em's infamous

Trump’s Tax Plan Would Be 23,500 Times Better for the Ultra-Rich than the Poor
Yes, really. It would also raise the deficit by $3.4 trillion.
By Bess Levin

It is instructive to recall the many instances in which the Republican Party, in a more dignified universe, might have been expected to disown Donald Trump. On the campaign trail, there was the infamous “grab ‘em by the p—y” fiasco. Since taking office, there have been a gobsmacking number of tweets that might have prompted concern for his mental state, like the one in which a sitting president, doing his best impression of a tween-age mean girl, attacked Mika Brzezinski and claimed she’d had a facelift because she was mean to him on TV; or when he baselessly accused the F.B.I. director he had fired of criminal activity, based on a botched Fox News segment; or when he went to the mat to defend his eldest son’s meeting with a Kremlin-linked lawyer after being promised damaging information about Hillary Clinton straight from the Russian government.

Of course, we all know why, against all odds, the G.O.P. has stood by 45: tax cuts. Yes, the prospect of shrinking the government while simultaneously transferring trillions to the rich takes precedence over potentially punishing the president for any unsavory campaign dealings with a foreign government. Especially when, as a new analysis of Trump’s proposed tax plan shows, said redistribution would be bigger and bolder than anything in Paul Ryan’s wildest dreams.

According to the Tax Policy Center, the cuts that Team Trump included in their bullet-point outline last April could result in a loss of revenue between $3.4 trillion and $7.8 trillion over 10 years. To whom will those benefits go? We’ll give you two guesses, but you’ll only need one.

Go To Bed, Boys.

Request: Could you maybe do 45 with Peter Pan? I think it would be cute. Like maybe a bit playful on Pan’s part? I love your writing btw

Prompt: Who died and made you queen? Being the actual leader, I’m saying you should step down.

Dinner was served and finished rather quickly. Before you knew it, the regular bonfire and dance started. At first, you joined in, dancing with the boys and listening to Pan’s pan pipes. As the night went on, weariness overcame you and, knowing that the boys would be unable to wake up tomorrow, you tried to convince them, “Boys, it’s time for bed.”

There was a chorus of groans. They all looked at you with bored expressions. “Y/N, we’re not tired,” one complained.

“Well, you heard ‘em,” the infamous King of Neverland joined the discussion, “Let the night continue!” The boys cheered and continued their dancing to the music from the forest. Pan smiled victoriously at you.

You protested, “All of you wont be able to wake up tomorrow if you don’t go to bed now.” Annoyed at the music, you defiantly grabbed Pan’s instrument and went a good distance from him. Silence fell over the bonfire as the boys stopped immediately and Pan looked at you incredulously.

He sauntered to where you were. “I suggest that you return my pipes,” Pan said with a small smirk. He was obviously annoyed, but he refused to let it show. Knowing you were right, you shook your head and stepped on top of the log so he couldn’t reach you easily.

“Y/N, you are very infuriating tonight,” he continued in the bored tone, “Give them back.”

“This night is over. Everyone, go to bed.” The boys started grumbling and some began making their way to their tents. You stared at Pan, almost provoking him.

“Who died and made you queen? Being the actual leader, I’m saying you should step down,” he said with a smug smirk, “The night is still young.”

“The night is old enough to retire,” you scoffed.

“Let’s put this to a vote. Everyone that agrees with Y/N, raise your hands!” Like you suspected, no one rose their hands. “You’ve been outvoted, Y/N.” You just glared at him and went to your tent, with an idea for revenge in the morning.

The boys were out late so, when it was morning, you took a pot and a spoon and began hitting it loudly around camp. A pack of boys came out immediately to see what woke them from their slumber. “Come on, boys! Time to start the day,” you said teasingly, “I mean, you said you weren’t tired last night, so I assume you’re not tired now?” They grumbled in response. “Well, I’m afraid you missed breakfast. Right to training!”

Pan came groggily out of his tree house. “What is the meaning of this?”

You answered in a sarcastic way, “You didn’t seem very tired last night, Pan. Besides, sleep is for the weak, right?” With a cheeky wink, you continued banging your pot until every Lost Boy was woken up forcefully.

Ninguém nunca irá entender a minha necessidade de amor. Viver em um um sonho que nunca se realiza é castigante. O tempo passa rápido demais para as pessoas ao meu redor, enquanto me sinto congelado e preso em um temporal infame. Já não vejo luz, só escuto a chuva fria escorrer sobre minha pele, com trovões compondo minha trilha sonora. Onde você está? Não deixe mais minhas lágrimas se misturarem a essas gostas sem propósito. Apareça! Abrace-me, e me aqueça… Para que possamos transformar essa tempestade, em nosso primeiro beijo de chuva.
—  Diogo CM

Sinto uma espécie de alegria prévia que antecede a dor. Como se me lembrasse de vagamente de um sonho carregado de cores e boas memórias que despertam o riso facilmente. Algo com uma sensação térmica elevada, que impulsiona a dor nas bochechas e me deixa animadíssimo. E eu sei bem que esses sentimentos ecoariam que nem infames elefantes em colapso com a água ao gerarem ondas continuas a alterar a superfície, que os mesmos seriam uma arte assim tão plausível que ficaria presa na mente das pessoas por gerações.