#mexican trim tiles

[mexican-tile-store]

When it comes to accenting Mexican wall tiles, pencil trim tiles are a game-changer. These narrow, elongated tiles add a subtle yet impactful finishing touch to your design. Place them strategically along the edges or between the wall tiles and the border to create a polished and seamless transition. Pencil trim tiles not only enhance the aesthetic appeal but also provide a protective edge, preventing wear and tear over time. Transform your kitchen into a vibrant and inviting space by incorporating Mexican wall tiles with carefully chosen border and pencil trim tiles. The kitchen is the heart of the home, and using these elements together creates a perfect balance between style and functionality. The lively colors and patterns of Mexican tiles bring warmth, while the borders and pencil trims add a touch of refinement, making your kitchen a welcoming haven for family and guests alike. Accentuating your Mexican wall tiles with a border and pencil trim tiles is a creative way to elevate your interior décor. The combination of vibrant patterns, traditional craftsmanship, and thoughtful detailing creates a unique and visually stunning result. Whether you’re revamping your kitchen or enhancing other living spaces, embrace the charm of Mexican border tiles and pencil trim tiles to make a lasting impression. Transform your walls into a canvas of beauty and celebrate the rich heritage of Mexican tile craftsmanship.

#mexican border tiles #mexican talavera tiles #mexican trim tiles #mexican wall tiles #pencil trim tiles #mexican tiles #mexicantilestore #mymexicantile

[rusticahouse]

Mexican Border Tiles for a Stunning Finishing Look

When it comes to adding character and charm to your living spaces, the finishing touches make all the difference. One exceptional way to elevate the aesthetic appeal of your home is by incorporating Mexican border tiles. These vibrant and intricately designed tiles are known for their captivating patterns and colors, which can instantly transform any room into a visually stunning masterpiece.…

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#high relief tiles #mexican border tiles #mexican talavera tiles #mexican tiles #mexican trim tiles

[biciudades]

Pool Lap in San Francisco

Pool - large southwestern backyard tile and rectangular lap pool idea

#spa and pool #mosaic tile pool trim #cement plaster #rustic modern #ceramic tile roofing #modern mexican

[glorious-spoon]

Tidbit Tuesday

i was tagged by @sibylsleaves, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @bucksbignaturals and @thatnerdemryn to share something I'm working on! this is from what was going to be my big bang fic before I forgot to actually sign up, lol. loosely - very loosely - based on the midnight library.

-

Eddie opens his eyes in a rose garden.

That feels… like something, maybe, something he can't put his finger on, because the last thing he remembers is—

—rolling darkness and cold, a damp choking thing, pain sudden and sharp and all-consuming—

—he blinks, then opens his eyes again. Blue sky overhead. The distant rumble of traffic, the slightly closer sound of lawnmowers, the sweet, heavy scent of roses in the air. He levers himself upright, and discovers that he's on a scruffy little stretch of lawn bordered by terra cotta tiles, yellow siding on the house to his left. To his right is a short driveway with a car parked at the end: a '69 Chevelle, flawless green paint job glittering in the sunlight like a large exotic insect.

His breath starts to come a little faster. Because he knows that car; it's been under a tarp in his garage since his abuela sold the house and moved back to Texas. He knows that house, the yellow siding, the white shutters, the wicker bench on the front porch that surrendered to mildew and rambunctious grandchildren sometime back when Eddie was still in high school.

There's a man shuffling through the roses with a pair of garden shears. He's humming as he works, occasionally mumble-singing some old Mexican love song that Eddie recognizes but couldn't name. His slicked-back hair is iron-gray instead of wispy and white like the last time Eddie saw him, and he's wearing a guayabera shirt and those ratty brown huaraches that Eddie's abuela was always on him to throw out already.

He smiles when he sees Eddie, lifts a hand to beckon him over, and goes back to trimming the roses.

Eddie gets to his feet, slowly. His heart is thundering. There's not a single other person in sight; nothing moves in the sunlight. He breathes in the taste of roses, and wonders if he's really breathing.

-

no-pressure tagging @what-alchemy, @junemermaid, @fraddit, @phdmama, @daffi-990

@wildlife4life, @colonoscopys, @incognitajones, @alessandriana, @lynne-monstr, and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag game #my fic #911 #eddie diaz

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here’s an interesting Mexican style home that was built in 1968, so it has both Mexican & mid century vibes. It’s located in Tucson, Arizona and listed at $859K.

Beautiful entrance door with stained glass opens to a foyer with a coat closet.

The walls are adobe, but the brick areas, like the fireplace, are described as “burnt adobe.” Notice the MCM design of the shelving.

At the other end of the living room is a wet bar.

There’re arched windows and doorways, plus beamed ceilings and beautiful tile floors. 

Sitting area with a definite MCM feel.

Double arched doorways. Very nice architectural features.

Guest powder room.

The dining room is lovely. 

The eat-in kitchen is most definitely MCM style. Only the dark trim around the cabinets give it that Mexican flair.

This is nice- what an attractive main bd. Double doors open to the patio.

Amazing en suite.

Look at the beautiful home office.

2nd of 3 bds. has burnt adobe walls plus built-in shelving and a closet.

It also has a small tiled en suite with a stained glass window.

Look at the gorgeous pool out back.

The patio outside the main bd.

This home has been meticulously cared for- it’s a pleasure to see. (Wonder if the garden art conveys.)

And, look at this beautiful back door’s stained glass.

That’s some driveway and car port.

There’s even sculpture incorporated into the surrounding property.

And, here’s a view of the hood. It’s very private. 

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1601-E-Entrada-Octava-Tucson-AZ-85718/8442846_zpid/

#mexican MCM house #architecture #adobe house #old house dreams #long post

[internationalrealestatenews]

[ad_1] Relating to structure, few states in America boast as a lot variety as Texas. From fashionable skyscrapers to sprawling ranch-style properties, the Lone Star State has all of it. Nonetheless, one side of Texan structure that really stands out is its distinctive and gorgeous façades. These intricately designed exteriors mirror the wealthy historical past and cultural heritage of the state, making Texas actual property a sight to behold. Some of the iconic Texan architectural types is the Spanish Colonial Revival. Influenced by the Spanish settlers who arrived within the state centuries in the past, these properties function symmetrical facades, stucco partitions, and red-tiled roofs. The façades typically embrace arched home windows, wrought-iron balconies, and decorative particulars that exude a timeless and stylish allure. These properties completely mix with the nice and cozy local weather of Texas, giving them a fascinating attraction. In stark distinction to the Spanish Colonial type, Texan actual property additionally showcases a big variety of Ranch-style properties. This architectural type emerged in the course of the mid-Twentieth century and is characterised by its low, single-story profile and huge, open ground plans. The outside façades usually function a mixture of brick, wooden, and stone, creating a country but welcoming ambiance. With their sprawling entrance porches and easy traces, Ranch-style properties mirror the Texan spirit of open areas and relaxed residing. One other outstanding architectural type in Texas is the Victorian period's affect, introduced by the settlers from the East Coast in the course of the late nineteenth century. These properties typically boast lavish and complicated façades with ornate trimmings, giant home windows, and vibrant paint colours. Whether or not it is a Queen Anne, Italianate, or Gothic Revival type, Victorian properties in Texas are architectural marvels that transport us again in time. The flowery and crowd pleasing facades make these properties a standout wherever they're discovered. Texan structure would not cease at historic types; it additionally embraces fashionable and modern designs. Houston, the state's largest metropolis, is understood for its spectacular skyline that features cutting-edge skyscrapers. The smooth and glassy facades of those buildings symbolize the state's modernity and progress. Glass curtain partitions, metallic cladding, and modern designs make these constructions true architectural wonders. The juxtaposition of those fashionable masterpieces in opposition to the backdrop of historic buildings creates a novel and charming city panorama. One can not discuss Texan facades with out mentioning the long-lasting Tex-Mex type, which captures the simple Texan spirit. Combining parts of Spanish, Mexican, and Native American structure, these buildings showcase vibrant colours, arched entrances, and complicated tile work. Tex-Mex façades typically exude a festive and energetic ambiance, completely complementing the state's vibrant tradition. The architectural variety of Texas extends past residential buildings, with business and public constructions providing their very own distinctive facades. From the majestic Alamo in San Antonio to the futuristic AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas by no means fails to impress with its architectural grandeur. Relating to architectural types and facades, Texas has all of it. Every type tells a narrative of the state's historical past, tradition, and ever-evolving design developments. Whether or not it is the timeless attraction of Spanish Colonial Revival, the allure of Ranch-style properties, the opulence of Victorian-era structure, or the modernity of latest skyscrapers, Texan facades really make actual property within the Lone Star State stand out. [ad_2]

[joshrgomez]

you know what Brian Ortiz wish he could do cause he would make even more money. The shit I do for my living. Build shit. Then it’d be even more money and less loans or approvals. I asked PLENTY OF QUESTIONS OVER TWO WEEKS. I know plenty of fucking Mexicans that do a lot of shit. Grading (church member/me/dad), plumbing (cousin,uncle, Jamie), electrical (uncle, Jorge), carpentry (Juan, myself)

roofing/masonry/drywall/cabinets/painting/carpet/tile/flooring/trim/windows/irrigation/sod (myself)

Bring in 10 investors a few years into developing to form an S Corp. Put that S corp in stocks. Sell the company and keep the shares.

build another company for renting out land to RVs or a huge dock to rent out yatch’s.

focus on my clothing line and build that shit up. Bring in 10 investors and make it into an S corp. put that S corp into stocks. Sell the company and keep the shares. Anyone who knows about BUSINESS specifically money!!! Knows about this!! I knew about this shit YEARS!!!!! Ago. It’s just hard as fuck to do. Specifically with clothing or something that’s industrial. Cars. I would LOVE to build my own car. People need automation. EV charging stations. Paddle board rentals. Food like a Nobu. It’s extremely profitable people need to get to work and people need food on lunch break.

[vacationbyowners0-blog]

Apartment Bos-Ko

Apartment Bos Ko is unique with gorgeous furnishing and decoration. Escape to this beautifully designed and decorated apartment, lavishly trimmed in granites, marbles, Canters stone and Mexican Saltillo tile.

#beach and ocean views

[shaylynalia]

Hey guys, I have returned to Tumblr as I have something relevant to share with you! I made a modular set of Mexican ceramic tiles for Animal Crossing. It comes with several red squares, teal squares, porcelain blue, and modern black and white. There are also trim pieces for each, and two types of corners (for finishing off squares as well as turning corners for streets) which can be used interchangeably with any of the colors for a custom look.  You can use just one tile, just a few different squares with no trim, trim only, or go for the whole set-up if you're feeling fancy. I designed them to be versatile so that you can pick and choose what works for you (and your 50 allowed slots, lol). I included a whole bunch of photos to demonstrate how they can be put together and to show some ideas.  If you use them, I'd absolutely love to see what you do with them, as this is the closest I've got to true community game art modding in years and I absolutely love it. I've finished some additional path art as well as a couple one-off things, which I plan to post next! I'm already almost out of space on my design app, but as I publish things I can make more room to create new stuff.  Suggestions are always welcome, though hard guarantees are a little harder. :p My Creator ID Code: MA-1614-1745-5276

#animal crosing new horizons #acnh #acnh paths #acnh art #acnh custom path #acnh custom art #acnh custom design

[mexican-tile-store]

To enhance the overall design of your Spanish-style kitchen, consider incorporating Mexican border tiles. These tiles act as a frame, outlining the edges of your backsplash and creating a cohesive look. Choose a border tile that complements the colors and patterns of your main tiles, adding a finishing touch that ties the entire design together. Mexican trim tiles not only serve a functional purpose but also contribute to the visual appeal of your kitchen space. For a more subtle but equally impactful addition, pencil trim tiles are the perfect choice. These narrow, decorative tiles can be used to define the edges of your backsplash or create intricate patterns within the main tile design. Pencil trim tiles provide a refined finish, adding a touch of sophistication to your kitchen. Whether you opt for a contrasting color or a complementary shade, pencil trim tiles contribute to the overall aesthetic cohesion of your Spanish-style kitchen. Embracing the allure of Spanish-style kitchen backsplashes, allows you to create a space that is not only functional but also a work of art. Infuse your kitchen with the richness of Mexican and Spanish culture, transforming it into a haven of warmth, color, and timeless elegance. Let your kitchen tell a story with every brushstroke and tile, making it a place where culinary delights meet visual enchantment.

#backsplash #backsplash tile #murals #backsplash tiles #bathroom #counter tiles #bathroom design #bathroom renovation #mymexicantile #mexicantilestore

[rusticahouse]

#trim tiles #handmade tiles #mexican tiles

[bae-in-maine]

Juliantina Fanfic: A Garden Blooms in my Chest

Title: A Garden Blooms in my Chest

Author: Jude81 (Bae-in-Maine)

Fandom: Amar a Muerte (A Mexican Telenova)

Pairing: Juilana Valdes & Valentina Carvajal

Rating: Teen and up (for the moment)

Chapter 1 of 2: The Flower Shop

Summary: Takes place the same day they share their first kiss in the pool. Juliana and Valentina don’t fully understand yet that they are falling in love. Valentina sneaks off and buys flowers for Juliana. 

I’m tagging the following people who had commented on my tumblr about wanting Juliantina fanfic or who I know like Juliantina and might want to read this. @xlyre @damiana-atx @hedawolf @cleide12 @viguaquis @chopchopsupercat @stardust-07 @redblueidle @elcapitana @feelings-in-black

I posted this on A03, and you can read it here or you can read it on tumblr. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472953/chapters/41148656

************************************** 

The little bell above the door jangled as Valentina slipped through the front door of the small flower shop. It wasn’t much bigger than her bedroom, but the owner had managed to utilize every nook and cranny of the small space, adorning each spot with carefully arranged buckets of flowers. A few well-placed Mexican Sycamore saplings graced the sides of the door, and the small counter in the back of the store.

She smiled and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the flowers wash over her: agave, roses, morning glory, lilies and too many more to discern. She opened her eyes and stepped further into the room, carefully weaving her way around the black buckets overflowing with flowers. She bypassed the roses. They reminded her too much of her sometimes boyfriend, Lucho, although she doubted, he bought his extravagant bouquets in this small shop that was almost squished between a shop that sold beer and lottery and another shop that was more of a greasy eatery than anything else.

She had never really been to this part of Mexico City, although it was a few blocks from the hospital where Juliana’s mother was recuperating.

Juliana.

She’d left Juliana sleeping in her bed, her friend too exhausted to make the trip back to the hospital, although she had valiantly denied she needed the sleep, only needing to be with her mother. It had taken careful persuasion and promises that Valentina would check on her mother for the few precious hours that Juliana finally allowed herself to sleep.

She had already checked on her mother who had been sleeping, talked to the nurses, and had found herself wandering around the area, against Jacabo’s wishes. But she’d ignored her driver and bodyguard, needing the fresh air to help clear her mind. And soon she’d found herself in front of the small flower shop.

She stopped in front of the small cooler, staring at the artfully arranged bouquets. Roses, lilies, even some daisies. But they weren’t right, not what she wanted to say. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say, or how to say it; but her father had always told her that flowers spoke the universal language of love. It seemed as if he were right, for she vaguely remembered the flowers he would bring her mother, before she passed, before he stopped buying flowers for anyone until Lucia.

She sighed and turned her way, carefully picking her way around a small table display with cards and a few teddy bears. She let her fingers run along the small tablecloth on the table, her fingers bumping over the tiny crocheted laces. She didn’t even know what type of flowers Juliana liked.

Juliana.

She was floating again, Juliana’s hand clasped in her own, her eyes staring at the brightly white tiled ceiling that stretched above them like an endless sky.

The water was warm, almost too warm, and she wondered if maybe that had more to do with the nervous tumbling in her belly than the actual temperature of the pool. It was an unusual feeling, and it had taken her time to understand what it meant: the fluttering in her belly, the heat in her cheeks, the anxious tripping of her heart in her chest…a hellish combination of desire and fear. It was a monster pressing against her ribs, causing her lungs to ache with each breath.

But it was momentarily soothed as she floated beside Juliana, their hands clasped, arms pressed together, almost shoulder to shoulder. Their legs bumped in the gentle waves they created as they treaded water, Valentina bearing part of the weight of the water to keep Juliana buoyed.

It was only Juliana’s second swimming lesson, and she hadn’t taught Juliana much beyond how to float. But holding Juliana in her arms, using her own body to create a safe harbor for Juliana in the water had taught her more than she would have imagined.

Valentina bit her lip, her fingers trembling slightly against the lace. She stepped across the room to the other small cooler, her eyes straying to the lilies. Stargazers. They had been her mother’s favorite. She pressed her fingers against the cool glass, needing the solid touch to ground herself.

She was floating.

Her hand swirled lightly in the water as she floated, her eyes staring straight up at nothing, her vision filled with what could be: the feel of Juliana’s arms around her waist, the press of her face into the warm crook of Valentina’s neck. She shuddered, her legs losing their soft, careful rhythm, and her feet abruptly scraped the bottom of the pool.

She heard Juliana flounder beside her, her fingers suddenly grasping tightly around Valentina’s. She pulled Juliana up and into her arms, relieved that the other girl was laughing. They giggled, and Valentina brushed a few wet hairs off Juliana’s face, brushed them behind her ear, her fingers lingering against the delicate curve of her ear. She wanted to trace it, learn every gentle line of her ear.

They giggled, Juliana’s arms wrapped around her waist, sliding up to her shoulders, and it was inevitable; as sure at the rhythm of the tides and the rise of the sun with her love, the moon. Valentina dipped her head, her eyes filled only with the warmth of Juliana’s eyes, the beautiful slope of her nose, and the gentle curve of her mouth.

And she hesitated. Waited. Her mouth dry with fear, hope blooming so deeply inside her chest, that she was sure her ribs were cracking with the expanding pressure. It hurt, it ached, and it was a thousand times more painful then when she’d broken her arm when she was ten.

And then Juliana lifted her head, just enough, her eyes fluttering shut, her breath warm against Valentina’s lips.

She still held Juliana’s hand in her own, her other hand on her arm, fingers gently splayed around her bicep. Valentina could feel it jump under her touch, felt it bunch slightly and then relax, and then Juliana’s hand was on her chest, her fingers barely dipping into the hollow of her throat. It was enough.

It was barely a kiss, the smallest brush of lips, but it was a lightbulb that flickered and flickered and then steadied casting it’s warm glow at their feet. It was the smell of Jasmine and rose petals floating in the pool and misting across their wet skin.

Valentina leaned into the kiss, her eyes closed. She moved her mouth slightly against Juliana’s, just enough so she could feel the weight of Juliana’s mouth against her own. And then she could feel it, like ivy curving around each rib, pulling them back in place, creating a flowering, blooming lattice born in her chest.

Juliana.

“Miss? Miss? Can I help you, Miss?”

She jerked back, visions of Juliana disappearing like fog under a new sun. She carefully pulled her fingers off the cooler glass. Disconnecting. Returning.

She turned and smiled. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.” She brushed her hair behind her hears, hoping her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt.

“Of course,” the older woman smiled. She was short, with long black hair tied back in a simple braid. Her white apron was stained with greenery and flower pollen, and she held a single beautiful rose in her hand, clippers in the other.

She chuckled and gestured in the air with the clippers. “Not everyone likes thorns on their roses, so we trim some of them. Just so people have the option.” She turned back towards the counter, nodding her head for Valentina to follow her.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a flower,” Valentina murmured, cringing slightly at stating the obvious, but the other woman just nodded and smiled.

“It’s for…a friend.” It didn’t feel right. The word “friend” was sour on her tongue, and she wanted to spit it out or grind it between her teeth and swallow the remnants. “Friend” was too simple. It lacked color and vibrancy. It wasn’t the blooming flowers along her ribs, the garden growing in her chest with each passing breath, each thought of Juliana.

“Hmmmm…how about some white roses?”

But Valentina was already shaking her head, “No, something different.” She gestured helplessly in the air, before letting her hands drop to her purse, her fingers gripping the leather straps.

She shrugged, “It has to be special.”

The woman nodded, “What about a spring bouquet with daisies and lilies and irises?”

Valentina rubbed her forehead, a small headache blooming behind her eyes. It shouldn’t be so hard, but nothing looked right, or felt right. Nothing was enough.

They stood there in the pool, the warm water brushing against their skin, eyes closed, foreheads pressed together. She wanted to kiss her again, wanted to feel Juliana’s lips move against her own, taste the sweetness of her mouth, but she didn’t dare. So she stood there, hands pressed against Juliana’s skin, breathing the same air, flowers blooming in her chest.

“Flowers…they mean things,” she murmured, remembering when she’d sat in the garden with her mother listening as her mother told her each genus and species of flower and what they meant, what they symbolized.

“Yes, they do, although many people have forgotten what they mean, aside from some of the most basic like red or white roses.”

Valentina nodded, her eyes wandering the room, until she the one bucket filled with riotous blue. Hyacinths. She remembered her mother telling her about the blue hyacinths, traced back to a young Greek boy.

“Those. The blue ones. They mean truth, right?” She pointed to the bucket, her eyes already picking out the other individual flowers, her mother’s words filling her ears.

“Ah yes. Blue hyacinth means sincerity.” The woman picked through the bucket, pulling out five stems, carefully checking the bell petals for damage. “Perfect.”

She handed them to Valentina who smiled and closed her eyes, letting the scent wash over her. “Yes. Perfect.”

“You have Bird of Paradise?” Joy.

“Yes, perhaps just one? You don’t want to overwhelm the hyacinth. I will trim the stalk for you.”

Valentina nodded and continued searching the buckets. Roses were too mundane, daisies too simple for the first flowers she would buy for Juliana. She squatted down, pushing the buckets aside, and pulling other ones closer. She would need fern or some other type of greenery. But something else, something that represented them both, but symbolized…

“There you are,” she murmured as she pulled the bucket of dahlias towards her. Mexico’s official flower. Bond. Commitment. Because while she still didn’t fully comprehend the depth of her own feelings or what it meant for her and Juliana, she couldn’t deny the bond they shared, and she was committed to it.

Valentina chose two white with red on the inside of the petals, one completely white, and two white with purple on the inside of the petals. She wasn’t entirely sure how well it would match, and Valentina doubted Juliana would even realize it each flower meant, but she would know. She would know what it meant when she gave the flowers to Juliana.

She stepped out of the shop, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun. The bouquet was wrapped in brown parchment paper, and she cradled it gently against her chest. “Home please, Jacabo.”

*********************

She laid the flowers on her dresser and turned to look at Juliana, curled up on her bed still sleeping. Valentina could see the lines of worry furrowing her brow, and it made her heart ache. She wanted to soothe the worry and fear from her brow. She carefully sat on the edge of the bed, taking off her shoes and light jacket, leaving her in pants and a tank top. She swung her legs onto the bed and stretched out on her back, before turning onto her side so she could face Juliana.

Their hands almost met on the pillow, and Valentina reached out with her pinky and traced along Juliana’s knuckles, not wanting to wake her, but needing the careful touch to ground her. She leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to Juliana’s brow, but froze when Juliana shifted.

“H-hi,” muttered Juliana as she forced her eyes open, sleep still clouding her mind. She’d felt the dip in the bed when Valentina had laid down, and it had been enough to pull her from sleep.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s ok,” Juliana reached out and tangled her fingers with Valentina, shifting closer so their entwined hands were now nestled against her throat.

“Is mama ok?”

“Yes, she is resting. And the nurses said she will likely sleep for a few more hours.”

“Thank you.” Juliana opened her eyes wider, so she could focus on Valentina. “For everything. I-I…” she swallowed harshly, dropping her face, her lips pressed lightly to the back of Valentina’s hand. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Valentina’s lips against her own. It frightened her, not the kiss, but how much she had wanted it, how much she wanted more. And she couldn’t think about it now, not when her mother lay in the hospital with a gunshot wound, not when the cartel was still after her.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Val.” She couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped her, and she hunched her shoulders, her voice rough and wet now.

“No. No, Jules. It is ok. I promise. It will be ok,” she moved closer, wrapping an arm around Juliana’s waist and pulling her flush against herself, her leg between Juliana’s, her palm pressed flat against Juliana’s back.

She brushed her nose against Juliana’s, tears stinking her own eyes, the garden in her chest blooming and pressing against her ribs. “I-I…” she pressed her lips tightly to Juliana’s forehead. “You are safe. Here. With me. No one will hurt you or your mama. I won’t let them.” Her ribs cracked.

“I promise. I promise. I promise.” She whispered it repeatedly, the mantra filling the air between them.

Juliana relaxed, inching closer to Valentina, pressing her face under Valentina’s chin. It was warm and safe and smelled deliciously like Valentina. She smiled and drifted off to sleep again.

#juliantina #juliantina fanfic #juliana x valentina #amar a muerte #wlw fanfic #fanfic by Jude81 #jude81 #A Garden Blooms in my Chest

[mystblbk]

Chavela Valdes--Chapter 3

After shopping for necessities, mom manages to get a job at a local cantina and had convinced the owner to have her start right away. Panchito gets us back home in an hour, just in time for Milagros to growl at us about how she wanted half the rent by the end of the weekend. I would have yelled at her if it were not for my mom grabbing my bicep to calm me down. I stay in our room long after mom left for her new job, as a means to keep the landlord alive and to practice.

I cradle the instrument in my lap while slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. The roughly tiled floor rubbed against the skin of my thigh harshly, but I have no other place to practice seeing that the Evil Witch from the South was currently in the living room a few paces away.

Right then, let’s get started.

With the silencer covering my guitar’s sound hole, I practice some of the old ballads my guitar teacher had taught me. It became our ritual to teach me a new song every day, especially after the first week of class. No one truly wanted to learn how to play the guitar, they were just there for the easy grade, so having me actually wanting to learn was a godsend to the young teacher. Mr. Peña had been a kind person to me and even allowed me to take one of his practice guitars home after he noticed how I took to each lesson with ease. He must have seen something in me because after that he had me permanently placed into his class for the next three years of high school.

I wish I could have said goodbye.

I go through a few finger placement exercises until the sadness dies out, but the songs don’t. By the time I look down at my iPod and see that its almost 4’oclock in the morning my fingers have deep creases on the tips from the steel strings. I cradle my left hand and inspect the red digits. The worn skin has small cuts from being used again, but there was no pain to be felt. I sigh and close my eyes, hands instinctively playing a new song.

“I forgot how good you were.”

My mom’s voice shocks me and my hand makes a thumping sound as it hits my instrument. Mom gives me a sheepish look when I give her an empty glare from across the room. She smiles softly as she goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. Her long shiny hair is let down, and her clothes are exchanged with pajamas. Once she’s done, she comes to sit next to me. She cuddles into my side, reminding me of how I would when I was younger.

“You know I hate being startled,” I mumble, once we’re both settled in.

“Sorry, mija,” she grins, “Come on, play something for me?”

I look down at my mother’s hazel eyes and nod slowly, “What song?”

“Surprise me,” she smiles.

I nod again and quickly roll through the songs I have memorized in my head. My mother watches as I think then moves to sit across from me and against the bed. Finally, I start strumming the cocky and sassy song. Making sure my voice is clear, I start to sing with a grin directed at my mother.

Esas tus miradas de fulgor extraño Esa tu sonrisa de color de rosa Siempre me facinan aunque me hacen daño Porque eres muy linda pero desdeñosa

My grin starts to hurt as I see mom trying to hold back a laugh. My mood is cheery as I continue along, making sure to bop my head to the quick plucking I do.

Esas tus miradas de fulgor extraño Esa tu sonrisa de color de rosa Siempre me facinan aunque me hacen daño Porque eres muy linda pero desdeñosa

Mom coughs a laugh this time, her tan cheeks a little red for holding back her cheer. I try not to giggle as an effort to complete the song completely with no breaks.

Brindame el encanto de tus bellos ojos El sensual embrujo que en ti se adivina Para que en mi vida tan llena de abrojos Seas como una estrella que a mi alma ilumina

By now mom is covering her mouth with both hands, mirth bright as the sun rising behind us. My heart soars to see her happy, to bring some happiness in the midst of all this terror we’re going through. It’ the same feeling I had with Valentina in the afternoon, a painful need to see a beautiful woman smile at me instead of frown.

Brindame el encanto de tus bellos ojos El sensual embrujo que en ti se adivina Para que en mi vida tan llena de abrojos Seas como una estrella que a mi alma ilumina

As I go through the last fast-paced strumming, my mom’s giggles get the best of her once the song ends. I giggle along with her as she stands up from next to me. I place my guitar in its case on my side of the bed. My sleepiness night catches up with me as I set my phone’s alarm for later this morning, the volume only high enough for me to hear. With a huff, I settle myself next to my mother on our small bed. I glance over at the older woman and she smiles sadly at me before turning off our only light.

My mind continues to run long after my mom’s breathing deepens into a dreamless sleep. I stare at the ceiling, unused to the new sounds and feeling of the space I’m in. Annoyed, I quietly get up from the bed and make my way to the living room and into the kitchen. I pull a cup from the rack and fill it halfway. I sigh and drink slowly, trying to quiet down my thoughts. Once finished with my drink, I wash it quietly and place it back on the rack.

My footsteps are quiet on the neon pink tiles. I’m passing the coffee table when a familiar picture catches my eye. The latest issue of Cosmopolitan sits on the table with a dog-eared page. I raise an eyebrow and stare at the magazine for a second. Curiosity gets the best of me so I grab the paper book and flip to the page that is saved.

“No way,” I whisper gasp, “It can’t be.”

But it is.

Who else can it be?

Splattered across the page is a title to an article that should be in a National Enquirer instead of a Cosmo.

Léon Carvajal: El Ultimo Adios

Underneath the morbid title is pictures of a well-aged man in a fitted suit. His features are sharp but also aged just enough to show his age. His hair was multicolored, black fading into grey and then into white in spots. His smile was warm but strong as if to say he was the boss. Underneath the collage of pictures of his life throughout the years are pictures of his funeral form a few weeks prior. A strand of pictures is framed at the bottom but one, in particular, forces my attention on it.

In the center of the picture is a brunette with watery eyes wearing all black and sitting on a couch alone. Behind her are people lingering around a warm brown colored casket, a strike of platinum blonde surrounded by a group of brunettes. All seeming to be the immediate family. All not noticing what the lonely girl has in her hands: a silver flask.

“Valentina,” I whisper with a broken heart.

I read the article and get annoyed as they speak of my new friend and her family. The writer obviously using this man’s death as a way to sell copies of this month’s magazine. I sigh and close the book, making sure to place it where it once was so Milagros won’t see a difference. My feet still make no noise as I enter our room. Mom is still asleep as I get into bed next to her. I stare at the ceiling for a moment then close my eyes, one thought lingering in my mind.

Well, right now I don’t think it applies here.

“It will,” I mumble as I fall into the abys, “I’ll make sure of it…”

_________________________________________________.

The morning comes fast, almost as fast when we were on the run a few days ago. It blends into the day so well that the dream world isn’t even acknowledged to me as I wake up at 7’olock. I quickly get ready without waking mom up, knowing full well the hell I will have to pay for her not coming with me. I’m far too concerned with her getting her own rest then my own safety as I watch how peaceful she looks. The kitchen smells of food when I exit our room, but I ignore the woman cooking as my pride is too much for a pity breakfast from her. With a forced out ‘good-bye,’ I walk out of the house and into the sleepy streets of Mexico City. Pulling up the address on my phone, I pull the strap of my guitar case tighter as to not have it taken from me in a worst-case-scenario.

The way to my new job was a nice way to get used to the city as it goes through el centro and the marketplace it stands on. There are many streets filled with people selling form their homes or pop-up stalls, mostly of spices, fresh vegetables, and the occasional clothing or electronics. The scents of the pile of spices lined around my path tickle my nose in a way that reminds me of my empty stomach. I’m spared of this painful journey as I approach a large building sticking out of the mayhem as if it were a center point of the area. As I approach the restaurant I take not of its old Spanish style, the kind that was made to attract the tourist population: red brick with white trims and wide bay windows. My feet carry me up the flight of stairs and through the front arches leading inside to the second floor.

The fluorescent lights make my eyes hurt as I to adjust to my surroundings. I blink back the shadows and look around, taking notice of the large murals on each wall. Taking one side of the building is a large bar with two stainless steel doors that would lead to the kitchen. Decorating the counter behind the marble bar are figurines of Catrinas and Alembrijes on each shelf. There are artisanal wooden tables with matching chairs placed neatly in the space to make the best use of the size with paper floral centerpieces. It was a purely Mexican restaurant that one would see in a stock image photo.

“Juliana! Good morning!”

I look over to the sound of Salvador's voice and see him along with a group of five other young men that look to be around his age. Salvador stands in the center, a few inches shorter than the tallest man. To his right were two boys, twins actually, with light skin and eyes that matched their dirty blonde hair. Their round faces made them look young, a few years older than I am, and so did their smirks and bright hazel eyes.

On Salvador’s left were the other three young men, all three handsome and tall. The tallest, which stood directly next to Salvador, had black hair and dark eyes similar to Salvador except for the broody look on his face. On the broody guy’s left was a boy with dark skin, obviously from African descent, that hade burning green eyes to contrast the rest of him. This guy’s expression was kind and open, an expression that helped calm my nerves. Finally, the last young man had bright reddish hair and super pale skin. He looked like he belonged in the hills of Scotland, not the streets of humid Mexico.

As I approached the group, I pulled my shoulders back and stand straighter to make myself look taller. The second I was a foot away, the twins pulled me into a hug and started chattering into my ears. I stay frozen in place as the two boys tug me by my jacket.

“I can’t wait to hear—”

“No, you said we were—”

“No, Sal said we have to—”

“Sal said, more like you—”

“STOP!”

Salvador’s voice booms in the restaurant, shocking the twins to look back over at him.

“I’m sure you will have time to get to hear Juliana’s,” Salvador says as he drags them into submission, “Now, how about some food while we get to know each other?”

The twins quickly pull away and run to one of the long wooden tables nearby. I stare as they push each other back and forth like only siblings do. Sal brings me back to my current position as he claps me on the back softly and pushes me carefully to the table. We all take our seats and watch as two waitresses come and start serving us some traditional Mexican breakfast. My mouth drools as one waitress places a plate of huevos rancheros in front of me. I stare down at the food then look up and around me. The boys were all tucking into their own food, taking the liberty to take from the large dishes of sides on the table to place on their plates.

A tap from my right directs me to the dark-skinned boy, he smiles encouragingly and makes signals for me to eat in a polite manner. I glance at Salvador and he smiles back, so I sigh happily and eat along with them. The breakfast is good, the only downside is that I couldn’t eat more. I sigh and sip the rest of my agua de frutas while Salvador introduces the other boys.

The twins were named Raymundo and Ricardo, kids to a widowed father of a family of eight. The redheaded boy’s name was Francisco, or Franky, and was son to an American teacher and British painter. The darkest skinned young man was named Axel, had immigrated to Mexico City a few years ago with his parents from Argentina. Finally, the broody guy that looked very similar to Salvador was introduced to me as Raúl, Salvador’s cousin.

They were all kind, except Raúl who was still a bit cold and distant and talked to me about the city and such. The conversation came to a halt when Raúl reminded us of the two outfits that I had to try on. Salvador stood up and quickly went into the employees only room. The man comes back carrying two outfits covered by black coat bags.

“Sal huffed, “Thanks, Raúl. Juli, go try them on please.”

“Okay,” I sighed, taking the two bags, “be right back.”

Axel kindly points to the restrooms and I walk in the direction of them. I quickly go inside and let out a large breath I was keeping inside. Trying to calm my nerves, I carefully hang the two protected outfits on the stall door. A few minutes later I’m pulling on the tight black pants on, the pant legs are a bit longer than me but easily fixable. The soft white dress shirt is a bit too large but I tuck it into the pants before pulling on the black vest and finally the black jacket over that. The gold tie is tricky to get on, but after a minute of struggling I figure it out. The tan belt with obstaniously large belt buckle settles perfectly on my waist.

I open the door to the stall and step into the larger part of the restrooms. With a glance over the uniform, I turn to look at myself on the large floor-to-ceiling mirror. A gasp leaves me as I look over myself. The clothes are a bit too loose but I can see with a bit of a tweak here and there I can get it to look amazing on my small frame. I looked the part of a mariachi player, except for my loose hair and converse. With a small smile I use the band I keep on my wrist to pull my hair up in a bun.

“Better,” I sigh.

“Juli,” Sal asks with a knock on the door.

“Just a second,” I call back.

Taking one more look over myself, I turn and walk out. All five boys look up and take in how I look. Sal and Axel smile largely at me while the twins smirk and nod happily. Raúl walks from his position against the wall and walks around me, eyes rolling over me with a heavy stare. The boy comes to stand in front of me and stays there for a second. I hold my breath as he turns around to the table and takes the large traditional hat. Raúl slowly and gently places the hat on my head, positioning it to face forward correctly.

“You need dress shoes, maybe even boots,” the young man tells me, “What’s your size?”

I blink, “Uhm, nine.”

“Americans,” Raúl rolls his eyes but turns back to a bag he has next to the wall.

He pulls out a pair of black leather boots, “Put these on, they should fit. They belonged to my sister, but she doesn’t even wear them so…”

I stare at the man before sitting where he pointed me to. Raúl crouches down and pulls my tennis shoes off then replaces them with the boots, telling me to adjust the shoes as needed.

“Stand up,” he tells me, “I need to see that you don’t look like a fool next to us.”

I huff but do as he says by allowing him to look me over again. Once he is satisfied, Raúl nods at me then at the others.

“She’ll do,” he proclaims, “Just needs to get them both fitted, but she should be fine.”

Sal grins, “Good. Go take that off, except the boots so you can get them worn in and get back here so we can practice.”

“Okay,” I nod and turn to follow his orders.

I make it into the restroom and once again let out a large sigh of relief. Though I felt a bit on edge from having Raúl look me over, I understood his need to have me look good next to them. My mind kept traveling to the boys as I undressed and redressed, mostly thinking how easily we got along during our breakfast. By the time I had got the suit and hat into their proper places, I was ready for practice. The boys are now standing on the makeshift stage waiting for me as I approached them.

I look over the instrument they are holding as I pull my guitar out. Salvador, no surprise, is the other guitarist. Axel holds a shiny trumpet and is doing scales with Raúl who is the second trumpeter. The twins surprise me as they tune their violins, the shape, and color the instruments almost exact to reflect their owners. A grin pulls at my lips as approach my bandmates, ready to get to it.

“Alright,” Sal tells us, “You went through the setlist I gave you right?”

I nod to Salvador, “Yeah I went through it. I knew all of them already, so I’m fine.”

“Good,” Axel nods, “Let’s go through it and then decide which parts to add or correct.”

“Which brings up another thing,” Raúl huffs, “Do you know how to sing?”

I shift in place trying to ignore their stares, “A little.”

“Then we try that too,” Raúl nods, “Let’s start then.”

With that, we begin practicing for the day.

____________________________________________________.

The wind blows my hair out of my face as I stand in the sun. My eyes don’t leave to marble rock in front of me, newly placed onto of the grave of my husband of only a few hours. I stare at the rock for another minute before a tear is released from my eye and flows down to fall into the large field of grass.

“I wish you were here. The bed is too big without you. The house is too cold. And don’t get me started on the company,” I whisper to Léon, “I’m trying my best to pick up where you left off but Johnny is such a snake! Honestly, how didn’t you see how much of a backstabber he is? He’s off speaking with presidential hopefuls and big company CEOs—completley what you’ve always been against! To top it all off he’s been flirting with me, some adopted son you picked out Léon! I’m pretty sure he’s behind all this. His actions speak for him. I can’t get proof yet, but I really hope Eva can have a change of heart so she can help me at the paper. If I have her and Guille on my side, I’m sure I can catch him in the act.

“Eva is angry She thinks this is my fault. I suppose it is, you were killed at our wedding. Guille, well Guille is trying to be strong but I know he’s finding comfort with drinking his sorrows away when he’s not working. As for Valentina—she’s a mess, my love. I’m having the staff keep an eye on her, but I know she’s been sneaking alcohol into her room at night. I really hope she finds a way to get out before I have to call a family meeting on her.”

“I wish you were here,” I whisper with a sob, “We all do.”

As if answered, the wind blows again cooling the hot trail of tears on my cheek. I sigh and hold myself for another moment, thinking about my family and their individual struggles. Suddenly, the sound of guitars strumming catches my attention. I look up to my right and see an elderly couple standing next to each other as a young girl sings over the grave. Her dark hair is pulled up in a bun with a few strands falling over her cheeks allowing me to see how young she is. Perhaps Valentina’s age? Her clothes are worn and faded in color, reminding me of my time in the streets.

I watch as her soft voice carries lovingly through the cemetery and creates a strange peace that otherwise should be filled with a turmoil of the living. The girl finishes the song and allows the sound to bounce around the empty plain before turning to shake hands with the elderly couple. The old man dabs his eyes with a handkerchief and shakes her hand kindly. The older woman smiles as well and hands her a few bills in return for her service. The girl shakes her head but is forced the money into her had by the older woman. I smile as the humble girl goes through the motions of the Holy Cross then bows her head to the elderly’s dead before leaving them be.

I watch curiously as the girl counts the bills and does the Holy Cross again with the money in her hand, a sign of a thankful worker, before putting the money in her front pants pocket. I look down at Léon and remember how kind he was and willing to help me when I was in that young lady’s shoes.

“I suppose this is a sign,” I tell him then look over at the girl, “Hey! Young lady! Come here, please!”

The girl looks up and stares at me for a second before jogging up to me. I let her catch her breath for a second before speaking.

“What are you doing here,” I ask, “They normally don’t let anyone in here, it’s a private cemetery.”

“Oh,” she shrugs, “A friend’s uncle works here, and he told me I could come here to earn some money.”

My eyebrows furrow, “It’s really hot though. Can’t you find something better?”

“I can. I mean I do—have a job,” she sighs, “I play in a mariachi band and get a cut from what we earn, but I need more for the rent of the place I have. I don’t want my mom to work too hard, she’s been through enough this past year. I want to help her, so she won’t worry as much.”

“Past year,” I ask, “What happened?”

The girl sighs, “Well, my dad died during work. We had our house, well trailer, taken away and had to come here. We found a place but the landlord, well, she wants the rent for this whole month by this weekend.”

“What,” I gape, “That’s completely unfair! Most landlords give a week…”

“Yeah she did, originally,” the girl rolls her eyes, “But my mom could only get a job at a bar, so when she found out she gave us until Saturday. Something about being a streetwalker.”

“That’s just three days from now,” I whisper, outrage at this unknown landlord for acting this way to a recent widow.

“Yeah,” the girl nods, looking at her scuffed-up shoes, “That’s why I’m doing whatever I can right now.”

I watch as the girl shifts the guitar strapped over her shoulder from one place to the other. Seeing her up close made it even more clear how young she is. My heart tugged at her sad but determined look. With a sigh, I turn to my guard.

“Can you let home know I have another errand to do and might not get home on time,” I shout to Alirio.

“Yes, ma’am I’ll let them know,” he calls back.

I turn to the girl and pull my hand out for her to shake, “Lucía, and you are?”

The girl blinks back at me then shakes my hand politely, “Juliana.”

I grin and motion for her to follow me, “I have a job you can do for me. I need someone to come shopping with me. I need an honest opinion on what I’m wearing, I know these men won’t have a reliable opinion other than blank staring. You can also help me carry my bags to the car.”

Julian turns to me with wide confused eyes, “I—”

I cut off the girl, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay you for your time. I’m sure it will be more than the amount you’ll get here.”

“Why,” she whispers.

“I know how it feels,” I answer simply, “Now come on, I actually do need help deciding.”

Juliana stares at me for a second then grins, “Thank you, Ms. Lucia. You don’t even know me, but…”

I smile at the girl and pull her by her elbow. The door is opened by my guard and I enter the vehicle with Juliana. The young woman stays quiet as she stares out the window, enjoying the view as we reach the closest boutiques I like to go to. By the time we reach the stores, Juliana is a bit calmer and responds to the few questions I ask her.

The first store is filled with expensive ball gowns, a perfect place to find a dress for my meeting with the Spanish Ambassador in a few weeks. Juliana is in awe as we enter and a saleswoman quickly greets us with an overly bright smile. I let her down gently and once she’s gone I turn to my new companion.

“Alright, what should we start with,” I ask her.

Juliana pauses and looks me over quickly before looking around. I watch as something catches her eye from a nearby rack. The brunette scurries to a rack full of red and maroon dresses and quickly goes through them until she finds what she’s looking for. A bright red dress with a backless design and a long train is presented to me with excited and nervous eyes.

“Try this one,” Juliana mumbles, “I think it will suit you.”

I grin at the timid girl and take the dress with no complaints, leaving her shocked at my silence. I walk towards the dressing rooms and turn around with an encouraging look.

“Perhaps look for other ones,” I encourage her, “I’m always looking for good dresses for events.”

This seems to calm the girl as she smiles back at me and continues to look over the racks. The afternoon goes on like this. From store to store, my new stylist picks out clothes for me to try and I do as she says. By the time dinner time arrives, I have many new bags filled with clothes and accessories. I’m shocked that this little thing of a girl knows how to style clothes in just the right way and to fit my style. I’m sure she has a good future if she pursues a career in fashion. As I tell her this, she blushes brightly and scuffs up her shoe on the concrete paths.

“I’m not joking Juliana,” I pat her arm, “You could be a professional stylist or even a designer.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m more concerned with the food on the table,” she rolls her eyes like the teenager she is, “Maybe someday but not soon.”

I sigh, completely understanding her situation. I could help her but a strong woman like her, like me, would not like handouts. She wants to make things from her own strength, not the strength of others. I look down to her shoes and see that the worn Converse are really in need of replacement. The edges are almost all the way unsealed from the cloth of the shoe. The bottoms are worn out to the point that the grooves are almost gone.

I suppose I could help her with this at least.

“You know, my stepdaughter could use some new shoes,” I glance over at the girl, “I think you might have the same size as her. How about coming to help me find her a new pair before we drop you off at home? What’s your shoe size?”

Juliana stares down at her lap then looks up at me with a reluctant smile, “Oh, I’m a size nine, I don’t know about matching since I have a big foot….but I guess I can help…”

With a grin, I pull her with me to the closest shoe store. We walk through the long shelves of shoes until I find the Converse section and conveniently walk through the section. I watch as Juliana stops walking and stares at a pair with desire in her eyes. The pair was all black except for colorful stars dotting the fabric. The girl then shakes her head and continues on into the shop. I grin and pull out the correct size. With a signal to Alirio to take my credit card and pay for the pair. I grin as he walks back to the car, most likely to hide the pair in Juliana’s guitar case while I make sure the girl is not looking.

Through my show, I manage to find pairs for everyone. Before long I have new pairs of shoes for Valentina, Guille, and Eva along with a few heels for me and the girls. Juliana helps me carry the magnitude of shoes to the clerk and we quickly leave the store after that.

“Thank you, Juliana,” I tell the girl once we’re on our way again, “I really enjoyed your company.”

“I enjoyed it too,” the girl tells me, “You remind me of my mom, easy to talk to.”

“Well she raised a very kind woman,” I tell her, “I really hope things get better for you two.”

Juliana shrugs without looking at me, “So do I. I just hope this job gives me enough money so she won’t worry about the rent.”

“This job,” I start, “Is it in a band that goes to events, gets booked, or is it in a restaurant or…”

“Oh, both,” she nods, “It’s at a restaurant and sometimes we’ll go to parties and such. That’s what Salvador said anyway, I haven’t played once yet. I only just got the outfits today.”

“Wait, you mean you haven’t played anywhere yet,” I ask.

She nods, “Not yet, Friday is my first day. Today I met the band and practiced until an hour before I met you.”

I nod, “Well now I’m interested. You must be very good if they think you’d be ready in two days.”

Juliana turns to me and furrows her eyebrows, “I didn’t think of it like that. I just figured they needed cash too, you know for expenses and such.”

I smile, “I don’t think so. They must have a lot of faith in you after hearing you. I know I liked your singing from what I heard in the cemetery. I want to hear more from you. I’m sure you sound even more lovely with a full band to accompany you.”

Juliana’s tan cheeks turn rosy as she shifts in embarrassment, “Um yeah, thanks.”

“We’re here, Seńorita Lućia,” the driver calls to us from the driver’s seat.

I look out the window and see the humble streets lined with buildings decorated with chipping paint and cracked walls. Juliana sighs and tugs her guitar case over her shoulder. As she begins to open the car door, I take her left hand and squeeze it as a mother would do. This gets her attention and she waits for me to speak.

“Take care of yourself, okay,” I insist, “I know you’re tough but be careful.”

Juliana looks at my hand and then back up, “Okay, I promise.”

I smile and kiss the girl’s cheek, gaining another full-on blush, and tuck into her hand a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Juliana gapes at me and I simply smile back at her. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, the girl leaves the car in a daze and makes her way into the small home. Once outside, she waves at the car and makes quick work of the many locks to get inside. The door closes with a large bang sound.

“Let’s go home,” I tell the driver once Juliana is inside.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497122/chapters/44311702

#amar a muerte #juliantina #valentina carvajal #juliana valde #fanfic

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#Paneltek terracotta products #Togen Building Products #terracotta panel #terracotta facade

[ceramicconcepts]

For just $45.00 Bundled 4 tiles per pricing. ~ 6x6 hand painted tiles, on quarry bisque ~ Unlike cement tiles these tiles can be used in a pool - or any wet installation. ~ These are samples your order will be made upon order ~ May order custom colors. (COLOR MATCHING FEES MAY APPLY DEPENDING ON QUANTITY) ~ We can make field tiles and trims to match ~ MINIMUM 4 PIECES PER ORDER IF THIS IS A SAMPLE FOR A PROJECT LET US KNOW ~ 1 TILE IS 6"X 6" THE 4 ARE EITHER 12"X 12" OR 6"X 24" PLEASE NOTE THESE ARE HANDMADE TILES. ONCE YOUR COLORS ARE APPROVED WE WILL QUOTE FOR TIME-BASED ON QUANTITY. Quarry Tile Base • Indoor and Outdoor Use. • Low Maintenance Quarry Tiles. • Being a highly durable and versatile product, this tile can withstand a large amount of foot traffic, • Because of low shrinkage can be used in freezing temperature to -10 °. • Unlike Mexican tiles - our tiles can be used in pools with gloss or satin glaze.

#KitchenTiles #MoorishTile #HandGlazedTiles #KitchenBacksplash #CeramicTiles #FloorTiles #OutdoorTiles #PoolTiles #StairRisers #BathroomTiles