As Era 3 rolls on, two pairs of Pearls find themselves finding their way on Earth. They also find themselves with a bit of unusual homework assigned during the first lecture of Little Homeworld’s Pearl School, Which Is For Pearls. Includes such themes as picking names, breaking rules, dealing with inevitable Homeworld baggage, fun beach times, and generally, as I’ve seen in a beautiful, beautiful AO3 tag by @pearldefiance, “Pearls embracing their own interests & identities (and each other)”. ~3000 words.
The fic features Pearl OCs Wine and Blush created by @huecy and Sandy and Lavender by @outerspace-iiinnerspace. Huecy was my art partner for the zine and drew a lovely illustration for the fic which can be found here. Enjoy!
There is no scrambling for purchase, or a trace of fumbling as the stack of holopads is thrust at her. No, she’s a well-made pearl, and well-practiced in this. The pads are surprisingly cool to the touch, smooth, perfect, and new, and they stay perfectly balanced, screen-up, in her hold.
“Deliver to Iolite Facet 2 Cut 4B2.”
Ah, no new corner of Homeworld to be discovered this time - just the well-trod path up to the laboratories. She knows these hallways and these walls. Waves a small, quick greeting to one, in passing - a frequent conversation partner with a fascinatingly textured relief decorating her front.
It is her twenty third errand that cycle. The Iolite will probably have her wait until she drafts a reply and send her right back, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll be sent off to collect sample lists from one of the new research stations. She’s yet to see them.
She’d like that, she thinks.
-
Sandy it says on her name tag, in blue ink over grooves where she first pressed in with a sharp pencil. Smudged some, from where she ran her fingers over it just a bit too soon in her eagerness, as always, to touch.
When she leaves her little bowl alone and lets the liquid settle, an odd sediment gathers, and when she swirls it around, this way, then that–
Fascinating. Soothing, maybe. And the miniature spheres it’s made from - grapes. The humans showed her, laughed when she took one of the little things between her fingers and popped it, making a mess.
One thing turning into another. Strange processes that her Lavender had known the explanation and the chemical formulae for somehow, and had offered it all gladly, because Sandy knew better than to ask.
Her other hand she runs through the little wisps of pale hair on Lavender’s neck, soothing and soft. One of her favourite sensations - the other, not having to hide. Not having to steal moments and wait and wonder, endlessly: will I ever see you again?
She lets go of the little wine bowl, setting it down next to the water cup and the mug of coffee and the odd conical container she’s forgotten the name of, bearing marks of melted ‘ice cream’ (not a very good container, honestly). Instead, she idly plays with the bits of gravel on the path she’s sitting on, and observes the gathering crowd.
So many Pearls here - most of them eager, all of them excited, aflutter in ways ranging from what only a fellow Pearl could recognise (tiny flickers of movement, fingers tangling in a dance) to loud, open displays. Most of them nervous, too.
And all of them very, very early.
Her grasp of Earth time is still somewhat tenuous, but she knows enough to tell that there’s quite a while to go until the scheduled start of class. The sun needs to be far lower in the sky, for one.
But the warp pad nearby activates all of a sudden, and, ah– their instructor for the day, the infamous Renegade Pearl, is early as well. Of course she’d know to be– she’s just as much a Pearl as all of them. Sandy smiles at the odd thought, and moves to get up and gather her things.
She has time enough to get her little containers into her satchel and is picking up the wine bowl, left for last, when her vision is promptly filled with dark purple. Not even a “Look out–!” makes it out fully before one of the other Pearls crashes into her, and they both tumble to the ground.
-
A large hand comes down around her, adjusts her limbs into position, smooths her hair, arranges the billowy ends of her appearance modifiers.
“I have made you in my image with the greatest care. After all, it wouldn’t do for a master to be accompanied by anything less than a perfect representation of her craft, and I will not be overshadowed.”
Pearl says nothing. Stands, perfectly poised, unmoving. There is another pearl there, but she doesn’t turn to look at her. The colours on her don’t match the Gem before them both. So she is not relevant, at the moment.
“I have given you my voice. My perfect spokesgem. An extension of me. How… useful, indeed.”
She remains quiet, and does not put this statement to the test.
“Good. You will know when I want you to speak.”
-
Spilled traces of a strange-smelling liquid, blending with her own dark red colouring, are the first things she makes sense of after her rather ungracious tumble. The second is another Pearl trying to drag them both back to their feet, all aflutter with apology.
“Oh no! I am so sorry, how clumsy of me! Here, let me just–”
She wants to shout that it’s fine, get away – as the other Pearl dabs at her front with a handkerchief produced not from her gem but from the little bag at her side. Instead she blurts out a very undignified “What is this?” in a voice that has never been meant for anything but perfect dignity.
This makes the other Pearl - Sandy, her tag proclaims her - stop, almost frozen, until she launches into a ramble. “The humans call it wine! They make it themselves. It’s a fascinating process, really, and the stages and byproducts are wildlydiverse–”
She tunes out the rest fairly quickly when her gaze drops down to the blank nametag on her own front.
Unlike her, dear Blush got a nickname fairly quickly upon coming to Earth - a sweet disposition coupled with appealing colouration seems to have made it easy, somehow. But she herself has no idea how to approach this, not after centuries of self-effacement and obliteration of any sign of anything outside of what She wanted, what She needed. Her voice coming out of Pearl’s throat because that is how She made her…
Pearl shudders, and very deliberately pushes the thoughts aside.
Her nametag is glaringly empty, deep purple-red stains aside, a strange bother even with all the assurances that there’s no rush whatsoever, that it’s fine to wait and put something meaningful there, that there is no pressure and, oh, should she want to change whatever she picked, that is of course perfectly normal and fine–
She glances down at her arm, the now barely discernible stain the colour of the gem at the small of her back, then at all the Pearls milling about - not a blank nametag to be seen.
Colour-based names are a very popular choice–
Earth phenomena you will become familiar with during your stay–
It doesn’t have to mean anything, whatever strikes your fancy–
She grabs the pen she was given together with the tag and scrawls– well, being a fine Pearl, even her scrawl is elegant cursive:
Wine
A small bubble of some giddy feeling rises in her, and the thought: I need to show Blush. She pushes forward with all the others, the entire group suddenly moving towards the classroom, noticing their teacher has arrived. And as if on cue, Blush is at her side. Quiet but warm. A familiar, comforting presence as they navigate yet another new Earth experience together, and move to find a seat in the auditorium.
The crowd is nothing if not spontaneously organised, Pearls lining up in a very orderly fashion. Wine, with Blush in tow, ends up next to the two from outside - Sandy, still bearing some traces of spilled wine on her skirt, and - Wine squints - Lavender. But before she can say a word and bring up the oddly significant incident from moments before, Blush takes her hand, and turns her attention to the improvised podium, where a very recognisable Pearl stands ready to speak.
“Welcome, everyone, to this year’s Pearl Orientation class!” The Renegade is not terrifying at all, except perhaps in subtle, mere suggestions of things. The look of her entire, unique and somehow untouchable, bearing a strange sort of promise. It’s not the first time they’ve all seen her - she was there, handing out the nametags and offering helpful and not-so-helpful advice, and a chaotic selection of earthly writing implements.
She waves her hands around happily as she talks, then clasps them in front of herself. “Now, I do not intend for this to be an ex-cathedra type of class. Past experience has led to some, in my opinion, excellent methodology… very collaborative and horizontal! So while I am more than happy to provide advice and pointers and guidance, I in no way wish to present any kind of strict authority. How ever…”
The pause is brief but the excitement oddly real, and Wine feels herself want to lean forward in anticipation.
“I do have homework for you to start us off! That is, a small task for you to try to complete - not for anyone’s benefit but your own. Your task is to go forth…” the Renegade’s voice lowers dramatically, “…and deliberately break a rule! Tomorrow evening I would like to hear each of you give a report on your experiences doing this: consider your motivations and reasoning, and why you picked whatever you end up picking.”
A lavender hand shoots up next to Wine’s head with almost frightening speed. “Excuse me!”
“Yes, uh,” the Renegade’s eyes flick down to the nametag quickly, “Lavender?”
“I am completing the task. By refusing to do the home work.” Lavender states very matter-of-factly, unblinking gaze fixed on their instructor.
“I… that is– well, quite creative, to be sure! Of course something like this crops up every so often - Pearls and the creative misinterpretation of orders, name a more iconic duo, ahaha!” She pauses at the blank stares. “It’s, oh, just something Steven showed me. Never you mind. I think Lavender here has quite a grasp of things already, and I am excited to hear her contributions to the discussion tomorrow. Now, off you all go! Feel free to consult with myself or my assistant Volleyball here,” a pale pink Pearl turns to wave at them all from the front row, “if you have any concerns or questions at all.”
They file out - and Wine is certain it isn’t just her imagination - a little less orderly than before.
-
Layer by layer, carefully applied. Perfectly aligned for perfect refraction, the exact hue and saturation at the exact angle. Not one light mote out of place.
One final touch, that in some other, kinder universe might even be termed loving. An indelible mark of her creator, a signature. Proof of artistry. Guarantee of quality. A proclamation of superb craftsmanship for all to see and admire.
And envy.
-
It’s when they’ve, still hand in hand, split away from the other Pearls, some way away from the classroom down the path towards the nearby cliffside, that Blush makes her move.
“I need your help. With the homework.”
“Oh?” Wine slows down, looking mildly curious.
“I need you to dissipate my form,” Blush states matter-of-factly.
“I…What?” The shock is perhaps a bit more severe than she’s anticipated.
“I want… I want the mark… gone.” Blush’s voice is as soft as always, but with an underlining of something new and rather… steely. Determined. Like…
Come away with me–
Like the last time she took a… calculated risk with Wine ( what a darling name, her mind supplies, I was starting to worry she’d never– for herself– ).
“I won’t be long,” Blush insists, “you know I won’t. Nobody will even realise–”
“I will.”
It stops her cold, the passionate feeling in Wine’s voice, still straining to stay somewhat quiet, and the immense fear and concern in her eyes.
Wine reaches over to take her hand back in hers - the hand Blush hasn’t even realised she’s pressed to her neck. Hiding that precise, elegant little engraving, the burning reminder of her origin as a pretty little thing to be exhibited and gazed upon.
Despite the beautiful relief of the fact she doesn’t have to anymore, Wine looks around them quickly, before pressing a gentle kiss where the hand had been.
“If… if it bothers you so much…” She’s never heard Wine so hesitant before, so small. “A– a scarf, maybe? No one will be able to see it! No one will know it’s there–”
“I will,” Blush echoes quietly. Deliberately. Her words hit some mark, but she doesn’t get to know what it is.
“Oh! Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” It’s Sandy, walking up to them, quite unrepentant. “I just wanted to let you know I had an idea for our assignment - a place Lavender and I found… running around the area. You’re welcome to come with me if you want! I’m sure she’ll be coming as well, even though she’s done with the homework.”
It sounds like pride, and it gives Blush a bit of pause.
“I’d love to go,” Blush acquiesces, very politely and sweetly. “Wouldn’t you, Wine?”
-
It’s been three cycles since she’s last moved. A long lull in the endless sequence of Gems passing by the little desk pearl is stationed behind, still, unblinking, ready with whatever factoid they require for continued functioning and/or fulfilment of their duties.
If someone was to ask her, if someone needed the information for some strange, unfathomable reason - she would say she far prefers the uneventful to the busy days. Just her, the flow of information at her fingertips, the incredible things she knows and that no one ever thinks to ask, and the quiet.
-
Lavender found the place, and many others, after taking off near-immediately upon exiting the ship and taking her first steps on Earth - she has no desire to be particularly still anymore. No more sitting around, waiting for another one of the endless, inane questions, and waiting her entire existence away.
It’s a beach, not unlike the one near the Crystal Gems’ Temple, and not far from it either. This one, however, is surrounded by a tall wire fence, plastered with a variety of fairly threatening-looking signs.
She knows the sign above says “No Trespassing - Private Property” and the one right below “No Loitering” in the human script she absorbed with the lightning speed she absorbs any other tidbit of information with. She shared as much with Sandy immediately upon taking her to see it, just like she shares it with the two somewhat more lost-seeming Pearls now - and why not, especially after Sandy’s quite literal run-in with one of them earlier? All in all it seems ideal for this ‘home work’ business, in addition to being quite a lovely place.
Lavender doesn’t know how many grains of sand there are on this beach, but she knows Sandy would gladly bury her hands and run her fingers through all of them, and she knows it’d be a delight to watch.
She doesn’t know a lot of things, now. She’s the one asking, sometimes. But it’s never really been about knowing. And Sandy, oh, Sandy always listens and never asks anything except, perhaps, a gentle is this alright?
It makes her feel like boasting, just a bit. And they’ve all been so awkwardly quiet on the way here, with barely a word as the four of them climbed to sit atop the highly forbidden fence.
“Sandy here–” she places a pale lavender hand on her shoulder, as Wine and Blush look over, “holds a record of both number of steps travelled and distance as the Lapis Lazuli flies covered during her deliveries.”
“That sounds like an exaggeration, but if you say it, then I’m sure it’s a fact! That’s right, I’ve been all over Homeworld!” Sandy exclaims, rolling the Ls around her mouth. “Doing all my, hm, little errands. But I’ve never seen either of you around, you know– before.”
Ah, the before. Lavender can see, in all her little tells like the quirk of her lips and the tilt of her chin, that Sandy regrets bringing it up almost immediately.
Wine clears her throat somewhat uncomfortably. “The Gem we… who made us… she wasn’t much of an entertainer.”
“That’s a shame.” There’s a soft, almost pitying look on Sandy’s face. But there’s a knowing note to it, too. “But at least… at least you had each other. And that’s rather the key, isn’t it?”
“It was for me,” Lavender agrees softly, and holds Sandy just a bit closer. There is a moment of quiet calm, as they listen to the waves lap at the shore.
“If you all don’t mind,” Sandy pipes up, giving Lavender’s hand a quick squeeze before hopping down, “I’m going to gift whichever human is in charge of monitoring this very off-limits area a sand castle. To highlight the rule-breaking and all, you understand.”
Lavender nods sagely. “Of course. You go on ahead, I’ll be right there.”
She lingers a little ways down the beach, however, as she catches the snippets of a heartfelt conversation on the breeze.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier… I like your name.” Blush whispers.
“I like you,” Wine insists back. “And I just think…” She hesitates, putting the words together carefully and deliberately, like Sandy aligning meticulously chosen pebbles on the path around her little sand moat, just up ahead.
“You were made with great care, and your creation was a point of pride– maybe it doesn’t have to matter who it was by, or why. Not anymore. And I just think maybe you should be the one who gets to enjoy it, now. Am I making any sense?”
“Maybe,” Blush echoes quietly.
“We may have all the time in the world, but I don’t want to miss a moment with you. But more importantly, I… I don’t think you should have to miss a moment of it, either.”
Lavender can’t help a smile as she turns to leave the two to their discussion. There is a deep current of feeling and meaning and figuring so much out running there, and it’s not her place - or anybody’s - to interfere. And besides, what for? They’re all of them doing an excellent job of breaking every rule imposed on Pearls from the moment of that first nacreous layer taking form.
The Earth sun is orange-red on the ocean, hanging low and dipping ever lower, as they perch on the fence, right above the signs.
Since the lovely project that is the @hundredsofpearls-zine is reaching completion and has opened preorders (get it before the end of July!), it’s time to preview the work I did for it.
My fic features two pairs of Pearl OCs finding their way on Earth: Wine and Blush created by @huecy and Sandy and Lavender by @outerspace-iiinnerspace. Here’s a little excerpt, featuring a Pearl picking a name, and Little Homeworld’s Pearl School, Which Is For Pearls.
-
“Oh no! I am so sorry, how clumsy of me! Here, let me just–”
She wants to shout that it’s fine, get away– as the other Pearl dabs at her front with a handkerchief produced not from her gem but from the little bag at her side. Instead she blurts out a very undignified “What is this?” in a voice that has never been meant for anything but perfect dignity.
This makes the other Pearl - Sandy, her tag proclaims her - stop, almost frozen, until she launches into a ramble. “The humans call it wine! They make it themselves. It’s a fascinating process, really, and the stages and byproducts are wildlydiverse–”
She tunes out the rest fairly quickly when her gaze drops down to the blank nametag on her own front.
Unlike her, dear Blush got a nickname fairly quickly upon coming to Earth - a sweet disposition coupled with appealing colouration seems to have made it easy, somehow. But she herself has no idea how to approach this, not after centuries of self-effacement and obliteration of any sign of anything outside of what She wanted, what She needed. Her voice coming out of Pearl’s throat because that is how She made her…
Pearl shudders, and very deliberately pushes the thoughts aside.
Her nametag is glaringly empty, deep purple-red stains aside, a strange bother even with all the assurances that there’s no rush whatsoever, that it’s fine to wait and put something meaningful there, that there is no pressure and, oh, should she want to change whatever she picked, that is of course perfectly normal and fine–
She glances down at her arm, the now barely discernible stain the colour of the gem at the small of her back, then at all the Pearls milling about - not a blank nametag to be seen.
Colour-based names are a very popular choice–
Earth phenomena you will become familiar with during your stay–
It doesn’t have to mean anything, whatever strikes your fancy–
She grabs the pen she was given together with the tag and scrawls– well, being a fine Pearl, even her scrawl is elegant cursive:
Wine
A small bubble of some giddy feeling rises in her, and the thought: I need to show Blush. She pushes forward with all the others, the entire group suddenly moving towards the classroom, noticing their teacher has arrived. And as if on cue, Blush is at her side. Quiet but warm. A familiar, comforting presence as they navigate yet another new Earth experience together, and move to find a seat in the auditorium.
The crowd is nothing if not spontaneously organised, Pearls lining up in a very orderly fashion. Wine, with Blush in tow, ends up next to the two from outside - Sandy, still bearing some traces of spilled wine on her skirt, and - Wine squints - Lavender. But before she can say a word and bring up the oddly significant incident from moments before, Blush takes her hand, and turns her attention to the improvised podium, where a very recognisable Pearl stands ready to speak.
“Welcome, everyone, to this year’s Pearl Orientation class!” The Renegade is not terrifying at all, except perhaps in subtle, mere suggestions of things. The look of her entire, unique and somehow untouchable, bearing a strange sort of promise. It’s not the first time they’ve all seen her - she was there, handing out the nametags and offering helpful and not-so-helpful advice, and a chaotic selection of earthly writing implements.
She waves her hands around happily as she talks, then clasps them in front of herself. “Now, I do not intend for this to be an ex-cathedra type of class. Past experience has led to some, in my opinion, excellent methodology… very collaborative and horizontal! So while I am more than happy to provide advice and pointers and guidance, I in no way wish to present any kind of strict authority. However…”
The pause is brief but the excitement oddly real, and Wine feels herself want to lean forward in anticipation.
“I do have homework for you to start us off! That is, a small task for you to try to complete - not for anyone’s benefit but your own. Your task is to go forth…” the Renegade’s voice lowers dramatically, “…and deliberately break a rule! Tomorrow evening I would like to hear each of you give a report on your experiences doing this: consider your motivations and reasoning, and why you picked whatever you end up picking.”
A lavender hand shoots up next to Wine’s head with almost frightening speed. “Excuse me!”
“Yes, uh,” the Renegade’s eyes flick down to the nametag quickly, “Lavender?”
“I am completing the task. By refusing to do the home work.” Lavender states very matter-of-factly, unblinking gaze fixed on their instructor.
“I… that is– well, quite creative, to be sure! Of course something like this crops up every so often - Pearls and the creative misinterpretation of orders, name a more iconic duo, ahaha!” She pauses at the blank stares. “It’s, oh, just something Steven showed me. Never you mind. I think Lavender here has quite a grasp of things already, and I am excited to hear her contributions to the discussion tomorrow. Now, off you all go! Feel free to consult with myself or my assistant Volleyball here,” a pale pink Pearl turns to wave at them all from the front row, “if you have any concerns or questions at all.”
They file out - and Wine is certain it isn’t just her imagination - a little less orderly than before.
We’re offering the zine in both physical and PDF form, a sheet of 10 stickers, 4 pins, 4 double-sided charms, a poster, and a deck of trading cards featuring most of the Pearls in the zine. Additionally, we offer four different bundles so you can save money and get even more Pearl love!
It’s an absolute joy to announce our list of contributors!
We’re thrilled to have 53 contributors working on this zine! Each of these creators are creative, passionate, and incredibly talented, and we can’t wait to show you what the team creates.
See below the cut for a full list of links to contributors’ pages!
I have been really quiet here for a while for a variety of reasons, but here I am now, popping up to share that I am taking part in this lovely project as a writer, alongside some really cool people. It’s all coming along beautifully and I’ll be sharing more real soon.
Me, opening my eyes in the morning: Pearls. Pearls taking care of each other. Pearls developing subtle ways of communicating with each other and passing along warnings undetected. Pearls watching each other’s backs. Pearl solidarity. Pearls rebelling in tiny but meaningful ways and gaining courage and waiting for a tipping point. Pearls sharing knowledge and scraps of information with each other and teaching each other skills and piecing together bits and pieces and learning things together. Pearls giving each other names as a very personal act of rebellion. Pearls tentatively adopting physical demonstrations of affection when out of sight. Pearls drawing comfort from being in each other’s presence. Pearls.
UNESCO World Heritage Post
Shoutout to 2015 me, here for me years later, in my hour of need.
Honestly? If I wrote this post right now I don’t think I’d change a word.
Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pearl and Volley hanging out and having a good time in the background of other episodes but Volley’s left eye would always be hidden in contrived ways.
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 utterlypredictable 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.
“Nowyou, 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 activationandowner 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 trustsyou.“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.
Rosewas 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!”
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 meandI’m proud of youandI’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.
![[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe](https://64.media.tumblr.com/69aa871a163300932c124357acd0a436/18c28101c91d829e-4e/s640x960/5c4119d20b7dff276a2e5645b12c4d7034b55850.png "[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe")
![[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0d0c8d87ef8e4420e2f99295f8f39cf2/18c28101c91d829e-8e/s1280x1920/e6dec766b9f828dff69a01afac7a5e3f96c6b8a4.png "[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe")
![[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe](https://64.media.tumblr.com/338be1f158cf32fe1fcd8364213edc46/18c28101c91d829e-b4/s400x600/cb7c4747d7af003a0ecf7121f034a290e54a5692.png "[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe")
![[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe](https://64.media.tumblr.com/38535063c8acc8307e75bd15e4753e4a/18c28101c91d829e-4b/s400x600/46e0854f39f8141a9d029e2b555bb2eaa8021d65.png "[link to tweet]Fun fact: Once we boarded Volleyball, @cocoshonen and I joked that we should throw Pe")
