#gasolinas

[dominiopublco]

Con estrategia nacional de Energía, se mantendrá precio de gas y gasolinas: Secretaría de Energía

Se fortalecerá la industria petroquímica. Luz Elena González Escobar, secretaria de Energía, presentó la estrategia nacional del sector de hidrocarburos y gas natural, que tiene el objetivo de rescatar la soberanía energética. Con ello, dijo en la conferencia del pueblo, la producción de petróleo seguirá siendo para producción interna, además, mejorar la capacidad operativa, y permitirá el…

[autoapuntes]

Shell lanza en Puerto Rico la reformulada Shell V-Power NiTRO +

SAN JUAN, 25 de junio de 2024 – Toral Petroleum LLC, licenciatario y distribuidor exclusivo de los combustibles Shell en Puerto Rico, anunció hoy el lanzamiento de una nueva formulación de su combustible Shell V-Power NiTRO+, el combustible más avanzado en la historia de la marca, durante una conferencia de prensa celebrada en el Museo de Arte de Puerto Rico en Santurce. Después de cinco años de…

[quesadilla-day]

delicious jade 😋yummy yummy 😍

[nowshesdoingitallthetime]

HEY EVERYONE LOOK WHAT I FOUND IN MY CAMERA ROLL

📸: amandacurtis__

[marzipanandminutiae]

there's something weird about how Millennial Nostalgia Content is all stuff that the "popular kids" were into

like

I don't know

it just seems very strange to have my teen years represented by everything that felt uncomfortable and forced on me at the time, and that I generally tried to steer clear of. or just didn't know about because I was off entering giveaways on Holly Black's LiveJournal or pairing Ren. Faire bodices with jeans to go hang out at Barnes and Noble with my friends

(I was DEEPLY obnoxious. just want to make that clear. but all teenagers are and I happened to be obnoxious in a different way than some other teens at the time)

no, I don't remember getting sprayed with perfume every time I walked into Abercrombie. because I avoided Abercrombie like the plague. I'm not ~*better than*~ people who liked it, mind! it's just. that's not all there was going on in fashion and music and media c. 2007

[lover-of-mine]

What's the Theory with the cars? I'm sorry, I'm lost on that one.

Okay, given the way that the car in the front is a 57 Chevy Bell Air and the car in the back is potentially a Chevelle, and we know that Eddie has a Chevelle, I'm assuming either car show or a shop specialized in classic Chevrolet cars because there's something going on with the car that Eddie can't fix on his own. Metaphorically, I think a shop would be more interesting and it would explain why Eddie's truck is also in the back. Some people were thinking race, but you don't race in a 57 Chevy, yk? So I'm inclined to believe a mechanic.

[thecurefordepression]

[st-kitten]

"gasolina"

MIGUEL O'HARA x LATIN READER warnings: fun, lap dance, miles' mother (and her empanadas) words: 1,313

The Spider Society is dragged to Miles' party. Everyone is thrilled except for Miguel. That is until he sees you... dancing in the crowd.

As the doors to Miles' rooftop swung open, a burst of vibrant energy filled the air, engulfing the senses in a whirlwind of colour, music, and laughter. The venue radiated with a palpable sense of joy, the unmistakable hallmark of Latino celebrations. A captivating mix of Latin rhythms, from salsa to merengue, filled the room, setting a lively beat that invited everyone to dance.

Strings of papel picado fluttered overhead, casting a vibrant kaleidoscope of colours and patterns on the walls. Colourful piñatas dangled from the ceiling, promising sweet surprises to be unleashed later in the night. Tables draped in bright linens showcased an array of mouthwatering dishes, bursting with flavours that embodied the rich tapestry of Latin cuisine. Miles mother endorsed her empanadas to everyone, while his father gravitated toward his fellow officers, throwing cheers around.

"Ay! You guys came!" he chirped excitedly. He rushed to Gwen, in an attempt to give her a hug, but ended up performing an awkward handshake-turned-pat on the back. Pavitr and Hobie cackled in the background. Mayday sat atop Peter's shoulders and tried to touch the strings above. Everyone was in casual attire and didn't have to worry about putting any masks on. Pavitr could thus invite Gayatri, who wondered why he had these many diverse friends. Behind everyone, at the back of the group, Miguel stood still, eyeing his surroundings, already regretting showing up. It was on Peter's insistence that he agreed to come. But, mostly because Lyla RSVPd on his behalf without telling him.

"Nice, no? Loosen up, buddy!" Peter nudged his shoulder. Miguel chucked and excused himself.

He found himself leaning against a pole near Río's empanada table. Unbeknownst to him, partially because of his social anxiety, he'd managed to eat a handful of empanadas. Miles' mother was more than happy to keep adding on his plate, one after the other.

He watched people. It seemed like it was the only reasonable thing to do. Guests swirled across the dance floor, their movements a rhythmic fusion of traditional steps and spontaneous improvisations. The air resonated with infectious laughter and animated conversations, as friends and family came together to celebrate, their voices rising above the music, each word infused with warmth and passion.

Miguel's gaze fell on a woman dancing amidst the crowd. Yes, there were several girls and women at the party, but none that effortless.

You glided across the dance floor with a playful elegance, your movements a mesmerising fusion of confidence, grace, and just enough madness. Your body moved like liquid, flowing seamlessly from one intricate dance move to the next. The song accentuated the mischief, but the way you enjoyed dancing made Miguel stare at you, barely blinking. There you were, swaying and moving to the infectious rhythm, effortlessly owning the dance floor. Your enjoyment was contagious, and he couldn't help but be captivated by your carefree spirit. You had this way of making every step look natural and effortless, as if you and the music were old pals.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, completely drawn to the unfiltered delight you exuded with each and every move. It was like you were in her own world, dancing without a care, and inviting everyone around to join your groove.

For a brief moment, your eyes met, and he could see the mischievous spark in your gaze. He quickly looked away, but from the corner of his eye, he saw you walking towards him. Miguel didn't know what to do. He shoved an empanada in his mouth.

You sauntered next to him, greeting Río. "Hola! Por qué no estás bailando?" (why aren't you dancing?)

"Ay, no, hoy no. Probaste una empanada?" Rio asked you to try her empanadas, handing her a plate. You dipped the tip of it in the spicy dip and took a bite, humming in response.

"Ay, delicioso!" 'Verdad? I told Miles I make them good."

The spicy dip made your lips redder and plumper. You licked your lips, tasting it once more. Miguel, half an empanada masticated in his mouth, was truly ogling at you. You were radiant, not to mention gorgeous. A part of him wanted to see you dance more.

It was when Daddy Yankee's "Gasolina" started playing that things really kicked into high gear.

"Ay, esta es tu canción! Baila!" Río exclaimed. (this is your song! dance!)

You smirked, ready to hit the dance floor again and threw a glance at Miguel. You pranced toward the dance floor, hips and hands swaying proudly.

"Ay, Miguel, what are you still doing here? Go to her! Ve!" Río pushed Miguel by his shoulders. He was surprised to know how strong she was. He stumbled into the crowd, cursing out loud. But all his attitude faded when he saw how inviting you were, laughing and moving gracefully. Miguel couldn't help but smile. "Puto..." he chuckled to himself. Head down, gaze up, he advanced towards you. The beat of the music throbbed in sync with his heartbeat as he neared you. "I seen you watch. It's nice you come!" you yelled over the music. You broken English made you even more attractive to him. Miguel let out a laugh.

"What can I say? It's a good song."

Miguel was slow to start, still adjusting to the sudden change in energy. He cautiously looked around making sure nobody he knew could see him. You on the other hand, cast away the leash on you and moved to the beat with ease. With each step, you effortlessly mirrored each other's movements. You could see that he was still rigid, so you thought of something that might help.

The music surged, your bodies swayed and intertwined, guided by an invisible force of attraction. You turned your back to him, hands above your head, swaying your hips seductively, just enough to get him riled up.

Oh, Miguel was in a profound mood now. He knew what you were trying to do. And even if it was in public, he couldn't care less. His hands delicately held your waist, his touch light yet firm. You swayed your hips to the beat of the song, grinding your ass against his hips. It felt like a shot of adrenaline. Miguel finally understood the "tingle". He moved his hands from your waist to your hips, reflexively pulling you closer, letting your hips slap against him. He was guiltlessly hard.

He slid his fingers under the hem of your cargo shorts, letting them ride up. Your soft skin felt hot under his touch. By then, Miguel had definitely loosened up and was actually swaying his hips provocatively, synced to the bass. He spun you around and held you by your hips, one hand holding yours. He stepped back and forth, making his shoulders work to the rhythm. He held his arm up and you twirled under it, picking up the pace and shaking your body. With every turn, every spin, your bodies brushed against each other, kindling an irresistible fire. You loved how he was opening up. He pulled you closer by you arm, spinning you around and letting you fall, catching you just in time, leaning into you.

"Quién eres tú, bombón?" you asked. (who are you, hottie) (idk man roll with it)

"Someone you're going to be dancing a lot for..." he murmured in your ear, pulling you up, hands finding their way to your hips once more.

Miguel and you dance to the next several songs.

Meanwhile, the spider society sat atop the venue in Miles' special place, looking down at them.

"He's kind of... good at it," muttered Gwen.

"Good? He's killing it!" said Peter, holding his phone out, recording.

"I'd even go as far as to say he looks sexy dancing like that."

"HOBIE!!??"

"What; I root for lap dance Miguel," he replied.

"Lap dance Miguel. Huh."

"That's a nice name..."

[pepperf]

I'm just saying, y'all should listen to Gasolina (new audiobook by Gabriel Urbina) if you want THIS tickling your eardrums.

[welele]

[sublecturas]

“La chica que soñaba con una cerilla y un bidón de gasolina”, de Stieg Larsson en la #LíneaD.

[viejospellejos]

Era su primerito día:

Enviado por: Carmen

[thecryptidart1st]

More OGB sketches based on recent experiences:

*When it was raining recently in SoCal, I saw a tiktok where a high school student was showing a flooded hallway and people who have never been to an outdoor Californian high school were commenting in disbelief that we considered a sidewalk with a roof a hallway (which yes we do; its California)

*My lunch lady friend had the epiphany that despite huge generational changes, high schooler behavior remains a constant and she was serving to kids who reminded her of herself when she was in high school. My only response was “damn I cant believe Bowling for Soup was right”

* Apparently her high school has a night guy. Nobody knows what he does