#salsa🎵

[tavatinta]

🎶 Nuestro Sueño - Grupo Niche 🎶

Una mirada bastó 👀 Así sucedió ✨ Ausentes las palabras 🤐 Mi cuerpo vibró 🔥 Cuando su mano tomé 🤝 El cielo miré 🌌 El brillo de sus ojos ✨ Sus labios besé 💋 Así como se fue 👋 Así vendrá 💫 En alas de dicha 🦋 El viento traerá 💨 Hoy te espero porque el sueño 😴 Que mi vida imaginó 💭 Es el mismo sueño 😴 Que tu amor me inspiró ❤️ Que mi amor te enseñó ❤️

[mjonthetrack]

real

Chapter 78: “Cheeks, Chaos & Consequences”

🎵 “Wipe me down…” 🎵 BOOSIE. Full blast. The crowd unhinged. That Freaknik bass slapping everybody’s morals clean out their chest.

And right in the thick of it?

The girls.

Still crowd surfing.

Still twerking.

Still on demon time.

Samara didn’t even know where she was anymore. Her lashes was sliding, bikini barely hangin’ on, the blunt behind her ear miraculously still intact. She had one hand in the air and the other on some dude's shoulder as she rolled her hips to the beat like she was on a pole in a past life.

Jenny was gripping two cups and screaming,

“MY MAN LOVE ME REGARDLESS!” Like Sefa wasn’t in the damn crowd, steam coming off his braids.

Trinity? This woman was throwing up peace signs with her feet while two frat boys held her in the air.

Then came Samara’s Moment of Mistake™.

The crowd shifted.

She got passed forward.

Cheeks. Out. Glazed up.

She felt strong hands catch her— “Ohhh y’all gentle with it,” she slurred, giggling. “Hold me real soft, I got trauma in my shoulder—"

But then she threw it back.

Hard.

With expertise.

Clap. Clap. CLA-CLAP.

Like she was trying to win a BET Uncut award from the grave.

And the crowd screamed.

Except it wasn’t random hands holding her anymore. It was one pair. One tall-ass, tatted-up, thick-palmed, Samoan ass pair of hands.

Jey.

Angry. Silent. Murder in his eyes.

And Samara?

She was still throwing that thang.

Didn’t even look back.

Didn’t feel the rage radiating.

Didn’t hear the sudden silence from the girls who definitely saw what was happening.

Then…

SMACK.

Cheeks? Met jawline.

Her head turned over her shoulder—eyes glazed, mouth parted to moan some drunk nonsense— And saw him.

Jey.

His jaw clenched.

That vein in his temple dancing salsa.

His hands still gripped her thighs, muscles flexing, because he refused to drop her in this chaos, no matter how bad he wanted to throw her ass in a trash can.

Her lollipop dropped out her mouth.

“...J-Joshua?”

His brows lowered.

He spoke low through gritted teeth:

“You throw this ass on one more man, I’m locking you in my trunk.”

She blinked.

“...You caught me?”

“I caught this ass, Samara.”

Jenny was screaming in the background laughing, Trinity about to get caught next by Jimmy who was bulldozing through people like it was Royal Rumble: Marriage Edition.

Samara just slapped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “...Oops.”

And that was the last straw.

Jey threw her over his shoulder like a damn sack of sins and started walking through the crowd while she weakly kicked her legs yelling, “PUT ME DOWN YOU POSSESSIVE SIMP!”

“Shut up. You grounded.”

Chapter 79: “Girl, You Thought You Ate?”

It was the calm after the drunk storm—if calm meant sweaty backs, smeared lashes, and a parking lot full of salty men with war in their eyes.

And then it happened.

Jenny touched down from the crowd surfin’ like she was reborn in the Spirit of Freaknik, laughing, her gold grill flashing under the parking lot lights. She turned, looking for Samara—only to spot Sefa.

Standing. Arms crossed. Timbs planted. Braids slicked back but swinging like they had attitude. And that white tee? Already stretched from him throwing people out the way trying to get to her.

“...Babe?” Jenny blinked, trying to fix her top. “Why your eyebrow twitchin’ like that?”

“Get. Yo. Ass. Over here.” His voice came out deep as hell, that dangerous whisper. The kind that made grown men fold like laundry.

“...I was just dancing–”

“On what? Jenny? The mic stand? Or the 6’5” linebacker that had both hands on your waist?”

Jenny paused. Looked at her drink.

“…It was Casamigos fault.”

Sefa ain’t even entertain the joke. He snatched her arm, spun her around, wrapped his jacket around her near-naked body and hissed in her ear:

“You lucky I love you. You lucky you cute. You lucky I didn’t beat everybody you threw it back on. And you got one more time to crowd surf like you on a Jesus float.”

She blinked, stunned, then muttered: “Okay, Daddy…”

Sefa damn near combusted.

Trinity’s turn?

That woman was mid-split on the grass, phone in her hand like she was about to go viral on TikTok.

Cue the Jimmy Jump-Scare.

“TRINITY LANAE’ FATU!”

Her entire soul left her body.

She squealed, jumped up, nearly tripped over her own shoe. “Baby?!” she gasped, already trying to pull her shorts down to cover cheeks that had been hollering to Uncle Luke moments ago.

Jimmy’s face was red. RED. Vein in the neck. Breath short like he been chasing her through five counties.

“You doing splits? With Hennessy in your hand?!! While ‘Whoop Rico’ playing in the back?? You got my daughter in cheerleading and you out here poppin’ it like you in a Greek week competition!”

“I–it was just a little–a lil’ movement–” she tried.

“You was upside down, Trinity! Upside. DOWN. They done tagged you in a reel! My homies can SEE IT.”

She blinked at him. “...Which reel?”

“ALL OF THEM!”

Jimmy ripped his hoodie off and threw it over her body, looking at the rest of the parking lot like he was ready to go to war with every dude who breathed too close to his wife.

Trinity didn’t even fight it.

Samara, meanwhile?

Still dangling over Jey’s shoulder with no remorse yelling,

“That’s what y’all get for hangin’ with me! Shoulda stayed at home with your lil husbands!”

Jenny and Trinity both glared at her as she giggled and bounced with every one of Jey’s heavy-ass, angry stomps.

Zion peeked his head out the SUV, holding his phone camera.

“Say hi to the livestream,” he muttered. “Y’all hoes is embarrassing.”

Chapter 80: The Snitch Gets a Feast, the Girls Get Humbled “Operation: Escape These Polynesian Papas”

The Fatu household was split straight down the middle like a high school cafeteria after a messy breakup.

On one side? Zion, sittin’ tall and smug at the dinner table with a plate stacked like Thanksgiving. Gold forks. His favorite pineapple soda. Chicken wings with extra lemon pepper dust. Some fries from his favorite spot. The boy even had a candle lit beside his plate like he was the damn guest of honor on an awards show.

Sefa slid him a hot honey-glazed rib. Jimmy poured him another splash of juice like it was champagne. Jey? That man had the nerve to crouch down in front of his son like it was a medal ceremony.

“You did good, son. Real good. We needed eyes on the inside.” He looked proud. Too proud. “You one of us now.”

Zion beamed. “Do I get, like… a cool name or code or somethin’?”

Jimmy leaned over. “We call you Lil Wire Tap.”

Sefa grinned. “Nah, he Zion 007 now.”

Meanwhile…?

In the back of the house, behind the big-ass couch?

Chaos.

Samara was laid on her belly, hair tied back with one sock halfway off, whisper-yelling like she was lead commander on a mission.

“Okay, Jenny—you belly too round to slide flat, so you gone have to lift up on your elbows. Trinity, stop giggling you sound like a teacup chihuahua.”

Jenny huffed. “It’s the booty, not the belly.”

Samara flicked her middle finger up. “Same difference.”

They were in full tactical crawl mode. Palms to the carpet. Elbows bent. Matching white socks and regret on their faces. Every time a floorboard creaked, they froze like Toy Story toys.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen:

“—and then he said my momma was throwing it in a circle but it was actually more like a square,” Zion told the men, chewing loud as hell. “It was real bad. I almost cried.”

Jey gently patted his son’s head, eyes closed in disappointment. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Sefa handed him a mochi donut. “You strong for making it through, lil bruh.”

Jimmy toasted him with a Capri Sun. “Fatu men protect the women… even from themselves.”

Back in the trenches?

Trinity whisper-screamed, “Is that a Capri Sun? Are you kidding me right now?”

Jenny grunted. “Y’all smell them ribs too?”

Samara glared toward the dining room like she could kill Jey with her retinas. “You know what? F this.”

She rolled to her side, held up her fingers in a silent hand gesture sequence like she’d been training for this moment.

🫡👉🏾🤫👣🏃🏾‍♀️🪖💥

The girls knew exactly what it meant:

Crawl out the back, we regroup at Trinity’s car, no sudden moves, no loud asses, GO.

In a flash of fishnets, stolen hoodies, and shame, they army crawled in synchronized rhythm to the back hallway. Jenny crab-walked over a throw pillow. Trinity duck-rolled under a plant. Samara dolphin-flipped behind the kitchen island like she was in an Olympic tryout.

Jey looked up right as the back door creaked.

“…Was that the wind?”

Zion didn’t even look up from his chicken.

“Nah. That was guilt in the form of three half-naked fugitives.”

Jey stood.

“Lock the front door.”

Jimmy already cracking his knuckles. “Time to go gather our lil' freaknik fugitives.”

Chapter 81: Freaknik Fugitives—The Great Backdoor Heist, Pt. 2 “Catch Me If You Can: Hoochie Edition”

—

The back screen door creaked like it ain’t been oiled since the ‘90s.

The girls were almost there.

Jenny’s hips bumped the doorframe ‘cause she was movin’ too fast and too thicc, Trinity caught her box braid in the curtain rod mid-squat, and Samara had her speaker in one hand like a football in the final quarter.

They were two steps from freedom when—

“Aye.”

That one word came from the throat.

Low. Heavy. Polynesian Daddy Mode activated.

The porch light clicked on like the sun itself was petty.

Caught. In. 4K.

Trinity screamed and dove into the bushes. Jenny tried to pretend she was sleepwalking. Samara froze with her hand on the gate, hoodie slipping off her shoulder, glitter on her cheekbone still shining like crime scene evidence.

Jey stepped forward slowly like a horror movie villain that ain’t need to run. Sefa and Jimmy flanked him, tall, broad, built like disappointment and discipline. Zion watched from the front window like he was livestreaming an episode of Cops: Island Edition.

Samara straightened up, shoulders back.

“Before y’all say somethin’, let me explain—”

“Explain why your cheeks was doing the electric slide on my speaker?” Jey said flatly.

Trinity poked out the bush. “It was the Casamigos!”

Jimmy dragged her out by her ankle. “You said you was going to Target!”

“Target my ass,” he muttered.

Jenny tried the charm route, batting her lashes at Sefa. “You mad or you just hungry, baby? I got you a funnel cake…”

“I’m ‘bout to funnel you into the damn car,” he growled, picking her up over his shoulder like a sack of sin.

Samara squared up with Jey now, eyes sharp, jaw locked.

“What, you gon’ ground me? Put me on freaknik restriction?”

“Nah. I’ma remind you what house you live in.”

“I don’t live here.”

“Then take that hoodie off.”

She gasped. “You petty as hell, Joshua.”

“And you wild as hell, Samara. What part of bed rest meant crowd surfing and Casamigos? You got shot and your ass out here actin’ like Megan Thee Stallion’s spiritual advisor.”

Zion cracked the front door open just enough to slide a rib out like he was making an offering to the deities of drama.

Samara turned to her girls. “Y’all ready for the second attempt?”

Jenny dead serious: “If we do the serpentine zig-zag, they can’t catch all three of us.”

Trinity muttered, “We gone die.”

But then—

Outta nowhere, Samara juked left, hit a clean spin, and RAN.

The hoodie slipped off like she was shedding skin. Shorts riding up. Blunt still behind her ear.

Trinity screamed, “GO! GO! GO!” and followed behind her like she was in a heist movie.

Jenny hesitated, looked at Sefa, batted her lashes—

And got SNATCHED mid-wink.

Sefa didn’t even blink. “One down.”

Jey muttered, “Trin ain’t makin’ it past the sidewalk.”

Jimmy jogged forward. “I got her.”

That left only one.

Samara.

And Jey already taking his damn earrings off.

Chapter 82: “Knees of a Kingpin, Speed of a Scorned Baby Daddy” “Catch Me Outside Then, Joshua.”

—

The suburban silence of the neighborhood shattered like a beer bottle on concrete.

Samara was already halfway down the block, doing a light jog backwards like she was in a damn Nike commercial—but with attitude. Her glossy lips curved into a smirk, and the blunt behind her ear barely tilted as she tossed a braid over her shoulder.

“Boy please,” she taunted, loud enough for Jey to hear from the porch. “You ain’t got the knees to keep up. You might run a kingdom but not them hammies.”

Jey blinked once. Slowly.

“Zion,” he said without breaking eye contact with the woman jogging away.

“Yeah?”

“Hold my shirt.”

Zion, from the doorway, wide-eyed like this was the most intense pay-per-view drama he’d ever witnessed, caught the black tee Jey whipped off and clutched it like a holy relic. “Oh shit. Mama messed up.”

Back on the street, Samara kept pace easy, light-footed in her Nike dunks, shorts ridin’ up, glitter bouncing off her skin like crime scene stardust.

“I’ll leave yo old ass at the mailbox!” she teased.

Behind her?

Thud. Thud. THUD.

The sound of pure Polynesian pressure hittin’ the pavement. Jey didn’t jog. He stomped with purpose, shoulders squared like a damn linebacker who saw red.

Samara’s brows flew up. “Hold up now—why you closin’ in like that?!”

Jey didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His silence was the threat. That man picked up speed like an old Honda Civic with a turbo boost and zero morals.

She yelped, turned around for real, and started haulin’ ass.

“Oh, so you serious?! You out here runnin’ like this yo block?! JOSHUA STOP—”

“You said I ain’t got the knees,” he growled, voice closer now.

“I WAS PLAYIN’—!”

But it was too late. She juked past a trash can. Hopped over a scooter. Damn near did a barrel roll around someone’s lawn flamingo. And still—

He was right on her ass.

Jey had that dad strength + street hustle combo. His breath steady. Arms pumping. Cheeks barely jiggling like he’d trained for this day.

Samara shrieked again, turning down an alleyway.

“Okay you win! You got the knees! You got the thighs too, I see you!”

From the house, Zion hollered through his Capri Sun straw, “RUN FASTER MAMA HE LOOK MAD MAD!”

Inside, Sefa was recording on his phone.

“This going viral.”

Jimmy? Already out front on the lawn, hands on his hips. “I told her he’d catch her ass.”

—

End of the block.

Samara saw her out—Trinity’s car. Parked half-crooked. All she had to do was dive in like it was home base. But just as she reached for the handle—

Jey caught her around the waist.

She screamed, legs kicking mid-air.

“Lemme GO! I’m a grown ass woman!”

“And I’m a grown ass man who told you to stay yo ass home!”

“YOU AIN’T MY DADDY!”

“NO, BUT I’M THE ONE WHO GOTTA FIX YO BACK WHEN YOU THROW IT OUT AT A FREAKNIK!”

She froze. Huffed. Pouted.

“...That’s low.”

Jey didn’t flinch. He had her tossed over his shoulder like luggage with attitude. “You done?”

She crossed her arms upside down while hanging. “Depends. Y’all still got ribs?”

He smirked.

“You gon’ eat after we talk, and you sit that ass down.”

From behind the neighbor’s bush, Trinity peeked out. “So we...not runnin’ no more?”

Jenny, already in cuffs—aka her man’s arms—sighed. “We never had a chance.”

Chapter 83: “Sit Yo Ass Down, Samara.” —The Conversation After the Capture—

The front door slammed shut behind them like the final act of a soap opera. Samara sat hard on the couch, legs crossed, ponytail lopsided, face flushed and still mad that she got caught. She had the nerve to fold her arms and pout, even though she was the one throwin' it in a circle on top of Jey’s SUV like a freaknik Avenger.

Jey stood in front of her. Shirtless. Chest rising and falling slow. That golden brown skin gleaming with sweat and fury. The grill still glinted in his mouth even as his jaw clenched tighter than TSA at LAX.

“You done?” His voice was low, rumbling like a quiet-ass earthquake about to tear up a whole street block.

Samara looked up through her lashes. “...You chased me like I had a warrant.”

“You lucky I ain’t tase you.”

“Boy shut up. You ain’t even got a taser.”

“I am the taser,” he snapped, stepping forward. “What the hell was that out there, huh? You know how much it took for me to not lose my damn mind when I saw you throwin’ that ass off a damn stage like you was auditionin’ for a world tour?!”

She blinked slowly. Lollipop still in her mouth.

“You jealous or horny?”

He leaned down, both arms on either side of her on the couch, lips inches from hers. That damn scent of sweat, cologne, woodsmoke and pure Polynesian rage clouded her brain.

“Both.”

Her thighs clenched. Visibly.

He smirked.

“You think this shit funny, huh? Zion came home traumatized. Said you had cheeks clappin’ on livestreams and Jenny was gettin’ her back slapped to Casamigos while Trinity did a split in front of somebody uncle.”

“He snitched tho—”

“He twelve, Samara!”

His voice dropped lower, rawer.

“And you his mama. You think I like seeing you lookin’ that damn good with every dude from out the woods staring at you like they ain’t got no sense? You think I enjoy feelin’ like some other man might touch what’s mine?”

That last word came out thick. Heavy. Unapologetic.

Samara flinched just a little. She felt it in her spine.

“...What you mean yours?” she asked, quieter now.

Jey didn’t blink. He leaned in closer, his grill flashing, lips brushing her ear.

“You been mine since you was seventeen and cussed me out in front of my grandma’s church for lying about your name bein’ Samaya. You still mine now. I don’t give a fuck if you throwin’ it in circles or squares or trapezoids. I don’t want nobody else lookin’ at you like I look at you. Nobody touchin’ you. Nobody gettin’ to say they had a piece.”

“You wanna act like we casual?” he whispered, hot breath on her neck. “Then why the hell you still run to me when shit hit the fan? Why you still cook for me when you mad? Why you still call me ‘Joshua’ like you tryna pull my soul out my chest?”

She swallowed.

“You ain’t ready for me,” she whispered back.

“Baby, I ain’t never stopped wantin’ you.”

He tilted her chin up gently, the pad of his thumb soft but firm.

“You wanna run around the block half naked with yo lil homegirls, fine. But when you come back home? Understand something.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You belong to me. Ain’t no stage big enough to outshine that.”

Samara’s breath hitched. Her legs uncrossed. Her body leaned in like she couldn’t help it.

He leaned closer. Damn near nose to nose.

“Now sit yo ass still before I sit it for you.”

Her eyes widened.

“Joshua—”

“Nah, you wanted big baby daddy energy? You got it. Now shut up before I remind you who name you moan when the music stops.”

[stary-night]

Me trying to sleep:

My brain at 3am:

🕺Dancefloor, Cha Cha Cha 🕺

💃Salsa, Rumba 💃

🪩Tango, Mambo 🪩

🎶Bolero muy picante🎶

🌌Spacetime, gravity🌌

🍾Champagne, reality🍾

🎵Move to the beat of the Transcendental Cha Cha Cha🎵

[i-myselfcannot]

Will y Clarice: *existen*

Hannibal:

Hannibal es fan de la salsa, no tengo pruebas pero tampoco dudas

🎵 El Preso ~ Fruko

[sorikas]

Tagged by @wordsandcaffeine 🫶🏼🫶🏼to post 5 songs ive had in my rotation 🎵 (sorry it took me a couple of days )

I don’t even listen to Salsa but I love this song.

Found this band recently and instantly fell in love with this song ❤️

I feel like this will be my top genre for Summer, I don’t even know exactly what genre it is.

This song just gives me such a weird feeling but I love it.

Tagging @firstruleofmethclub

[tiramegtoons]

A song for you friend! I hope you like it :)

CALYPSO!!!

🎵🎶ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ

I love it!! I’ve never heard this version before

It’s more down to earth than the one from Harry Belafonte. I can’t choose, but this one is also very good

This one’s got more of a oo ahh salsa

Also some lyrics that weren’t included I thought were important to mention

“A lot of world leaders talkin' 'bout war

And I'm afraid they're going too far

So it's up to us, you and me

To put an end to catastrophe

We must appeal to their goodness of heart

And ask them to pitch in and please do their part

'Cause if this atomic war begin

They won't even have a part to pitch in…”

I think this was about the Cuban missile crisis in the sixties, but boy does it still relate today..

Also you buddy are making me wanna watch beetlejuice again ndndjd

[nnervous-wreck]

NNERVOUS.WRECK ‘S INTRO 🎵🎤

Kristopher / Vi / Ken / Junebug

┏━━➤___ Basic Info

┇_ { pronouns: } He/Him only ! (I’m very pro neo/xeno pronouns)

┇_ { age: } Fifth teen !!

┇_ { species: } Silly Coyote boy!

┇_ { gender: } Trans-man

┇_ { sexuality: } Queer / Unlabeled

┇_ { likes: } Anime / Manga / Art / Music / Animals / Headcanons / Coffee / Baggy clothes / Limeade / My bf

┇_ { dislikes: } LEMONADE. Oh and haters of fun

┇_ { hobbies: } Doom scrolling / Reading fan fiction / Making fursonas / Being strange online / Watch tv :3

┇_ { birthday: } June 24th !! (same as rui from pjsk)

┇_ { zodiac: } ☀️cancer 🌙cancer ⬆️gemini

┇_ { extra: } I’m very anxious will assume everybody hates me also I LOVE MIKU :3

┗━━➤___

════ ⋆ _ ⋆ ════

┏━━➤___ **favorites**

┇_ { color: } I LOVE PINK GREEN AND PURPLE AND BLUE !!

┇_ { food: } I’m a very picky eater but I love salsa and tabouli 🤤

┇_ { drink: } Coffee but I love a good tea and Dr Pepper

┇_ { activity: } Relaxing

┇_ { music genre: } pop punk, emo punk, and indie (Spotify said so)

┇_ { artist: } my special interest for years have been fall out boy IM A PETETRICK TRUTHER.

┇_ { song: } Hell Yeah - Bloodhound gang

┇_ { movie: } I’m not a big movie person… I like Scott pilgrim?

┇_ { tv show: } BLUE LOCK, jjk, chainsaw man, supernatural, Tokyo ghoul, Future diary, X-Men, (and I like creepy pasta)

┇_ { video game: } ENA BBQ and other stuff the kubscouts play hehehe

┇_ { book: } I only read manga but rn I’m reading one about a skull girl being a book seller!

┇_ { animal: } COYOTES I AM ONE BUT I LOVE GOATS TOO

┇_ { season: } Winter I love snow so much

┗━━➤___

════ ⋆ _ ⋆ ════

┏━━➤___ boundries

┇_ { pings: } Idm!

┇_ { DMs : } BEWARE IM AWKWARD

┇_ { frq : } “dni” I’ll block if I wanna but this is not a safe space for assholes and or hateful people

┇_ { flirting: } NOOO I’m happily taken by my bf dean

┇_ { touch: } dont jump through my screen then idc

┇_ { teasing: } if you think you need tone tags.. add them..

┇_ { nicknames: } Idm friendly ones!

┇_ { petnames: } gross no!

┇_ { compliments: } Ofc and masc/neu ones only!

┇_ { roleplay: } not my thing! Be free tho

┇_ { NSFW: } NOPEEEE

┇_ { tonetags: } Yes. YES.

┇_ { extra: } I am literally Castiel (spn), Bachira (bllk), Denji (csm), Yuji (jjk), Power (csm), Vi (arcane) And Uta (tkg) trust.

┗━━➤___

(🎼)

[zomb13s]

🎵 "Barrio Chronic" (Salsa Protest Anthem – jaren '80/'90 vibe) 🎵

(Intro: Heavy salsa brass sectie, funky gitaar, en een dikke bassline. De zanger schreeuwt:)“¡Escucha mi gente! ¡El barrio vive!” (Vers 1 – Salsavibe met punkachtige energie)“Veinte años en este barrio,donde las calles gritan nuestra historia,fumando mala hierba en la esquina,vómito en el callejón, ¡pero qué alegría! Los hombres sabían, las chicitas reían,**pero la mota siempre estaba…

[salsaconjuancho]

Falleció WILSON MANYOMA (Saoko) luto en la Salsa 🎵 de Colombia🇨🇴

[tavatinta]

El Día de Mi Suerte - Héctor Lavoe 🎵

Ahora me encuentro aquí en mi soledad, 😔 pensando qué será de mi vida, en verdad. 🤔 No tengo sitio donde regresar, 🏠 ni a nadie quiero ahora ocupar. 🚶 Si el destino me vuelve a traicionar, 🎭 te juro que no puedo fracasar. 💪

Estoy cansado de tanto esperar, 😩 pero estoy seguro que mi suerte va a cambiar. 🍀 Y, ¿cuándo será? No lo sé, pero llegará, 🕰️ el día en que mi suerte, por fin, cambiará. 🌟

[hodoskitchen]

Fried Fish Tacos Are a GAME CHANGER! #shorts https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_7mTDBLMdY Tortilla Recipe Ingredients: • 375g all-purpose flour • 4.93g kosher salt • 4.93g baking powder • 59ml olive oil • 236.59ml warm water Instructions: • In a bowl, combine flour, salt, and baking powder. Add olive oil and mix until crumbly. • Gradually add warm water, stirring until dough forms. Knead on a floured surface for 5-7 minutes. • Divide dough into 16 balls and let rest for 30 minutes to 2 hours. • Heat skillet over medium-high. Cook each tortilla 1-2 minutes per side until brown spots form. Stack tortillas and cover with a towel. Fried Fish Tacos Ingredients for Fish: • 1 lb white fish fillets (cod, halibut, tilapia) • 1 cup all-purpose flour • 1 tsp paprika • 1 tsp garlic powder • 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (optional) • Salt and pepper • 1 cup sparkling water • 1/2 cup cornmeal (optional) • Vegetable oil Instructions: • Cut fish into 2-3 inch pieces, pat dry. • Mix flour, paprika, garlic powder, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Add beer to make batter. • Heat oil to 375°F. Dip fish in batter, fry 3-4 minutes until golden. • Warm tortillas, assemble with fried fish, cabbage, cilantro, lime, and salsa. Mango Salsa Ingredients: • 1 ripe mango, diced • 1/2 red bell pepper, chopped • 1/4 red onion, chopped • 1 jalapeño (optional) • 1/4 cup cilantro, chopped • 1-2 tbsp lime juice • Salt and pepper Instructions: • Mix mango, bell pepper, onion, and jalapeño. • Add cilantro, lime juice, salt, and pepper. Adjust seasoning. Crema Ingredients: • 120g sour cream • 60g mayonnaise • 15-30ml lime juice • 5ml white vinegar • 5-10ml hot sauce • 1 garlic clove (optional) • Salt and pepper • 15g cilantro (optional) Instructions: • Mix sour cream, mayonnaise, and lime juice. Add vinegar, hot sauce, garlic, and cilantro. • Adjust seasoning and refrigerate for 15-20 minutes. 🎵 Music licensed from Lickd. The biggest mainstream and stock music platform for content creators. Stressed Out by twenty one pilots, https://ift.tt/7va2t1z License ID: mb6NyewoLay If you want to use music from famous artists, try Lickd to get track credits and unlimited stock music: https://ift.tt/sLV1SIc via Hodo's Kitchen https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRKj41sek4eLFU_3Olrzplg January 25, 2025 at 03:41PM

[latindanceshoesaustralia]

Son Cubano Baile Mezclando Con Salsa Casino | Toda una Vida Leoni Torres...

Son Cubano Baile

🌟 Son Cubano Meets Salsa Casino – Beginner Dance Class Demo! 🌟

In this video, we’re blending the timeless elegance of Son Cubano with the vibrant energy of Salsa Casino! Perfect for beginners, this class demonstration showcases how to dance to both styles within the same music, highlighting their unique timing and steps.

🎵 What to Expect:

A breakdown of Son Cubano timing and how it flows into Salsa Casino.

A smooth transition between styles to help you feel the rhythm and connection.

A fun and easy-to-follow demo to inspire your own dance journey!

Whether you’re new to these styles or looking to spice up your moves, this video is a great way to explore the magic of combining two iconic dances. 💃🕺

👉 Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe for more dance tips and tutorials!

#SonCubano #SalsaCasino #BeginnerDance #LatinDance #DanceTutorial

Dance Shoes

Dance Shoe

latin Dance Shoes

Video:

Maura Photography

[gersonbernal]

Todos tenemos esa canción especial para manejar 🎶🚗

#PixelyAcelera #MúsicaAlVolante #DriveAndVibe #PlaylistDeCarretera #RitmoSobreRuedas

¿Quién no ha encendido el auto, puesto su playlist favorita y sentido cómo la música convierte cada trayecto en una experiencia única? Desde los clásicos que nos recuerdan momentos especiales hasta los hits actuales que nos llenan de energía, la música y el volante son el dúo perfecto.

Sea que prefieras salsa, reggaetón antiguo, rock o pop, siempre hay una canción que se adapta al ritmo del motor y al paisaje que cruzamos. 🚦🎵

[agendaculturaldelima]

    #ElEscenarioDelMundo

🎭 Teatro: “¡A VER, UN APLAUSO!” 🤡🧩👮🚨🚌🙌

✍️ Dramaturgia: César De María

⌛️ Duración: 90 minutos

💥 Argumento: ¿Qué hacer cuando la muerte toca la puerta? ¡Le sacamos la vuelta! Tripaloca es un payaso callejero al que le ha llegado la hora. Enfermo, pero con una chispa inagotable, intentará escapar de la muerte de la mano de su leal compañero Tartaloro ¿Lo logrará? La puesta en escena es una sátira, llena de verdades incómodas expuestas a través de la comedia, el juego y la jocosidad. ¿Qué estarías dispuesto a hacer para librarte de la muerte? El espectáculo cuenta con música en vivo: cumbia, salsa y peruana en general con lo que se respira peruanidad durante toda la obra, desde el inicio hasta el final del montaje.

👥 Elenco: Gianmarco Loli Díaz (Tripaloca), Ronie Cusó (Tartaloro), Julio Navarro (Tartaloro), Miguel Soriano (Muerte 1) y Ethel Requejo (Muerte 2).

🖼 Arte: Luisa Caldas

💡 Iluminación: Jessica Neyra

🎵Compositor: Ger Vergara

🎹 Música: Belizario Casanova

📢 Dirección: Henry Sotomayor

🔎Productor Ejecutivo: Gianmarco Loli

📝Asistencia en Producción: Renzo Bazalar

© Producción: La Eme Colectivo e ICPNA Cultural.

▶️Video Promocional:  https://youtu.be/xQCqzS5ZBug

📌 TEMPORADA: Del 07 de Noviembre al 01 de Diciembre📆 Funciones:  Jueves y Viernes 🕖 7:00pm. / Sábado y Domingo 🕕 6:00pm.

🏛 Auditorio del ICPNA Lima (jirón Cuzco 446 – Centro de Lima)

🏷️ Entradas:

🎫 Adultos: S/.40

🎟️ Jubilados: S/.30

🎟 Estudiantes: S/.25

🖱 Reservas: https://bit.ly/teatrolimacentro

👀 A tener en cuenta: Obra dirigida a público mayor de catorce años. (14+)

[foreverinnaday]

I love salsa. it'll always pull on my heart strings. 🎵

[airbrushevents]

🌟🎵 Happy Birthday, Ivan! With an airbrush in one hand and salsa rhythm in his heart, Ivan's been on Team AE from the beginning. Join us in wishing him a spectacular day in the comments, and if you have a favorite salsa tune, share that with us too. 🕺🏽🎂 #HappyBirthdayIvan #AirbrushArtist @ivanlunaairbrushing