A hollow-formed discoid plaque with a later added central cabochon emerald. 16cm overall
Emeralds were among the gemstones known to the Ptolemaic Egyptians and later the Romans, who called them smaragdi. They were described by writers, such as Pliny the Elder in his Natural History. Although some emeralds would have come from India, early authors consistently referred to them as having come from the ancient emerald mines of Egypt, located near Sikait, about halfway between Luxor on the Nile River and Roman-era port city of Berenike on the Red Sea.
A natural Emerald specimen, on white Quartz matrix from Gilgit, Pakistan. There are seven vibrant green Emerald hexagonal prisms, with the main large crystal being doubly terminated. The specimen comes labelled with display box !
context: written from your POV. you are drunk and locked out of your apartment. Harry still has the key, although you broke up around a month ago.
“You didn’t need to come, Harry,” I groaned. “I can look after myself.”
The smile on his face was familiar, so knowing and almost sarcastic. So playful. I had to look away.
“Oh but I think I did, Y/n,” he placed both arms on my waist to stand me up, lifting me off the floor. “Because only one of us has your key, and that would be me.”
I turned away from him, rolling my eyes simultaneously.
“You can stop rolling your eyes at me too.”
“Fuck you, Harry.”
“Somehow, Y/n, I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
He placed me down on the sofa in my living room before heading himself into my kitchen.
“Water?” he offered, and i nodded reluctantly. He turned the tap and filled two glasses, bringing them over and taking a seat next to me. I watched discreetly as his eyes scanned round the surroundings, taking in the changes since he was last here. His expression was unreadable; it was one of deep thought. I paid attention to how his jaw clenched.
“What are you thinking?”
As soon as I spoke a mellow smile found it’s way onto his face. He shook his head softly before looking back at me.
His voice was incredibly quiet, and soothing. It made me sad almost. I felt tears arise my eyes.
“Hey,” he moved closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong love?”
I shook my head, pleading silently for the tears to stop falling.
“It’s just - I don’t know. You sit here and you’re so nice to me. But tomorrow I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again,” my eyes remained on my lap. “I think, I miss you a lot, Harry. You never come to me anymore. You leave me waiting all the time.”
My words were a fast slur of emotion, and somehow I could not stop them flying out of my mouth. Harry only moved his hand to my soft pale cheek. He wiped the tears away with his thumb, careful not to smudge my makeup. I sniffed.
“Oh y/n,” he sighed, softly, his hand still on my face. “You always were a sad drunk weren’t you? It’s nice to see some things don’t change.”
“A truthful drunk,” I corrected him quietly. “Sad person generally.”
“Hey hey, don’t speak like that. You’re an incredible person, Y/n.”
He pulled me into him, stretching out his limbs so I could lie with him. I rested my soggy face against his clean white shirt, the top two buttons undone, and traced the outline of the butterfly tattoo that lie underneath. His fingers traced patterns along the exposed skin of my back. It was comforting. So comforting.
“Harry?” I asked, so quiet I was not sure I had spoke at all.
“Why don’t you call anymore?”
His body seemed to tense underneath me. His hands followed suit, shaking slightly as he continued to stroke my skin. I knew Harry well enough to know he was not a fan of hurting people. It was his instinct to run at the first hurdle. But it was in my instinct to ask why.
“Because it’s what’s best for you,” he responded eventually, and I sat up.
“Since when do you get to decide what’s best for me Harry?” I raged, slurring my drunken words. He sat himself up, clasping my arms softly and holding me down on top of him innocently.
“You know I hurt you, Y/n. I can’t do that anymore. You’ll realise one day it’s what’s best for you.”
“I fucking hate when you do this,” anger span through my veins. “When you talk like I’m clueless. God I hate it when you do that.”
“Hey hey, shhh.” Harry placed a single long finger on my lips to calm me. I made the mistake of looking up at his eyes. The natural emerald swirls sucked me in, his face so soft looking and pale. Instantly I burst into tears.
“Baby no, please don’t cry.” He attempted to soothe me and I once again sank into him. I always sank into him. Pulling me onto his lap, he cradled me, as if I were an actual baby in his arms.
“I tried so hard for you and it was never enough,” I sobbed, convinced my own tears were about to start leaking spirits and cheap wine. “I gave you everything and I watched you drop it on the floor.”
“Please, Y/n,” the truth to him was clearly discomforting. Harry and I had not completely discussed the lengths and inspirations behind our break up yet; neither of us were particularly emotional people. However, I felt in this moment, he had the right to know.
“No, Harry, listen. You welcomed me in and you made me feel like you loved me, when nobody has ever loved me before, and then you left and you acted like we were simply strangers. And then you come here tonight-”
“Don’t ever say I didn’t love you,” his voice grew louder, almost fearful. “I loved you more than I knew how to handle, I still do, I always will-”
“And you come here tonight, and you act like a hero, and then tomorrow,” I was screaming now, all the emotions I had suppressed for years suddenly coming out. “Tomorrow, I’ll wake up sober, and alone. You’ll just fucking leave me again, you ALWAYS leave-”
Suddenly I was cut off by Harry’s lips angrily on mine. His cheeks were wet against my own, the honesty spewed from my mouth having a hard effect on him clearly, and I fell back against the sofa as he overtook me, climbing on top of me and pinning my hands above my head. Our lips swelled against eachothers.
“Don’t you dare fucking say I didn’t love you, I’ve always loved you,” he breathed against my mouth, his tongue making soft, teasing contact with my bottom lip. “I love you still. Always have and I always fucking will.”
His hard kiss moved to my jawline, and down to my neck as I ran my fingers through his chestnut curls.
“I fucking love you, Y/n.”
“Harry,” I breathed,
“Tell me you love me back. Tell me you still do.”
He tugged at the thin skin of my collarbones, looking up at me.
“Of course I love you Harry. I always have and I always fucking will.”
Prompt: Do you think you could make a sequel to the Warren hair dye one??
Note: Wowie! So part one was very popular and i got quite a few people interested in a part two. Here it is, well version 1.
Warnings: lil bit of language, brief mention of violence.
It had been two weeks since Y/N had returned to the mansion with the others and if Warren was quite honest it was going nowhere. At first he brushed it off, thinking they were probably just shy or getting used to life at the mansion but no. A whole two weeks had passed and they still hadn’t said a word to him. Occasionally Warren would see her talking to Hank or Professor Xavier, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Warren didn’t understand how you could talk to them and then just brush off your soulmate the next second. So far the only benefit had been that his eyes returned back to their natural emerald green and Y/N’s went back to y/e/c only becoming the beautiful golden colour when using her powers.
To say that Warren got jealous when Peter started talking to her was an understatement. Even when Jean was telling Y/N how to get to one of her classes, Warren stood slightly down the hall, a scowl heavily etched into his face, watching the scene unfold.
After the second week Warren was tired, tired of being jealous, getting annoyed at his friends, acting irrationally. An incident where Y/N had dropped her books Scott bent down to help before Warren proved to be his breaking point. Scott’s hand barely even brushed Y/N’s and she didn’t even notice but Warren sure as hell did. Once Y/N was out of sight Warren had his fists balled in Scott’s collar and pinned him up against the wall. Lucky for Scott, Professor Xavier and Hank had just come round the corner to stop Warren from throwing any punches. After that Warren had avoided his friends for the past two days.
Getting into the third week of Y/N being here, Warren still hadn’t been able to talk to her. Any attempt got shot down before he could even get a word out. Warren would see her walking down the corridor and as soon as their eyes met Y/N turned the other. So finally Warren took the hint and backed off.
Now Warren was finally relaxing, kind of. He decided to pay a visit to the pool which was surprisingly empty. Not a single soul was in the building but him. Yet it was almost comforting, Warren finally had time with just his thoughts, plus the water felt great. After around twenty minutes of floating about, he pulled himself to the edge of the pool on the furthest end from the entrance. It was partly shady there as the sun was beginning to set, cutting off the intense beams of light coming through the windows on the ceiling.
drowning in the middle of the spring/ the calling of the nature/ always changing, addictive/ emeralds doused in freedom/ the sea that lures you home/ aftertaste of melancholy/ bloosom without the flower/ mirrors with no beginning and no end