#no paywall

[petranaradulovic]

Aftermath put together a little memorial for us :')

A Fond Farewell To Polygon, From The People Who Worked There - Aftermath

"It was a good website. I doubt I'll ever find a place like it for the rest of my career"

[handweavers]

a short and sweet paper by margaret chan about congkak / mancala and its history in the malaysian and global context + my favourite part of it that talks about the invention of the grid as a way of understanding agriculture and seasons (space and time) and how mancala / congkak teaches these ideas to children

[bitteredlips]

Epstein file says Trump "knew and funded underage sex parties" at his golf course

An FBI tip memorialized in the Epstein files alleges Trump knew about underage sex parties at a Trump golf course.

[contemplatingoutlander]

How Jeff Bezos Upended The Washington Post

The billionaire newspaper owner, dissatisfied by years of losses, wants the newsroom to double productivity with half its budget.

The New York Times | 03-14-26 | Benjamin Mullin, Erik Wemple & Katie Robertson

This is a gift🎁link, so there is no paywall.

Mr. Bezos outlined his political and economic beliefs, which boiled down to a mix of libertarian and pro-business policies, according to two people with knowledge of the talks. He also wondered aloud whether the paper should stop endorsing candidates in presidential elections. Both changes would reverse decades of tradition at the newspaper, whose editorial board had regularly endorsed Democratic candidates. He offered a blunt response when David Shipley, the opinion editor, noted that changing the editorial ideology could turn off some subscribers. “I don’t care,” he said, according to a person with knowledge of the exchange.

Ironically, despite Bezos claiming not to care if he puts off "some subscribers" with The Post's new conservative "editorial ideology" that champions "personal liberties and free markets", Bezos has continued to claim he is making changes to the WaPo so that eventually The Post will be able "to pay for itself."

However, it isn't too surprising that The Post's new "Fox News Lite" editorial stance has caused the WaPo to lose hundreds of thousands of subscribers since just before the 2024 election.

Alienating subscribers is an odd business model for Bezos to pursue in hopes of making The Post solvent again.

The math just doesn't add up.

________________________ Photo illustration/GIF sources (before edits): Bezos/WaPo illustration; Confused Math Guy GIF

[kelorusfictions]

✨ The Rise of the Warlock (HP AU) Prologue part 1 ✨

(Harry Potter Fanfiction — AU : Rise of the Warlock Rewrite)

⚠️ Author’s Note:

All chapters are available for free reading on Fanfiction.net.

Upcoming chapters are also posted in early access on Patreon: Support & Read Early. ✨ There is no paywall: every chapter will always be released for free. Patreon is just about timing — supporters are rewarded with early access 💜

Patreon’s not a paywall, it’s survival — health’s bad, money’s worse. Support keeps me writing and housed.

Prologue - part 1 :

The Night the World Changed

Potter’s Cottage House, Godric’s Hollow, 31st October 1981

In the quiet village of Godric’s Hollow—famed as the birthplace of a certain illustrious founder—stood the Potter family’s country home.

An old wizarding family of ancient English stock, the Potters had long since traded their Muggle titles for magical ones. All that dated back to the establishment of the International Statute of Secrecy, which had divided the worlds of Muggles and wizards. Though the titles were similar, officially the Muggle lines had died out, their titles reallocated by the British Crown—save for those properties hidden under powerful enchantments.

For the moment, the Potters were at home in their country house. In truth, they had been living there for months—and they were all growing restless.

All because of a prophecy spoken by one Sybill Trelawney, descendant of Cassandra herself. The prophecy might have caused no real trouble—had it not been uttered in public. Albus Dumbledore regretted his decision deeply, though he had to admit that Sybill’s reputation was more that of a fraud than a true Seer. He had hardly expected such a revelation, which was why he had met her in the Hog’s Head, a rather shady little tavern in Hogsmeade—important to him, as it was owned by his brother.

A voice broke the silence.

“Are you quite sure that’s a good idea, Jamesie?”

James Potter—a dashing young man with untidy hair and a mischievous grin—turned round. His hazel eyes twinkled behind his round glasses.

“Oh, come off it, Gran. Of course it’s a good idea. The Ministry needs us, and if we show up, it’ll give the others a boost.”

Elisa Potter, née Fleamont, looked frail but kind. Her age showed in the deep lines that marked her face, yet there was a warm, grandmotherly glow about her.

“Hm… if you say so. But do be careful, dear. He could strike there.”

“I doubt he’d be daft enough to attack us in the middle of the Ministry. Besides, Professor Dumbledore and all the Order of the Phoenix will be there. Not to mention the Aurors. I’ve got great faith in Bartemius Crouch.”

He turned as a soft voice came from the stairs. Lily Potter was descending gracefully, a baby in her arms. Behind her, Peter Pettigrew followed, holding another child. The man looked terribly pale.

“Mmm. You can say that because you don’t work for him,” James quipped, nodding to his wife. “He’s an absolute tyrant!”

Lily rolled her eyes and moved to hand him the baby—but before she could, the old lady intercepted and took the infant herself.

“James! Don’t speak that way about your cousin!” Elisa scolded, before looking down at her great-grandson. “Oh, my little Harry—you’re the very image of Henry.”

James held his tongue, though he was tempted to protest. He knew how fond his grandmother was of Harry—named after her late husband, Henry Potter. Sometimes, he pitied her: she had outlived her husband, her son, and her daughter-in-law. She had nearly wasted away from grief until Harry’s birth rekindled her spirit. Her greatest joy, she said, had been the naming of her great-grandson—Harry James Potter, the eldest, bearing his father’s name.

“Not that he’s heavy or anything…” came a weary voice.

James chuckled at Peter’s exhausted look and motioned for the second baby. Unlike Harry, who had his father’s dark hair and his mother’s bright green eyes, the younger twin had inherited Lily’s fiery hair and James’s eyes. Arthur John Potter—named after Lily’s father and grandfather.

“All right, Peter?” Lily asked, concerned. “You look a bit peaky.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he said, waving her off. “Just overdid it at dinner, that’s all. My fault—I should’ve stopped at the second helping.”

James grinned. “You say that every time, Petey. One day your stomach’ll finish you off before the Death Eaters do.”

Peter tried to laugh, but the sound came out more like a sigh.

“I think I’ll head off,” he said finally. “Need a bit of rest.”

“As you like,” James replied. “Be careful on your way. If you run into an Auror, tell him you’ve just left our place—he’ll understand.”

Peter nodded, cast one last, uneasy glance at the twins, and Disapparated with a crack. Silence fell—heavy, uneasy.

It was Elisa who spoke first.

“That boy’s not right.”

James frowned. “Gran, honestly, not again. Peter’s clumsy, sure—but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“That’s exactly what people say before they’re betrayed,” she said quietly. “He’s got that shifty look—like someone burdened by secrets. And that Animagus form of his…”

James sighed. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, not this again. You’re not going to start on about animals and souls, are you? Sirius is a dog, Remus is a wolf, and they’re the most loyal blokes I know.”

“Dogs and wolves live in packs, Jamesie,” she replied evenly. “Rats feed on scraps. They survive by hiding.”

Lily stepped in before the argument could go further.

“Grandmother, I understand your feeling, but you know Peter’s not made for confinement. We’ve been cooped up here for months—he’s suffocating, like the rest of us.”

Elisa had insisted Lily call her “Grandmother”—she detested titles and formality. In truth, she was one of the oldest surviving members of English wizarding nobility: the Marquess Elise Potter, née Fleamont, only daughter of the late Earl Felominus Fleamont and Lysiana Gaunt.

“Isolation doesn’t make a traitor,” the old woman said coldly.

“No,” Lily replied, “but it brings out what’s already there. And Peter’s never been comfortable with all this—the Order, the war, the secrecy. You’ve seen him—he sweats just hearing about a duel.”

James nodded, glad to have his wife’s support.

“Exactly. That’s just Peter. A bit of a coward, maybe, a bit awkward—but loyal. He’s never betrayed me.”

Elisa studied him for a long moment.

“You say that as though you need to believe it.”

“I know it,” said James firmly. “Peter’s a friend. And if there’s one thing I learnt at Hogwarts, it’s that you don’t abandon your mates just because they’re scared.”

Lily sighed softly. “You’re right, love. But so is she. Some people you protect best from afar. Maybe we shouldn’t burden him with too much—just in case.”

James shook his head with a grin.

“You two are going to drive me round the bend. We’re already hiding under a Fidelius Charm, watched over by Dumbledore himself, and you want me to start distrusting Peter? No chance.”

Elisa turned her gaze to the fire.

“Trust is a fine thing, Jamesie. But old families learnt long ago—the fire burns those who sit too close.”

“And I’ve learnt that fear loses more battles than war itself,” he said quietly.

For a moment, only the crackle of the fire filled the room, its light dancing on the faces in the portraits.

“This ball at the Ministry unsettles me,” Elisa said at last. “Samhain is no night to parade about.”

“It’s symbolic, Gran,” James replied. “The Ministry wants to prove fear doesn’t rule us anymore. And with Dumbledore and a squad of Aurors there, what could possibly go wrong?”

Lily laid a hand on his arm.

“That’s not what she means. It’s a strange night, James. Even if nothing happens, I don’t like the idea of leaving the children.”

He smiled, reassuring. “They’ll be fine. Gran’s here—no one protects better than you, eh, Gran?”

Elisa didn’t answer at once. She tucked the blanket around the twins, her gaze distant.

“I’ll keep them safe,” she said finally. “That’s all you need to know.”

James kissed Lily, then the children, and reached for his cloak.

“We won’t be long,” he promised.

Elisa nodded silently. As they Disapparated, she stood there for a while, listening to the fire crackle and the soft breathing of the two sleeping infants. Absentmindedly, she reached into her robe and drew out a small object she had carried since girlhood.

Her father, Felominus Fleamont, had been a great wizard—fascinated by the obscure and the arcane. His particular field was chronomantic divination, a rare branch of magic devoted to reading a person’s fate through the flow of time. He had crafted her a small hourglass at her birth—one that had never stopped running.

Until tonight.

Elisa looked at the two babies, sleeping peacefully, and smiled faintly as the family cat curled up between them. Then, softly, she began to hum an old lullaby—one she had once sung for her own son, Fleamont.

“Sleep, my loves, and peace attend thee, All through the night.”

She settled into the rocking chair—one her grandson had brought especially for her weary bones—and the gentle creak filled the quiet room.

“Guardian angels God will send thee, All through the night.”

The chair rocked slowly back and forth as her voice, fragile but steady, carried on the old lullaby.

“Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,”

Her gaze drifted towards the fire, watching the embers crackle and flare.

“I my loving vigil keeping, All through the night.”

With a tender motion, she drew her wand and laid it across her knees.

“While the moon her watch is keeping, All through the night,”

She turned her eyes to the window, where the pale light of the full moon shone through.

“While the weary world is sleeping, All through the night.”

For a few moments, her breath grew shallow.

“O’er thy spirit gently stealing, Visions of delight revealing,”

Her eyes returned to the two sleeping infants, nestled close together.

“Breathes a pure and holy feeling, All through the night.”

She smiled faintly. Deep down, Elisa knew she would not live to see the dawn.

Part 2 ==> Click here !

[turnpikeghosts]

The Brazen Illegality of Trump’s Venezuela Operation | The New Yorker

The Brazen Illegality of Trump’s Venezuela Operation | The New Yorker

[papasmoke]

Attending Gaza Protests? The Feds Are Watching

From the FBI to the Forest Service, the government’s antisemitism police have their marching orders

[wiiildflowerrr]

Leap over Rolling Stone's paywall HERE.

Rolling Stone: 'Call 5 Seconds of Summer a Boy Band All You Want,  But Don’t Call This a Comeback'

By Larisha Paul, 24 September 2025