#marrera

[x-heesy]

ℜ𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞 𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔯𝔞 ThanX @mr-e-gallery 😘

Hell oh kitty

[ladespeinada]

Some thoughts on season three of The Bear, hastily written after finishing it:

Sydney Adamu. My love, my life, my heart, my soul. Her frustration just grew and grew and grew throughout the season, and underpinned with that score, made me increasingly anxious until it finally culminated in that intense panic attack she had outside of her apartment (at which point, it felt cathartic.) She’s so clearly mirroring Carmy and his relationship with his old boss, down to panicking in the same spot. I want better for her, in multiple ways, up to and including healthcare benefits.

Which leads me to: why the fuck was Nat working so close to her due date, and why did no one push back against her going to pick up boxes of napkins when she’s literally about to burst. I know it meant that we got Ice Chips out of it, and an episode focused on Nat and Donna, but it didn’t make sense to me.

“I left you alone.” “So, don’t let it happen again.” “It’s never gonna happen again.” That blue-eyed, curly-haired, Grecian-faced man lied in Sydney’s face, thinking that being physically present in the same space and working in proximity means the same thing as not leaving her alone. Sydney was more alone in this season than she was in the season two when Carmy fucked off and hung out with Claire and talked about emergency room horror stories.

The presence of the Faks was overwhelming this season, which ended up feeling like purely ornamental proof that The Bear is indeed a comedy because look at these bumbling fools! They’re funny! They’re little jesters! Any and every self-serious restaurant after a Michelin Star will surely have Two Little Guys at the helm, no matter if they have no serious training or serving skills!! It’s not as if said self-serious restaurants aren’t regularly draining money on overhead costs, of which labour is surely a part of! (Why did the Computer only suggest Marcus get cut from The Bear, and not the fucking Faks? Are they not getting paid? What the hell is the deal there? These are not serious people.)

“If you fuck with Marcus, I will murder you.” IKTR!!!!!!

Why did the screen time for all of the characters of colour get minimised, especially in comparison to last season. Why did neither Angel or Manny have any major lines that weren’t just curse words, or scenes where they were interacting with others beyond washing dishes. Why did I see the Faks more than I saw Sydney. I wanted to see more of Gary’s somm classes. I wanted to see more Ebra. I wanted to see more of Marcus’ desserts. I also wanted to see Marcus more actively hanging out with Luca. I wanted more scenes with Tina and Marcus cooking together, riffing off of each other and their experiences!

Finally, some interiority for my sweetiepie Tina Marrera! That said, we mostly got a look at her past, and a limited look at her present (my girl is experiencing some massive imposter syndrome, but we don’t get to dig into it much. Nor do we get many Tina x Ebra moments which is an affront to me personally because their relationship is my favourite). I read this Slate review of season three by Jack Hamilton after I finished watching season three, and while I don’t agree with everything, I found this articulation especially in line with my thinking re: Tina and her episode: “The incessant use of flashbacks feels like a crutch to avoid characters or the show itself actually moving forward, in any direction. Dribbling out details of a character’s past like breadcrumbs is a hackish and tiresome device: Filling in backstory shouldn’t be confused with character development.”

That said!!! The scenes with Michael, especially in Tina’s episode, are incredible. Just a few minutes and you can see the shine of Michael’s charisma, the underbelly of his pain, you miss him and want him back, you see why everyone loved him so deeply. He was so magnetic in this episode, and so terrifying in Forks, and the decline in between those episodes must’ve been so painful to watch. 

This might sound silly to say because it was still very much everywhere, especially in the beginning of EP2, but Chicago felt like it was missing. Or rather, the anxieties of Chicago were missing. In seasons one and two, there’s the looming threat of Chicago gentrification (in one, The Beef is hurt by it; in two, The Bear is a part of it), plus there’s the aftereffects of COVID on Chicago’s restaurant scene. In season three, we got shots of Chicago, yes, and a lot of like, Wilco or whatever, but it didn’t feel grounded in the city the way it had in previous seasons. Not quite sure how to articulate this thought, but there you go.

The “haunting” the Faks go on and on (and on and on) about is so hamfisted, and felt so out of place for a show whose writing is usually quite taut, especially in its comedic moments. It’s just bashing you over the head with the idea that omg, it’s not just the dead that can haunt the living, the living can as well! What an idea!

I really wish Claire’s character was better written, but once again, her characterisation fell flat because she’s presented in mostly flashbacks, and through Carmy’s perspective at that, and that man apparently has difficulties understanding that she’s meant to be a person and not just a concept.

The moment in the final episode, where Syd and Carm are eating with other chefs at Ever, and one of them says “the greatest mistake is working for a bad boss, such that, what it unlocks in you is the culture that you choose to create”....hilariously unsubtle but fantastic nonetheless, because it’s followed by Carm confronting his nightmare boss (David Fields! I def did think he was a hallucination Carm was experiencing at Ever's funeral), and because it’s absolutely clear that Carm is also a fucking bad boss, and Sydney should absolutely not sign those papers. (I don’t think she should go with Adam and his new restaurant either, because the vibes are off there, too.) 

Along those lines: that moment where Carmy says, I think about you too much, and Fields responds with, I don’t think about you was fantastic, but also felt unearned.

Olivia Coleman’s Chef Terry saying, Service, bitches! was tremendous. 

Reiterating that I wanted to see more of Luca and Marcus together. I love them, your honour.

Selfishly, I indulged and binged this season because I was hoping it would unlock inspiration for me to keep writing my Tina fic and just fic in general but I don't think it did that, unfortch.

(Last thing: yet another season with Taylor Swift but no Fall Out Boy. We continue to suffer.)

[alritaklegacy]

Guss: This is delicious.

Risha: Too bad you don't know what it is.

Guss: Sure I do. It's a Victory Lake white fish. I'd say caught in a gill net. Probably two or three days ago.

Risha: [groans]

Guss: What? I'm a Mon Calamari I know my fish.

Marrera: Yeah, he's kind of like a trained seal, only without the "trained" part.

[yellowmagbrasil]

Sem dúvida nenhuma, a vida no campo é muito mais poética e mágica. A começar pelo ar puro da natureza ao redor, das frutas colhidas direto do pé, do leite fresquinho, em resumo no campo tudo é mais VIDA. Poucos têm o privilegio de conhecer o campo, pisar na terra, comer frutas colhidas na hora, tomar leite na fonte, se banhar no rio admirando a fauna e flora, ouvindo o canto dos pássaros. Olhar o mais longe que os seus olhos alcançarem e deixar que seus olhos se percam no horizonte sem censura prévia. Vivemos tempos tenebrosos, de desmatamento e escassez, de ganancia humana, e, nada melhor do que se voltar para toda essa maravilha da natureza, da vida saudável do campo valorizando e preservando o planeta, esse que é nosso lar. Os editoriais desta edição representam a poesia da vida no campo em muitas interpretações diferentes porque não há uma maneira única de olhar para a natureza. O editorial da capa foi estrelado pela modelo e digital influencer Isabelle Moreira, pelo olhar dos fotógrafos Carlos Mossmann e Glauber Oliveira (Yellow Photoz), com intervenções do artista Silvan Borer e Fashion film do cineasta Fernando Marrera. Estou muito feliz com o crescimento da revista em tão pouco tempo e gostaria de agradecer a todos que colaboraram para essa edição que na minha opinião, está incrível. Boa leitura! https://www.instagram.com/p/CUEHcPAtsjR/?utm_medium=tumblr

[latinboxsports]

IN THE WARZONE! @sucarojr Battles @yikesimtalented to a Controversial Draw. Worcester, MA. - Puerto Rico-native Wilfredo “El Sucaro” Pagan (6-1-1, 3 KOs), fighting out of nearby Southbridge (MA), and Bridgeport’s (CT) Carlos Marrera, III (2-6-2) fought to an entertaining 6-round draw in their battle for the vacant New England Junior Welterweight Championship.  The momentum moved from one fighter to the other in each round in what was the Fight of the Night at the Worcester, Massachusetts last night as Rivera Promotions Entertainment (RPE) and Shearns Boxing Promotions presented “New England’s Future VII” at the famed Palladium. @nate_boxing @teamlaperla @yourmajestymagana @ertlp_ @kingrivera_ @riverapromotionsent Photo credits: @mcmanawaytammy 📸 (at Worcester Palladium) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSqA416r54_/?utm_medium=tumblr

[adalidda]

Photo d'illustration: Intelligence artificielle (CC0 Creative Commons from Pixabay.com)

Appel à candidatures pour rejoindre le programme d’accélération de Techstars à Paris

Ce qui attend les 10 startups qui seront sélectionnées pour poser leurs bagages au Partech Shaker ? Un programme intensif de 13 semaines qui démarrera début septembre avec des sessions de speed datings avec plus d’une centaine de mentors internationaux, des workshops pratiques et concrets sur le recrutement, le marketing, les sales, la stratégie et bien d’autres, ou encore des founders stories d’entrepreneurs de renom et la possibilité de collaborer avec les 6 partenaires corporate du programme. Parfait pour accélérer le développement de sa startup et faire tester sa solution à de grands groupes.

WANTED: des équipes solides prêtes à disrupter leurs industries Intelligence artificielle, machine learning, expérience client, cybersécurité, assistants vocaux, IoTs, etc., le programme d’accélération de Techstars Paris s’adresse à toutes les startups quel que soit leur secteur d’activité, qui misent sur la technologie pour transformer les industries et disposent déjà d’une vision globale.

La date limite pour soumettre votre candidature: 12 mai 2019

Lisez la suite https://fr.adalidda.com/posts/ZkbNpc4xwMDxAMqvz/appel-a-candidatures-pour-rejoindre-le-programme-d

[nicholasbrooklyn]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Monique Nicholas (@nicholasbk)

Vimarry Marrera competing for that $500 prize at the preliminary round for Lyricalympics Nicholas Brooklyn 1396 Fulton St Brooklyn, NY 11216 (718) 858-4400 #lyricalympics #nicholasbk #brooklyn #bedstuy #nyc (at Nicholas Brooklyn)

[kiara-carrera]

[ COMFORT ] - noticing that the receiver has received terrible news, sender offers them a hug as a means of comforting them during this difficult time. + your choice!!!

took the prompt as a loose suggestion because it’s not necessarily bad news, but it’s a hug of comfort soooo

comfort: abby + kiara

The Kook Academy was a vicious jungle, but Kiara had learned too late that Sarah Cameron was an apex predator.

Top of the food chain, she was the untouchable, the princess of the Kooks. The Kook Academy lived and breathed as a hierarchy of power and Sarah was at the top. They weren’t even seniors yet and still, the will of the people around them always seemed to undoubtedly bend in her favor. It wasn’t hard to see why. Sarah was gorgeous, effortlessly beautiful even on her worst days. And she knew how to fake a smile, how to play the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect friend.

The perfect best friend.

But it was all a lie and Kiara had found herself stuck in the middle of all of it, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

Kie had been a fish out of water when freshman year had started. She didn’t fit in. She’d gone to the public elementary and middle schools, away from the elitism of the schools where Figure Eight residents sent their kids. But when it came down to it, she’d always been different than her friends, no matter how badly she wanted to just be a Pogue. She’d always be in the middle, a foot in both worlds, a rich kid who “slummed it” on the south side of the island. But that was how she liked it and in hindsight that was how she should have kept it.

But her parents had shipped her off to the private high school and she’d been off balance ever since. Sarah Cameron had been a life preserver when she had been drowning and next to Sarah, Kiara’s life had shifted. She’d isolated herself from her old friends, but she had Sarah.

She had the popularity, the friends, the parties, the never ending stream of feeling like she was on top of the world.

Until Sarah promptly kicked her off the very same pedestal she’d allowed her to perch on for all those months.

As she finished up in the bathroom, alone during her free period, she was reminded of just what kind of a fucking pathetic 2000′s teen movie nightmare she was living in.

Kiara Carrera's a rat! was scribbled on the stall door in bright pink sharpie, alongside multiple crude drawings, a few phone numbers whose owners probably had no idea they were there, and a mention of some guy in the grade above her having crabs. 

TMI, Kiara thought, nose scrunched in disgust.

But mostly, her eyes kept straying back to that one word, that one name that had been tacked onto her name since Sarah’s birthday. 

She figured there were worse things she could be called, but it was the principle of the situation. It had been months now. Kiara had figured that in a school like the Kook Academy, a party being broken up by the cops would have been old news by now. But when fingers had been pointed and she’d been labeled as the snitch, apparently the situation blowing over hadn’t been in the cards. 

Like, okay, sure, she technically was the one who called the cops. But no one knew that and she’d just had the crime pinned on her anyways because Sarah fucking Cameron refused to do anything about it. And what was she supposed to do? It was bad enough that Sarah had already iced her out. Kiara had been ghosted for weeks before her birthday and then the rager unfolding at Tannyhill had been all over Instagram. It was just more salt in the wound and Kiara’s jealousy had won over.

And now, she supposed, she was paying the price.

Sophomore year was like a wound that refused to heal, aching over and over again. Her distance from her newfound friends was colossal and her “Kook year” was one for the books. It was still technically ongoing, but she was back to being a fish out of water in this callous fucking school, her only reprieve coming at night and on weekends when she could fall back into the fold of Pogue life now that she’d finally gotten her old friends, her real friends, to forgive her.

But the incessant name calling, the writing on the walls, the near total isolation for eight hours a day, five days a week? A couple hours with the Pogues wasn’t enough to combat that and Kiara felt bitter, hot, angry tears stinging the back of her eyes as she shouldered her way out of the stall.

“Stupid fucking Kooks,” she muttered under her breath as she reached the sinks. Annoyance flooding through her, she aggressively began washing her hands, glancing up to look in the mirror after a few moments.

She could finally recognize herself again, the way she hadn’t been able to all those months playing make believe with Sarah and her fake friends, but she wasn’t happy here. Nothing at this godforsaken, elitist, fascist school made her happy except —

In the mirror behind her, the bathroom door burst open. “Oh, Kie, hey!”

Abigail Mitchell practically floated into the room with ease, a smile on her lips. She was in the middle of pulling her dark hair back with a brightly colored scrunchie, the red color matching the strawberry earrings dangling from her ears. Her eyes, those impossibly blue eyes that always reminded Kie of the ocean, only seemed to brighten at the sight of her friend.

Friend.

Where Sarah had been a momentary life preserver, Abigail Mitchell had been a saving grace, waltzing into Kiara’s life at the Kook Academy in the eleventh hour, right when she’d gone from top of the heap to team reject. Kiara had been hesitant, resistant even, to making another friend on this side of the island but  Abby was ... different, to say the least.

Like most of Figure Eight residents, she came from old money and she was on friendly-ish terms with some of the Kooks but the difference was all in the perspective. Despite the outward appearance and the obnoxiously large mansion she lived in, Abby had lived on the Cut for seven years before her mother died and she was shipped off to live with her grandparents. For seven years, she had known the world that Kiara had one foot in.

And although it had been years since her grandparents gained custody of her, most of Figure Eight still saw Abby as the outsider with the flighty mom. Good enough to converse with at school and at functions because of her status as a Mitchell, but not good enough for anything else, apparently. She learned how to play the part, to look the part, to make paper thin “friendships” with those around her, but Kie had been lucky enough to actually get to know the real Abby — the girl that Abby was and longed to be.

Even though they hadn’t been friends long, Kie just knew that Abby fully got what it was like to be on the outside, never truly fitting in, and not having a desire to fit in. From the picture Abby had painted for Kie, she’d never really had any real friends here, had never been able to see eye to eye with any of the facades the people around them liked to meticulously maintain.

And when Kiara had been kicked to the curb, Abby had been the only one show her actual, real kindness. Abby just ... got her, and after what Kiara had gone through, there was nothing more comforting than someone who just understood.

“Hey yourself,” Kiara mumbled, forcing a smile on her face as she finished washing hands, shaking them dry into the sink. She tried to make the expression look genuine as she turned to face Abby, although the effort was in vain.

Her lack of a good mood was apparently noticeable at the drop of a hat, a frown working its way onto Abby’s face. “Are you okay?”

Unconsciously, Kiara’s eyes flickered to the stall.

Abby caught Kiara’s glance at the stall, her brows knitting together in confusion. Her gaze shifted between the door and Kie for a moment, wheels turning in her mind, putting the pieces together. 

“Oh, come on,” she mumbled under her breath, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as she marched over.

“Abby —”

Before Kiara could even finish her sentence, Abby had the door open, eyes locked on the words defacing it.

“This shit’s still going on?” Abby cursed, turning around on her heel to look at Kie in question. But her annoyance wasn’t directed at her, Abby’s eyes flitting to the ceiling as she continued, “I swear to God, everyone at this school has the mentality of a badly written teen soap villain.”

Kiara shrugged, rolling her eyes. “I’m used to it, everyone here hates me, I’ve gotten the memo.”

She wasn’t fine, but there was no way she was about to sob in the bathroom like a three year old just because a bunch of assholes who flaunted daddy’s credit card everywhere wanted to have her name in their mouths constantly. And not in front of Abby, especially not in front of her.

Kiara wasn’t really sure what it was about Abby that made her so comfortable and on her toes all at once. Sarah had royally fucked with her view of friendship outside of John B, JJ, and Pope, and she spent most days waiting for the other shoe to drop, to become the punchline of another joke, for Abby to ghost her too.

But then Abby would give her that look, that soft little look like the one she wore right now and the world would seem slightly less bad. Abby took short, quick steps over to the sinks, holding out an almost hesitant hand to Kiara. She looked nervous almost, like Kiara was going to bat it away, but the tension in her shoulders dropped when Kiara accepted.

Two warm, soft palms met in the middle, a jingle of multiple bracelets on either wrist as soft expressions were on either face. Their eyes locked for a moment before Abby was gently tugging her in, wrapping her arms around Kiara in a comforting embrace. Kiara’s eyes squeezed shut as the sting of tears bit at the edges of her sight as the shorter girl tightened the hug just a little more.

“Hey, look,” Abby said after a moment. She slipped loose from the hug, hands drifting up to hold onto Kiara’s shoulders, giving her a stern look. “Fuck ‘em. No one at this school is worth your time, okay?”

You are, Kie thought absentmindedly. She didn’t say that, though, the words stationary on the tip of her tongue. It was a bold statement, a heavy statement, not one for a newly blossoming friendship. But it was the truth, whether she said it out loud or not.

A small, yet vibrant smile broke out on Kiara’s face as she repeated, “Fuck ‘em.”

“That’s my girl!”

[latinboxsports]

Puerto Rico-native Wilfredo “El Sucaro” Pagan (6-1-1, 3 KOs), fighting out of nearby Southbridge (MA), and Bridgeport’s (CT) Carlos Marrera, III (2-6-2) fought to an entertaining 6-round draw in their battle for the vacant New England Junior Welterweight Championship.  The momentum moved from one fighter to the other in each round in what was the Fight of the Night at the Worcester, Massachusetts last night as Rivera Promotions Entertainment (RPE) and Shearns Boxing Promotions presented “New England’s Future VII” at the famed Palladium. @nate_boxing @teamlaperla @yourmajestymagana @ertlp_ @kingrivera_ @riverapromotionsent Photo credits: @bonesprojectwave 📸 (at Worcester Palladium) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSnxw-ervph/?utm_medium=tumblr

[edgargoldenboy]

Celebrating Christmas with part of my family in #NYC #marrera in the background @dawin #dessert (at Ozone Park-atlantic Ave)

[mr-e-gallery]

Roberta Marrera

Hell oh kitty

[kiara-carrera]

02 & 83 for the spotify wrapped ask gwme!

2. the origin of love, riverdale cast | we really don’t need to discuss why this is on here i am ✨embarrassed✨ but also the song is about like soulmates and stuff, so honestly...loki and astrid

83. she, dodie | this is totally an abby and kie song, like the soft love, the yearning

send me a number for a spotify ship!

[kiara-carrera]

mirrorball by taylor swift

i have zero explanations for this but this strikes me as such a song for abby and kiara like the section that’s like “i've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try, i'm still on that trapeze, i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me” has always given me vibes of like a “here are all of my flaws and shit but i love you so much pls love me regardless” situation and idk i’ve always just felt very marerra about bits of this song

send me a song for a ship!