#Galleon Trade

[senseearly]

For so many years I have been a silent fan of mexpiri/mexphil because the pining of a LDR-ish situationship in the background of their own individual journeys for freedom and independence is just *chefs kiss*

Like they began as two beans taken from their pods, looking at each other like strange creatures while Spain told them to 'play nice,' that theyre 'family.' Even though they have their own families and a history but Spain has wrecked that thru his colonial conquest.

And, slowly but surely, they warmed up to each other. Mexico would sneak into one of the galleon ships heading to Manila, and Philippines would wait for him at the harbor waving his arms around and calling for his name. Then Mexico would steal Philippines from his duties, running around the streets and eating mangoes and playing like little kids and doing it all over again even though Philippines would get punished by one of the friars or the governor-general would scold Mexico for being too lenient.

Then the unrests started. Well, they never really 'started,' they were always there. They feel the cries of their people in their bodies, the yearn for freedom from Spain and the system. I like to think that before 1811, Mexico visited Philippines one last time, to say goodbye, but couldnt. Because he didnt want to leave Philippines; if he could steal him, he would, hed do it, theres nothing to stop him, nothing to fear. But that would be unfair for Philippines' own people, and as if Philippines would come w him. So he leaves without telling goodbye, tho maybe Philippines already knew, then they never saw each other again

Till the 1950s when Mexico visits the Philippines again, not as Acapulco but as Mexico, and the Philippines waits for him, like old times.

[jaydove-writes]

Having finished my Disabled Mario FP Only challenge run, (check the replies for what that means) I now have more time to work on my passion projects.

Which one should I start working on?

[southeastasianarchaeology]

ACM Unveils Trade Secrets of the Manila Galleon

"Manila Galleon" exhibit at ACM showcases 140+ artifacts linking Asia with the Americas, revealing the rich tapestry of global trade and culture.

via Tatler Asia, 07 February 2024: The Asian Civilisations Museum, in collaboration with the Ayala Museum, presents “Manila Galleon: From Asia to the Americas,” showcasing over 140 objects that trace the historical Pacific trade routes connecting Asia with the Americas and Europe. This exhibition highlights the cultural exchanges and global influences from the 16th to 20th centuries, featuring…

[godricgryffinsnore]

The Quiet Between Heartbeats ♡ : A Cedric Diggory Fan Fiction.

pairing : Cedric Diggory x female!reader

summary : A slow-burn friends-to-lovers romance full of quiet tension, aching glances, and soft, stolen touches. As two hearts grow closer through banter, lingering pinky brushes, and whispered moments in forgotten corners of the castle, love blooms where neither expected it—sweet, fiery, and utterly unforgettable. This is a story of yearning, laughter, kisses like fireworks, and the kind of love that wraps around you like a favorite sweater.

warnings : Heavy romantic tension, Suggestive content (intense kissing, neck kisses, hickeys), Flirty teasing and banter, Mentions of jealousy and possessiveness, Slightly mature themes (no explicit smut), Emotional intimacy and vulnerability. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 3.2k

main master list <3

banners : @uzmacchiato and @roseschoices

It began with the smallest things.

A lingering glance across the Great Hall. A pinky brushing hers on the edge of a table. The way her laugh caught in his chest like a spell he never wanted lifted.

Cedric Diggory had fallen—quietly, hopelessly, and far too early.

They were friends. Good friends. The kind that traded books and shared inside jokes in crowded corridors. The kind who sat side by side in the library, legs brushing underneath the table, pretending it wasn’t anything. He told himself it was enough.

But it wasn’t.

She was a blur of parchment ink and candlelight, with sharp wit and a laugh that unraveled him like a charm undone. She never noticed the way his hands trembled when he passed her notes, or how he lingered every time she touched his arm in passing. She didn’t see the way his eyes followed her like poetry across a page. And he? He noticed everything.

Especially how she didn’t notice him the way he wanted her to.

── .✦

“Honestly,” Oliver said, nudging Cedric as they walked toward the Quidditch pitch, “I don’t think you’ve ever looked at a broom the way you look at her.”

Cedric rolled his eyes, cheeks coloring faintly. “Shut it, Wood.”

“She touched your shoulder this morning and you turned pinker than a Fanged Geranium,” his friend added with a smirk. “Just ask her out already.”

He didn’t respond. How could he explain the agony of wanting something so deeply, yet fearing the ruin of what already existed?

So he did what he always did. He watched her from a distance, from the corner of crowded hallways, through the haze of early morning light in the library, in the stolen moments when no one else noticed the way her fingers tapped to an invisible rhythm while she read.

── .✦

For her part, the reader—blissfully, maddeningly oblivious—had no clue.

Sure, Cedric was handsome. Okay, very handsome. But he was also sweet, soft-spoken, golden to the bone. The kind of boy who made you feel like sunlight lived in your veins. He was her friend. A good one. Always there with a smile, always listening, always warm.

She didn’t realize that the softness in his voice when he said her name was anything more than friendly. Or that the reason he always seemed to sit just close enough to graze her fingers was because he needed to feel her.

She thought she imagined the stares. The way his gaze lingered too long. The hitch in his breath when their hands brushed as they passed a quill. She didn’t realize his hands trembled not from nerves, but from need.

── .✦

“Cedric’s going to lose his mind,” murmured Angelina one evening as they all sat in the common room. “Look at him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her for ten minutes.”

“I swear, they’re doing this on purpose,” Fred added. “Or they’re that daft.”

George leaned over, muttering loudly, “You owe me five galleons if he doesn’t confess before the Yule Ball.”

Cedric caught the end of that and sent them all a warning glare.

But it was true—he was unraveling.

He wanted to hold her hand. Not by accident. Not brushing pinkies under a table. He wanted to take her hand and never let go.

He wanted to kiss her. Not in a dream. Not in the quiet corners of his imagination where she whispered his name like a secret. But for real. For once.

── .✦

It all came undone one night under the stars.

She found him leaning against the railing of the Astronomy Tower, his tie undone, hair windswept. His back was to her, but when he turned—Merlin help her—she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hey.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and expectant. She leaned on the railing beside him, looking up at the stars.

“They’re beautiful,” she said.

“So are you,” he said without thinking.

She blinked. “What?”

His eyes met hers. “I said… you are.”

Her breath caught. “Cedric…”

“I know you don’t see it,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I know you think we’re just friends. But I’ve been falling for you since the moment we met. And it’s killing me not to tell you.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “You… you what?”

“I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about books. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. I love that you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. That you challenge me. That you don’t back down.”

He paused, his voice almost breaking. “And I love you. Gods, I love you.”

The world stilled.

She stood frozen, heart hammering, every heartbeat screaming you fool, you didn’t see it. You didn’t see him loving you all this time.

“Cedric,” she breathed. “I… I didn’t know.”

“I know,” he said with a small laugh, brushing his fingers against hers, hesitant, like he was afraid she’d pull away. “I was just hoping someday you would.”

She looked down, saw their pinkies barely touching. And this time—this time—she hooked hers around his.

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime.

“I think I’ve been falling too,” she whispered. “I was just too blind to realize what this was.”

And then—then he kissed her.

It was like fireworks behind her eyelids, soft and slow and filled with everything unsaid. His hands cradled her face like she was made of stardust, and when he pulled away, they were both breathless.

“Say it again,” she whispered, her forehead resting against his.

“I love you.”

And under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, fingers intertwined like a promise sealed, she finally said it back.

And meant it.

── .✦

Being with Cedric was like falling asleep in your favorite chapter and waking up inside a fairytale.

Warm hands. Soft glances. The kind of love that bloomed quietly, but settled in deep. The kind that was tucked into mundane things—the way he always remembered how you took your tea, the way his hand found yours beneath the table, pinkies brushing before fingers fully entwined.

You were his. He was yours. And everyone knew it.

That didn’t mean Cedric was above getting a little… territorial.

── .✦

It started with a harmless interaction—at least, to you.

You were walking across the courtyard after Herbology when Michael Corner approached you, all bright smiles and way-too-familiar charm. He was going on about something—tutoring, or maybe a Hogsmeade trip, you hadn’t really been listening—when you felt it.

The unmistakable presence of Cedric Diggory, warm and thundercloud-silent beside you.

“Corner,” Cedric said, his voice pleasant. Too pleasant.

Michael stiffened. “Oh, hey Cedric. Didn’t see you there.”

“I bet,” Cedric said smoothly, slipping an arm around your waist like it was second nature. (It was.)

You blinked up at him, amused. “Hi, love.”

His gaze didn’t leave Michael’s. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The poor boy stammered something about seeing you later and practically sprinted away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Cedric, raising a brow. “Was that necessary?”

“He was flirting with you,” Cedric said, clearly unconcerned about how obvious his jealousy was.

You laughed, heart fluttering at the hint of pink in his ears. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, kissing your forehead. “But you’re mine.”

── .✦

Later that night, in the comfort of the Hufflepuff common room, you found yourselves curled up on one of the couches, a blanket draped over your legs, the fire crackling softly beside you. Cedric had an arm around your shoulders, and you were tracing shapes on his chest absentmindedly.

“Still mad at Michael Corner?” you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I’m not mad,” Cedric mumbled, though he was still pouting faintly. “Just… observant.”

You chuckled. “Well, your powers of observation are unparalleled.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, eyes crinkling with laughter.

You smiled and shifted, brushing your lips along the curve of his neck—soft and deliberate.

The effect was immediate.

Cedric froze, his entire body going tense, and a soft breath hitched in his throat.

You paused, eyes curious. “Cedric?”

“N-Neck,” he stammered, cheeks flushing pink. “Sensitive.”

You blinked. Then slowly, very slowly, smiled.

“Well now that’s useful information.”

“I’m regretting everything,” he muttered, but his hand tightened on your thigh and he was definitely not pushing you away.

You kissed his neck again, just below his ear this time, and he practically melted into the cushions.

“Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, voice low and breathless.

You hummed, pressing one last kiss to his throat before settling against him. “At least you’ll die loved.”

He chuckled, lips brushing your temple. “That I will.”

── .✦

Sometimes, your days were filled with classes and jokes and teasing hands. Other days, they were quiet. Stolen kisses behind bookshelves, love notes tucked into your textbooks in Cedric’s neat handwriting. “For luck,” he’d say with a wink, handing you a daisy before every test.

And every now and then, he’d pull you aside, press you against the nearest wall, and kiss you like the world was ending. Desperate. Tender. Like you were everything he’d ever wanted.

Because you were.

And he? He was everything you hadn’t even known to wish for.

── .✦

One evening, after one of those wall-kiss moments that left you breathless and flushed, you looked up at him with soft eyes and whispered, “Still jealous?”

“Every bloody day,” he whispered against your lips. “Because I know exactly how lucky I am.”

You kissed him again—neck included.

And somewhere between the tangled fingers, the laughter, and the stolen kisses, you both realized something—

This was it.

The love worth waiting for.

── .✦

It started as a game.

A game where your fingers ghosted up Cedric’s arm in the library, where your lips brushed his jaw just to see the way his breath hitched. A game where you leaned in a little too close when he was trying to focus, your voice soft and honey-sweet against the shell of his ear:

“Still mad about Michael Corner?”

The poor boy choked on air.

He had been trying to finish his Potions essay, quill poised with all the noble concentration of a scholar. But then—then—you had curled into his side and began your mission: Operation Drive Cedric Diggory Absolutely Mad.

It was harmless. Almost.

Until your lips found that spot on his neck again.

That tiny space just below his ear, where his breath would catch and his shoulders would tense and that pink flush would rise like ink in water.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” he mumbled, eyes heavy-lidded, voice lower than usual. Half accusation. Half moan.

You only smiled. “Doing what, love?”

“That.”

You blinked up at him innocently. “Kissing my boyfriend?”

He gave you a look, but it quickly shattered the moment you trailed kisses down the side of his throat, lingering longer this time. You sucked softly, gently—just long enough to leave the ghost of a bruise, and he whimpered. His head tilted back, jaw tight, hands clenched in the fabric of your robes like you were the only tether to the earth.

You pulled away slowly, admiring your handiwork. A small, perfect mark blooming like firelight on his pale skin.

“Darling…” he warned, voice wrecked, “you know I’ve got class after this—”

“Oh, I know,” you purred, lips brushing his collarbone. “You’ll just have to wear your scarf, won’t you?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You are so evil.”

You tilted your head, all mock innocence. “And you love it.”

He sighed dramatically, pulling you into his lap with both arms wrapped firmly around your waist. “Unfortunately.”

You grinned and nosed at his neck again.

“You do realize,” he murmured, voice laced with fondness and a hint of vengeance, “that this means war.”

You gave him one final, featherlight kiss just below his jaw. “Bring it on, Diggory.”

── .✦

Later that day in Charms class, everyone noticed the scarf.

Cedric, flushed pink from ear to ear, wore it indoors with grim determination. His friends didn’t even try to hold back their laughter.

“Bit nippy in here, isn’t it, Diggory?” Lee Jordan teased.

“Yeah,” added George, winking, “You catch a chill from all that… snogging?”

Cedric shot a helpless look at you across the room—and found you smirking like the devil in an angel’s uniform.

He was doomed. Doomed and in love.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

── .✦

It was subtle at first.

Too subtle.

You should’ve known Cedric Diggory wouldn’t let your little neck hickey escapade go unanswered. He was the golden boy of Hufflepuff—sweet on the outside, but competitive and cunning when he wanted to be. And right now?

He wanted you flustered.

Badly.

It began one lazy afternoon in the courtyard. You were leaning against an ancient pillar, sun warming your back as you flipped through your Transfiguration notes. Cedric walked over with that slow, confident stride—hands tucked in his pockets, hair tousled by the wind, and the faintest glimmer of mischief in those warm amber eyes.

“Hi, love,” he greeted, voice soft and casual.

You smiled without looking up. “You’ve forgiven me for the scarf incident, I hope?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, sitting beside you. “Water under the bridge.”

You arched a brow. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed innocently. “I’ve just decided I like playing the long game.”

You blinked, opening your mouth to ask what he meant—only to feel his fingers skim just above your knee, slow and deliberate, ghosting up the bare skin beneath your uniform skirt.

You inhaled sharply.

“Cedric.”

“Yes, darling?”

“You’re playing with fire.”

He leaned in, voice low against your ear. “Then burn me.”

And suddenly, it was you who couldn’t focus. He didn’t stop there, of course. Over the next week, Cedric launched a full-blown charm offensive, designed specifically to destroy your composure.

Trailing fingers down your spine when no one was watching. Whispering teasing little things into your ear during class. Tugging you onto his lap and pretending to be all innocent when your breath caught at the way he nuzzled your neck—your spot.

“I’m just cold,” he’d say with a wicked smile. “You wouldn’t let your boyfriend freeze, would you?”

He even whispered poetry into your ear once in the library. Poetry.

With his lips brushing your jaw.

You were doomed.

── .✦

But one evening, in the quiet of the Hufflepuff common room, you decided to strike back.

You were curled up beside him on the couch again, his head resting lazily against yours. Everyone else was asleep, and moonlight streamed through the tall windows in soft, silver streaks.

Your hand slid up his chest, featherlight, and then—slowly—you pressed a single, deliberate kiss to his neck.

Cedric froze.

You smiled. “Still sensitive?”

He gave a shaky little breath. “Maybe.”

You pressed another, slower kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then, grazed your teeth against the skin. Gently. Teasing.

He let out the softest, most delicious sound—half gasp, half groan—and before you could smirk, he was on you.

Not in a rough way. No. Cedric Diggory kissed like he meant it.

Like he’d waited a thousand lifetimes just to kiss you again.

He pulled you into his lap, hands splayed against your back, and kissed you until the world blurred around the edges. Until time forgot how to tick.

And in that in-between—the hush of hearts speaking louder than words—he pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Do you have any idea how mad I am for you?”

You touched his cheek, breathless and smiling, eyes shining. “Maybe. But I’d love to hear it again.”

He grinned, then leaned down to your ear.

“I am so incredibly, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.”

And then he kissed your neck, right where he knew it would make you shiver.

Your breath hitched.

“Told you,” he murmured smugly, lips brushing your skin, “long game.”

── .✦

It was only fair you got the final revenge.

After all, Cedric Diggory had been a menace lately. A beautiful, golden, completely infuriating menace.

From the way he murmured poetry into your ear like a secret spell, to the way he brushed his thumb over your lips whenever you looked distracted. He made you feel like you were the center of the entire universe, like gravity bent to your smile.

So, of course, he deserved to be utterly ruined.

── .✦

You waited until a particularly quiet evening, when most of the castle was either at dinner or tucked into study sessions. You grabbed Cedric’s hand and whispered, “Come with me,” and because he was hopelessly in love with you, he didn’t even hesitate.

You led him to an empty classroom, tucked behind the charms corridor—dim, forgotten, echoing with a gentle hum of candlelight.

He blinked. “What are we doing here?”

You only smiled and tugged him in by the collar.

Then kissed him. Hard.

Your hands slid into his hair, fingers tugging softly, guiding him into the kind of kiss that stole breath and burned slow. Cedric gasped against your lips, stumbling back until he hit the old professor’s desk, hands bracing himself behind him as you kissed him like you owned him.

And maybe you did.

“Love,” he breathed, “what—”

You leaned in, brushing your lips along the line of his jaw. “You wanted a game. I’m playing to win.”

He groaned, head tilting instinctively when you began kissing his neck. Soft. Slow. Deliberate. You sucked gently at the skin just below his ear, just where he always lost it—and sure enough, his knees nearly buckled.

“Merlin,” he gasped, “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” you whispered against his throat. “Because you started this.”

Your kisses grew slower, messier. He slid his hands under your shirt, fingers ghosting over your spine like he needed to touch as much of you as possible. But when you nipped at that sensitive spot behind his ear, he whimpered.

Actual. Whimper.

And you couldn’t help but laugh softly against his neck as he buried his face into your shoulder and said:

“I’m never going to survive you, am I?”

You smiled, breathless. “Not a chance.”

── .✦

The next morning, Cedric didn’t meet your eyes at breakfast.

Face red. Ears pink. Voice cracked when he tried to say “pumpkin juice.”

And when his friend—Oliver, bless him—raised a brow at the bright red hickey blooming on Cedric’s neck?

Cedric choked on his toast and nearly fell off the bench.

You winked at him across the table.

He buried his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he mumbled.

You kicked him under the table. “No you don’t.”

And he peeked at you through his fingers, lips twitching.

“…No,” he said softly. “I don’t.”

── .✦

Later that day, you found Cedric waiting outside your class, arms crossed, smile warm and dangerously soft.

“You,” he said as you approached, “are evil.”

You kissed his cheek. “Still love me?”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours.

“With every bone in my body. With every beat in my chest. With every piece of me you’ve ever touched.”

“I’m yours.”

You paused, blinking up at him with wide eyes.

Then whispered, “Forever?”

His hands found yours, pinkies linking first—always—and then fingers fully entwining.

“Forever.”

── .✦

And if he pressed you against a stone wall somewhere quiet later, kissing you like the sun rose only for you, well—

That was between you, Cedric, and the blooming heat in your chest that said this was real.

This was everything.

This was love.

[ltwilliammowett]

Nobody expects the Spanish Inqui.... Armada in door no. 6. Here we have a rare example that once made it to London. The Galeon Andalucia

More about her here:

The ‘Galeon Andalucia’ is a faithful replica of a galleon. This mostly three-masted type of ship was developed by the Spanish in the 16th century and was during the 17th century adopted and further developed by almost all European naval nations. Galleons were the epitome of a fast, highly manoeuvrable warship with great seaworthiness. This made them ideal for expeditions to explore new trade routes between Europe and South-East Asia or America. Thanks to its absolutely superior military characteristics, the galleon quickly became the dominant warship of its time.

As there were no usable construction drawings for the replica of such a ship, the ‘Galeon Andalucia’ construction project also included the collection of all the information, dimensions and other important details required for the construction. Safety and innovation also played a major role in the construction of the ship. The entire hull and decks were made of fibreglass layers and then clad in wood. The construction phase lasted 17 months and employed more than 150 workers.

[wisteria-lodge]

Can you explain what doylist vs watsonian means? And are there any other similar terms that you like to use that you could define too?

Watsonian and Doylist are old-school terms from the Sherlock Holmes fandom.

Watsonian = I am answering the question like Dr. Watson wrote the Sherlock Holmes books. This is the "in-universe" answer.

Doylist = I am answering the question like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote the Sherlock Holmes books. This is the "meta" or "real world" answer.

So - I could throw out a question like "Why is the purchasing power of a galleon so inconsistant?" and if I were giving a Watsonian answer, I would be talking about... Harry being scammed, or the value decreasing because international wizard communities don't want to trade with with England because they disapprove of the Voldemort shadow government, or idk - goblin currency regulation.

The Doylist answer would be - "JKR is consistently bad at math and not very careful with her numbers. See, all the dates on the Black Family tree also don't make sense."

I love doing both: I love the media analysis and pattern recognition of a Doylist analysis, I love the *game* of Watsonian analysis, trying to use established rules of the world to fill in missing information, find a plausible way around a plothole, or smooth over inconsistent character writing or worldbuilding.

But, I see a lot of fandom discourse happen because one person is arguing from a Doylist perspective, and one person is arguing from a Watsonian perspective. You might get a question like "why do the warrior woman all wear bikinis into battle?" where the Doylist answer is "this franchise has certain ideas about gender that need to be unpacked" or "the creator thinks it's hot" and the Watsonian answer is "they're a race of fairies who can't wear clothes because they need to breathe through their skin." And then you're stuck at an impasse.

[apolloarting]

I'm probably gonna re-draw this design since it's way too simple but here is Henry's design (for now). I also got way too excited so i continued before the poll finished sorry, but it was pretty much concise on coat.

With and without a hat cuz I couldn't decide

Alright time for head canons :D

Henry gives huge will turner vibes, which is absolutely perfect for this hypothetical story. Both were blacksmith's apprentices who abandoned that pathway. Though Will's is not as noble as knighthood.

Will turner 😩

In this, I picture, half the time early in the story, he has a tiny little schooner until he eventually gets his own ass brig or Galleon. Maybe the brig is when he's traveling with zizka.

Henry and Hans both start off as privateers but once they align themselves with ziska they are immediately branded as pirates.

I also wonder if Henry should be some sort of soldier duty with accompanying hans (who really wants to have some sort of high ranking position that hanush has like a Governor) due to the pirate threat

The demons in my head want to add some sort of fantastical element like curses, mermaid and stuff but i also want to keep the world historically accurate just like the game 😩

If thats the case, the villains are probably the East india trading company cuz in real history they were absolutely horrific and evil.

Now i gotta draw hans cuz half my HC's are around my best boy.

[worldhistoryfacts]

As trade between the Philippines and Mexico grew, artisans in Mexico began to copy Asian porcelain, making cheaper copies of the iconic blue-and-white Chinese patterns. Here’s a chocolate jar made in Pueblo around 1700:

And a more detailed jar:

See more here:

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Substack}

[sleepymoonlady]

Roevember Day 4: Ship

Vermilion Rose had traveled the world far and wide, from Hingashi to Tural. To say she was comfortable on a ship would be quite the understatement. As would saying that she had gotten to know the crews of countless ships--a traveling adventurer takes what passage they can get, after all, from a merchant barge to a pirate's galleon.

Her preference in seafaring garb? Why yes, it is usually the same that you see here. Why do you ask?

So Rose understood much of seafaring, of life aboard a ship, even if she herself was not truly a sailor by trade. What she did not understand, was why every ship's crew, from the Bloody Executioners to the East Aldenard Trading Company, seemed to think she was a pirate.

[imagineweasley]

everyone at hogwarts is under the impression that sirius is a player, that he dates anyone and everyone just for the fun of it. nothing ever serious, something just for entertainment. the truth is, sirius is madly in love with his best friend -- you. the flirting is to hide his pining, fearing that if you find out, he will lose you forever. if only he knew that you were also madly in love with him, that every time you saw him with another girl your heart cracked a little, he would immediately drop this act.

one day, lily "accidentally" lets your secret slip to him, sick of years of hiding your feelings, tired of watching you break as you watch him flirt with his person of the week. sirius is stunned; he thinks his heart might leap out of his throat, but as soon as the words come out of her mouth, he races across the castle to you in the library, pulls you into the stacks, and finally kisses you. at seeing you are finally together, the professors begrudgingly and delightedly trade galleons with each other; their favorite game for the past few years had been betting on when the two of you would finally get together. mcgonagall, dumbledore, and sprout are the winners.

from that moment in the library, he will never have eyes for anyone else ever again. he doesn't care to hide his love for you and his reputation shifts from "heartbreaker" to "y/n's boyfriend" and eventually, "y/n's husband." from the moment in the library, you are helplessly and auspiciously intertwined with each other. from that moment on, fate links you together until the end.

[whencyclopedia]

Manila Galleon

The Manila Galleons were Spanish treasure ships which transported precious goods like silk, spices, and porcelain from Manila in the Philippines to Acapulco, Mexico, between 1565 and 1815. The Atlantic treasure fleets then shipped some of these goods – along with silver, gold, and other precious materials extracted from the Americas – on to Spain. The Manila galleons, meanwhile, returned to the Philippines each year loaded with silver to buy more goods for the next trip. Manila galleons going in either direction were a floating Aladdin's cave of treasures and so they tempted many a pirate and privateer but, such was their armament, only four were ever captured at sea.

The Spanish Empire

In the 16th century, two European powers were colonising the globe. The 1529 treaty of Zaragoça (Saragosa) between Portugal and Spain extended the astonishing division of the world these two nations had previously established in the Treaty of Tordesillas of 1494. The Zaragoça treaty confirmed Portugal's claim over the Spice Islands while Spain was given the Philippines. From 1565, galleon ships were used to transport trade goods, gold, and silver accumulated at Manila from across Asia to the Americas and then to Spain.

Unlike other ships, such as those of the Portuguese Empire which used the Cape of Good Hope trade route around the tip of southern Africa, the Spanish preferred to send their ships eastwards to the Americas. The one, or more rarely two, annual Manila galleons arrived at Acapulco on the Pacific coast of what is today Mexico and which was then part of the Spanish Empire in the Americas, the Spanish Main. Setting off from Manila in the Philippines, these ships became known as the Manila galleons to the British, although the Spanish themselves called them the naos de China or 'Chinese ships'. Almost all Spanish galleons operating in the Pacific were built in the Philippines, a requirement enforced by law from 1679, and they were funded and owned by the Spanish Crown.

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[southeastasianarchaeology]

[Talk] 'Exploring Animal Translocations: Zooarchaeology and the Galleon Trade' by Quincy Lingao

Talk at the UP School of Archaeology on Wednesday, 26 July 2023 at noon, but can also be joined online. Zoom link in the image.

Talk at the UP School of Archaeology on Wednesday, 26 July 2023 at noon, but can also be joined online. Zoom link in the image. zooarchaeology and the galleon trade webinar Source: Binalot Talks: ‘Exploring Animal Translocations: Zooarchaeology and the Galleon Trade’ by Quincy Lingao | School of Archaeology

[miraclemuncher]

phantasm

001. i know you ain’t a drug

remus lupin જ⁀➴ fem!vampire!oc

remus lupin is under the assumption snape is a drug dealer and his biggest customer is jubilation delight.

tags/warning. marauders era

notes. i’m tired of wattpad bots so im reposting on here

series masterlist → chapter two. (do i wanna know?)

sixth year, early autumn

Remus witnessed the trade of contraband on school property. Anyone behind the Fat Lady's portrait would know he's no saint but this was the chance of a life time: Severus Snape has been continually receiving a few galleons from some girl in exchange for seven vials of a mystery liquid.

This is the fourth time witnessing the exchange, every time on Prefect duty for the library. They would meet in the mythical creatures section. At first, Remus found it amusing, Snape harboring some sort of secret lover, but it was far more intriguing than that.

Looking between the gaps of the bookshelves, he saw Snape retract his hand with the seven vials just as the girl's outstretched hand reached closer.

Remus could hear, "You're light," from Snape in the faintest whisper. He was tossing the galleons and sickles in his hands, loudly clinking — taunting her, Remus realized. Snape is so weird! That is no way to treat his supposed lady.

"Come on, Snape. I got Junius paying you triple, didn't I?" The girl replied.

Junius? The only Junius Remus knew was that adorable second year in Gryffindor, Junius Campbell. Juni's grandmother was so ill he had to take off several months off school last year. Was he turning to drugs to cope? Not only that but this girl got him hooked, and Snape had no problem dealing to a kid. They might as well be perfect sickos for each other.

"He has lighter doses. You have me making it stronger every month. Slughorn's starting to notice the missing inventory," Snape replied sharply.

Remus deduced that he has been stealing from Professor Slughorn and who knows how many other professors are victim to the Snape thievery. Sirius, James, and Peter are gonna love the latest installment on their weekly Snape Drug Dealer theory bedtime story.

"I'll make it up next week." The girl tried snatching the vials from Snape's hands but he was too fast. He closed his hands into a fist.

"I do not do loans, Delight," Snape said with a bite.

Delight... Who in the world was Delight? Was it some sort of cutie pie nickname and they actually are lovers? Remus would have to ask Sirius later, that boy knew everything about everyone.

"Well how much can I get—" Delight broke off her sentence with a yawn then continued, "with that?" She gestured at the galleons and sickles in his hand.

Snape returned three vials into his inner robes pocket, four remaining in his hand. They were quickly snatched by the girl and she wasted no time to scurry away.

Snape left shortly after her. Then Remus was relieved of his duties and made his way back to Gryffindor tower to report everything back to his friends: Snape stealing from Slughorn, Snape selling to young Junius because of the mystery girl, and finally placing a name on said mystery girl, Delight.

"Delight..." Sirius repeated, racking his brain for everyone he's ever encountered. Finally, his eyes lit up. "Jubilation Delight! We had Defense with Ravenclaws in third year for two weeks before they were switched out for Slytherins. We had, um, had that Boggart training."

Remus remembered her now. Her boggart was a werewolf. The form earned shrieks from many of their classmates and then Delight flattened it into a rug after two attempts.

He shot to his feet after recollecting the memory of the blurred face whose worst fear was himself. The same flooding feelings of shame from back then engulfed Remus like it was yesterday.

Without further explanation, Remus stealthily made his way into the second year's dorm. All of them were out like a light. Remus found Junius's bed and carefully opened his bedside drawer. Sure enough, six vials were in a drawstring silk pouch. Holding up one of the vials, he transfigured a loose sickle into an exact clone. Just without the actual potion effects. Remus pocketed the real version and left as quick as he sneaked in.

Back at his dorm, Remus and all his friends huddled on the floor with the vial in the center, speculating what could it possibly be.

James made a big deal out of taking a sip, inching it close to his parted lips before breaking into shrilling laughter last second and pulling it away. He pushed the cork cap back on and tossed it to Peter. Then as if a game of hot potato, they were all tossing it back and forth, screaming when it landed in their grasps. It only stopped once McGonnagall appeared in their fireplace in her fiery form, scolding them and withdrawing House points.

After they were all forced into bed by McGonnagall's threat, Remus was the only one left awake. He couldn't get Jubilation Delight out of his head.

She was remarkably unmemorable. You'd think Remus would at least remember the face of the girl whose worst fear was himself, but a part of him completely forgot it was her until Sirius' reminder. Who exactly is Jubilation Delight and where has she been this entire time?

[ltwilliammowett]

Today on the second advent and door no. 8 we have a lovely pair, La Grace and Shtandart

More about them here:

La Grace is a replica of a historic tall ship from the 18th century that will sail the seven seas like the original ship 300 years ago. The aim of the project is to give anyone interested the opportunity to sail a historic ship as part of the Navy's training programme and to share the proud traditions of sailing.

The brig was built between 2008 and 2010 by a group of volunteers from the Czech Republic and Slovakia in an Egyptian shipyard in Suez using traditional craft techniques. The brig was designed by its owners (Josef Dvorsky and Daniel Rosecky) according to technical drawings published in 1768 in the Architectura navalis mercatoria by the Swedish admiral Fredrik Henrik af Chapman.

According to available sources, the original La Grace was a ship owned by the first Czech naval captain Augustin Herrman, a famous navigator in Czech history. He sailed across the Atlantic in the service of the Dutch West India Company. After leaving the company, he commanded the small privateer ship La Grace. This relatively weak and vulnerable ship with six cannons brought large quantities of captured Spanish galleons to New Amsterdam every year.

The Shtandart is a replica of an 18th century frigate. The original was the first frigate built at the Olonez shipyard under Peter the Great and the first ship to be commissioned as a frigate for the Baltic Fleet. During the Great Northern War, Tsar Peter succeeded in conquering the area that would later become St Petersburg on the Neva. With the conquest of the fortress of Nöteborg in 1702, Lake Ladoga was removed from Swedish control and the Tsar hoped to gain access to Finland. The aim of these endeavours was to gain access to the Baltic Sea in order to establish a port city there for trade and naval purposes.

The frigate was built from 1702 at the Olonez shipyard on the Lodejner Feld on the River Swir near Lake Ladoga, where it was given its name in reference to the newly introduced Russian naval flag, a standard. Tsar Peter personally transferred the ship to the Baltic Sea in 1703. When seven Swedish ships of the line, five frigates and other small ships attacked the mouth of the Neva in June 1705, eight Russian frigates, presumably including the Schandart, lay behind a barrage of trees. In 1712 and 1713, she took part in troop landings in Swedish Finland near Vyborg. No further use is mentioned after this action. The ship was decommissioned as unserviceable in 1718. In 1723, the ship was scrapped in St. Petersburg.

According to another version, Tsar Peter had ordered the Schandart to be preserved as a reminder of the beginnings of the Russian fleet. Tsarina Catherine I ordered the condition of the Petrine ships to be examined in 1727. However, the Shtandart broke up while trying to take her out of the water.

As a result of the sanctions against Russia following the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russian ships are denied access to European ports. However, following a request from the Président des Amis des Grands Voiliers association to the French Secretary of State, the Shtandart was granted permission to call at French and Spanish ports and has remained there ever since. There are plans to put her under the French flag, as her captain strongly distances themselves from Russia.

[shiftingmoonshine]

this post was entirely inspired by this masterpiece

what's in my bag in my hogwarts dr ?

sooo... this bag is definitely equipped with an extension charm (and some other, maybe not entirely legal or ethical enhancements and defences). otherwise, there would be no way all of this could fit. but what can i say, i like a petite purse but always feel the need to carry anything and everything with me at all times. who knows when you might need it.

let's get to it !!

. . . glitter gel pens and vanilla scented parchment

. . . a big bottle of calming draught

. . . lipgloss called 'lumos' with gold shimmers from some obscure german brand

. . . another lipgloss pansy and i made in potions class instead of doing our assignment in third year. we got detention. totally worth it.

. . . spare gloves made from werespider silk

. . . two-way compact mirror that is connected to pansy's and daphne's matching ones (this is definitely for more important purposes than getting live updates on gossip)

. . . a peacock feather quill draco gifted me for my 13th birthday

. . . two letters from my grandmother i 'forgot' to open

. . . a tarot deck that is probably cursed but has never lied to me personally

. . . various crystals and two small candles

. . . gumdrops that turn you invisible for exactly 33 seconds

. . . at least one issue of witch weekly

a charmed matchbox without any matches, but

. two honey flavoured bonbons

. a rosemary twig

. three bandaids

. an emergency cigarette for my boyfriend

. needle and twine

. . . thin spell book full of jinxes and hexes (only legal ones, i swear)

. . . a note from blaise bitching about someone called jeremy (i have no clue who that is)

. . . a brooch my boyfriend gifted me. i don't wear it because it makes people around me trip over nothing.

. . . a small worn notebook with to-do lists i always forget to cross off

. . . a pressed daisy from the garden at our family estate in Germany

. . . my wand (ebony, unicorn hair core, 13 3/4", unyielding flexibility)

. . . a scale from the merfolk living in the great lake

. . . sheet music for choir practice

my monogrammed coinpurse with

. 3 galleons and 14 sickles

. ruby earrings i took out at some point and never properly put away

. a small vial of amortentia i use as perfume sometimes

. everchanging lists of who we (as a group) dislike at the moment (most contributions come from draco)

. old slug club invitation with a wine stain

. . . countless hair ribbons and hair pins i routinely trade with daphne and pansy

. . . a playing card i took while cheating during game night (theo is too good, okay?)

. . . anchient Lestrange family heirloom that can transform the wearer into a crow (i probably shouldn't be carrying this around)

. . . charms homework i accidentally cursed to dramatically narrate my writing, tied together tightly by a ribbon to make it shut up

. . . borgin and burkes receipt for four books on advanced curses (don't ask)

. . . a hairbrush that brushes my hair on its own

. . . an old key that opens ... something. i forget what it is, but i am sure i will remember when it is important

. . . photo of the latest family gathering, my grandmother is menacingly pointing her parasol at my father while my aunt and i smile happily into the camera

. . . potion from last week's brewing club session

. . . a vial of blood that is probably mine (you don't want to know)

. . . a list to keep track of the bets concerning blaise's love life (pansy is currently in the lead)

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 12

“You can go deeper than that.” - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

902 words

Warnings: semi public / sexual favors as payment

Garreth knew she’d be in the library studying at this hour. After all, she promised after this time that she’d start brewing her own potions which meant she really had to step up her study time.

He found her in a tucked away corner of the library just as he’d imagined. Her nose in a book although it wasn’t a potions book. He frowned, clearing his throat loud enough to grab her attention.

She looked up from the romance novel, spotting Garreth and smiling impishly. “Oh, h-hi Garreth! I-I promise I’ve been reading up for potions. Look…see?”

She pulled out her copy of the potions guide book from Sharps class and holds it up as if she deserves a medal for carrying it around on her person.

He only tsks her and shakes his head, disapproval in every fiber of his disposition. He came to stand right beside her, pulling out the potion she was supposed to brew for Sharps class. The very same she’s paid Garreth to brew for her.

Garreth rolls the vial between his fingers and dangles it out teasingly, pulling it back before she can make a grab for it. “You know, I think my prices just went up for brewing, since I’ve gotten so busy lately while brewing for both of us.”

Her smile drops, not expecting him to raise the price but she grabs for her pouch of galleons. He holds his hand out stopping her. “No, I don't want your money. That’s too easy for you. I want something that you actually put effort towards since that’s what I have to go through.”

She thinks for a moment, maybe he wants ingredients? She could get him some stuff he probably doesn’t have easy access to. “Do you want specialty ingredients or something? I could get you whatever you need.”

He shakes his head. “You doubt a prodigy of potions will acquire specialty ingredients on his own? No, I have plenty at my disposal. I’m thinking of something else.”

She nods, looking at how serious but relaxed his facial expression is. He knows exactly what he wants and she can tell he isn’t leaving without having his way. “What can I do to pay you back Garreth?”

He raises his brows with a smirk, pointing down at the floor in front of him and suddenly she gets it. He wants a sexual favor in trade. Her mind reels for a moment, she can’t say she hasn’t imagined doing this for him before so it surprises her that it’s what he wants too.

She doesn’t hesitate as she slides out of her chair and onto her knees in front of him. His body and robes block the view of anyone passing by the shelves they are crammed between, which makes her feel a bit better as she undoes his belt.

He simply slides the vial into the breast pocket of his robe, watching as she undoes his trousers. A wave of arousal from the sight makes his cock twitch to life and begin to swell.

Her on her knees in front of him, even in a public place like this, he’s imagined it so many times before but actually having it happen makes him bite the inside of his cheek.

She finally pulls his cock free, watching as it swells in her hand. She looks up at his hooded eyes before giving a tentative lick starting from the base and ending just below his tip. He groans softly and a small shine of precum beads at his tip.

She licks her lips before dipping her head to taste it. He sighs, watching her contemplate his taste before closing her lips around his tip and sucking in a way that has him seeing stars. He watches her bob her head, slowly working more of him inside while she sucks torturously.

He can tell he’s too much for her mouth but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Her lips feel so good wrapped around him, especially when she slides them up and down his length and doing whatever the hell that suction thing is.

In all his times imagining this, he’d never imagined it feeling this good. He can’t help but want more, desiring to hear her to choke on his cock for all the extra work he’s done for her. “Come on. You can go deeper than that.”

Her eyes flick up to meet his. He can tell she sees this as a challenge when she suddenly takes him all the way, opening up her throat till her lips meet the base of his ginger curls.

He bites back a groan, hand coming up to fist into her hair as he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Oh Merlin, yes. Just like that. Wanna see you gag on it.”

He holds her there till she does gag, doing her best to cough silently when it becomes too much. He pulls her back, unable to hold back a groan as her stringy spit clings to his cock and her watery eyes flick up to his.

He can’t help but love the way she looks, eyes glassy from choking on him, cheeks red from embarrassment, and chest heaving as she struggles to breathe. “I should have made you suck my cock so much sooner. You look like you were made for it.”