What are you doing?”

“The comms are down, ma’am! The lines have been cut and there’s- interference- I can’t-”

Pearl waits.

The ground shakes and bulkheads crumble under fire, and in the chaos the station crew cries out- the attack came out of nowhere, they say, the sensor systems somehow failed to detect any intrusion in the security perimeter, and a growing number of panicked voices takes up a cry of sabotage-!

Pearl leaves her corner, because with everyone busy running for their lives there’s no one around anymore to tell her not to, and she steps out of the main hall and strolls towards the teeming escape pod hangars.

And then, oh, there she is, finally, finally-

Her hair glistens in the light of the turned-down jets, dancing even in the still air of the artificial atmosphere bubble. She scans the crowd, and when she spots Pearl her lips widen into a joyous grin, the glint of her gem-incisor perfectly eye-catching as she struts forward. Terrified, defeated citrine guards scamper out of her way, trying to hide in the rubble.

Her darling is golden all over, and she holds Pearl close and tells her how much she’s missed her.

“What took you so long?” Pearl whispers into her chest, clinging tightly.

“My dear, getting a ship is far from easy,” Pyrite murmurs into her hair. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want. All the time in all the worlds we talked about visiting, all yours and mine.”

Behind them, a citrine shuffles back into action, an improvised club raised above her hand - but she is slow and desperate, and a golden rapier, even distracted, makes short work of her.

“What should we do with the rest of them?” Pyrite asks, sounding almost bored as her crew rounds up the captured.

So Pearl considers her options, and ignores the scattered cries of you’re asking the pearl? from somewhere below her knees. It’s like she has done, in secret, retreating into herself to be alone with her thoughts, very many times before. Though there aren’t that many options she bothers to consider anymore, really - a bittersweet conclusion she’s come to a long time ago.

“I want them gone.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

All of them thought nothing of treating her like she was nothing.

Some cry out in fear, some plead for mercy, some try to put up a fight - all of it equally futile. Some of them crack, some shatter, some split clean in half.

Pyrite sends her crew back on board to prepare for takeoff, offers Pearl her arm, and promises she will never have to wait again.

The walk back down to the dock isn’t long at all, and the station is unusually, pleasantly, beautifully quiet.

The ship departs.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

“No one would design a Pearl to have a weapon, would they?”

“They would not. I’ve spent a very long time developing that ability, believe me. It was only supposed to be used to generate tools for my work. I was material weapons only for quite a while — you can't fight a war armed with a letter opener.” She paused, wondering whether to share this. She hadn't talked about it in so long, hadn't really thought about it. It had long since faded into irrelevance and she liked it that way. But it might help Jasper understand. “But you can, for example, stab your former owner and run away in terror of the consequences before the smoke clears.”

“What did she do to you?” Jasper asked, her eyebrows rising.

This was a big part of why she’d stopped talking about it, of course. People expected, even seemed to want to hear of something terrible inflicted on her to justify her actions. Or to make the story more satisfying somehow. If something like that had happened to her, what did they think it was like for her to have to keep describing it? She wasn't about to.

“She did one of the worst possible things. She owned me. She considered it her right to own me and what I thought or felt about it didn't matter. Everything else comes from that. She didn't need to be especially cruel or demanding for it to become unbearable.”

Jasper looked away, her lips moving briefly as if she considered and discarded a response. “Why do you think,” she asked very carefully, “most Pearls don't do that?”

“Prudence. Habitual obedience. Fear. Not just fear of how you would be punished if you were caught, but fear of the huge unimaginable unknown of what you would do and how you would live if you weren't caught.”

— Chapter 18 of Back to Beta by @airyairyquitecontrary

Now this is primarily a Jasperdemption/Cure for Corruption/Quartz Sis-centric ongoing story and you should absolutely take a look at it if any of those things are your jam, but a bit into the fic it just super casually includes a brief segment with… well, I think the most apt way to describe it would be one of my all-time favourite takes on Pearl’s take on her own background and backstory and objectification. This particular quote really stuck with me, and it comes to mind a lot, especially when I see “Good Slaveowner” arguments thrown about.

[hazelwander]

So Homeworld might have gotten to the staff. I had two posts randomly marked sensitive (without any notifications?) both of which were non-explicit Pearls Positive Posts.

Be wary, comrades.

[hazelwander]

I want li'l Pearl figurines for my desk. Like, articulated and palm sized. But they're not there to look pretty and hold things, oh no. Does she want to art? What media? Music? Got'chu babe. Combat training? Sweet, try not to break anything tho. Overthrow the government? Bitchin, here's your own tablet and a mini keyboard with a trackpad. Lemme know if you need anything. Some solidarity going on up in this business.

Suggestions?

[pearldefiance]

It makes me so happy that people love Pearl so much they’ll even follow this little blog! THANK YOU!

I’ll put together a promo image to make it easier to recruit people ...