#corrugated metal fence

[tomwindeknecht]

This blooming ocotillo and corrugated metal fence caught my eye. Joshua Tree, California.

[duffmckaganfc]

Modern Exterior Phoenix Idea for a medium-sized, modern, two-story metal flat roof

[laylaheartphilia]

Deck in Denver Inspiration for a mid-sized industrial backyard deck remodel

[blood-and-hugs]

Industrial Deck in Denver Example of a mid-sized urban backyard deck design

[homespuntheatre]

Flat Roofing Phoenix An illustration of a medium-sized, gray, two-story mixed siding flat roof design

[zenderela]

Deck in Denver

[eopederson]

Stone house with corrugated metal roof and wagon wheel fence, Eureka, Nevada, 2020.

[skrubu]

Implications of Spring 2 by Pekka Nikrus Via Flickr: ➡️ Pools & Puddles

[girlfurniture]

Pathway Landscape Los Angeles Inspiration for a sizable, modern front yard with partial sun concrete paver landscaping in the spring.

[coldpenguintaco]

Building Panels Market to Witness Rapid Expansion with Growing Urbanization

Building panels are prefabricated components used to construct a building’s walls, floors, and roofs. They are made of various materials such as wood, steel, concrete, and masonry. Building panels are lightweight, durable, and easy to transport, making them an appealing option for developers and builders. Building panels are becoming more popular as developers and builders recognize their low…

[daichisamas-icons]

Gravel Front Yard San Diego Photo of a mid-sized contemporary drought-tolerant and full sun front yard gravel vegetable garden landscape.

[sramfact]

The report "Building Panels Market by Type (Concrete Panels, VIP, SIP, Wood Panel), Raw Material (Concrete, Plastic, Metal, Wood, Silica), End Use (Floors & Roofs, Walls, Columns & Beams, Staircase), Application (Residential & Non-Residential) - Forecast to 2021", The building panels market size is projected to grow from USD 170.83 Billion in 2016 to USD 230.93 Billion by 2021, at a CAGR of 6.21% from 2016 to 2021

The global building panels market is driven by factors such as rapid development in the construction technology, modular/precast/prefabricated building systems, and rising demand in the residential and commercial sectors. The market for building panels market is driven by its rising demand for new construction and transportation facilities. The rising population and increasing disposable income of consumers in emerging economies are expected to drive the demand for these industries, which would in turn increase the application of this type of construction components and techniques.

The floors & roofs segment is projected to be the largest market in 2021. The demand for building panels for floors and roofs is expected to experience a higher growth rate, mainly because of the growing demand from the residential and commercial sectors. The Asia-Pacific region is projected to be the fastest-growing market for the floors & roofs segment owing to its increasing emphasis on building construction activities.

[luveline]

Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻

quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k

Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours. 

You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm. 

“Don’t get too hot!” you call. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout. 

“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.” 

Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly. 

“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?” 

“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her. 

Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same. 

Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time. 

The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.

“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze. 

“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy. 

“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.” 

“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.” 

“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says. 

“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes. 

“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.” 

“She was disgusted.” 

“She said we were being weird teenagers.”

“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.” 

“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.” 

“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.

Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.” 

He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?” 

Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?” 

“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.” 

“Right. Isn’t everybody?” 

“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.” 

“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.” 

Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling. 

“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly. 

“I missed my cousin, I think.” 

Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug. 

“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles. 

He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset. 

“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says. 

“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.” 

“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.” 

“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.” 

“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally. 

“Why now?” 

“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.

You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?” 

“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front. 

You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease. 

Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says. 

“Freezing!” 

Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.” 

“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?” 

“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.” 

“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.” 

“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck. 

You push against his hand gently with your cheek. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.” 

“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.” 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

“Nothing. I was just about to get out.” 

“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?” 

“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere. 

Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.” 

You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck. 

“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses. 

“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair. 

“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.” 

“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper. 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.

“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“It’s a good thing.” 

“How dare you.” 

“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead. 

“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge. 

“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”

He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Dirty Girl

Negan x Reader

18+ ONLY / Requests are: OPEN

Summary: Negan fucks you up against a fence.

CW: daddy kink, gags, public sex, p in v, no pronouns but the reader has femme anatomy, use of 'good girl'

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You knew it was wrong. You knew it was, but you also were not the kind of person to get hung up on something if it wasn’t actively hurting someone. And the thrill of having Negan- public enemy number one balls deep in your cunt was too good to pass up. And he knew it too. 

“Yeah, you like that, baby, huh?” The man in question grunted into your ear, each word punctuated with hard thrusts up into the spot that makes you see stars. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to gag you, doll,” he growls, making you clench and another barely contained whimper escape you. 

Negan had you pressed up against the cool corrugated fencing, your hands splayed out in front of you as he bent you over and pressed himself inside you over and over again. Your cheek pressed into the dust on the fence, absolutely smudging across your skin. Knowing how dirty this was, and how your face was now smudged with evidence of your acts sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

“Oh, you’re such a dirty girl, huh?” Negan grunted, wrapping his hand around a fistfull of your hair and yanking you back closer to his face. With your mouth agape from pleasure, it took no effort for Negan to reach around and shove his red bandana into your mouth, laughing as you garbled a response through the fabric. “Oh, such a dirty girl for daddy, baby,” he laughed, releasing your hair with one last tug. 

Your head dropped forward, the muscles in your neck giving out with the pleasure. Negan wrapped his hands around your hips and gripped tight. You were sure they were going to leave bruises by the afternoon, never mind the morning. But you’d love them anyway, deep purple reminders of a good, hard fuck. 

Your fingernails scraped against the metal of the fence, your jaw starting to ache around the bandana. And all the while, Negan continued to growl filth from behind you. How you were the one being the problem was beyond you when he was the one who couldn’t shut up. Not that you wanted him to, of course.

“Not such a Chatty Cathy now, are we?” He asked, squeezing hard on your left him and pounding his cock into you. “No, see? Now you’re being a good girl. Such a good girl for daddy, baby girl.” 

You whimpered around the gag and he chuckled hoarsely.

“Oh, what’s the matter? I just can’t seem to hear you, doll. What do you need, huh?” One of his hands trails down around your hip to lightly press against your clit. “What, you need daddy to rub your pretty little clit, baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut at a particularly rough slide of his hips and he gave your cunt a slap, causing your hips to jerk.

“Uh-uh, I do believe you’re ignoring me, darling. And that- is not on.” 

You look over your shoulder to glare at the man. He knows full well you can’t answer him even if you wanted to. He just liked to torture you, the bastard. You press your ass back against him just to revel in the groan it pulls from him.

“Oh-hoh,” he grins. “Fuck, you are dirty, aren’t you? Taking daddy’s dick from behind like that? Knowing that someone could just come around that corner and see you taking it like such a whore.” He lets go of your hip and lands a hard slap to your ass, causing your head to jerk and you to cry out against the gag. “Fuck, I felt that, baby- do you want someone to catch us? You do, don’t you. Mm, daddy’s learning all sorts of things about you tonight, doll.”

Your arms begin to shake as he gives in and starts rubbing your clit hard and fast. You’re not going to last long, and you both know it. He rubs over the spot on your ass he slapped in a small mercy. You whine, and your hips buck forward towards his hand on your clit and away from the sting.. 

“My, oh my, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you,” he says, gripping the globe of a cheek and sliding two fingers up and down either side of your clit. “So close for me.” A statement of fact, and not a question.

Your head drops forward in a nod, unable to form speech. Not that you could verbalise it anyway. He laughs and plows his hips so hard into you that his balls slap up against his hand. 

“Cum for me,” he orders. “Right now. Cum for daddy, baby.” 

One, two, three more thrusts of his cock into your g-spot is all it takes before you’re cumming around him, walls spasming and knees buckling with the effort of holding yourself up. He laughs, rubbing your clit through your orgasm. You whimper, and your hands slide down the fence. 

He fucks you through it, thrusts turning sloppy now that you’ve reached your orgasm. You know he’s close, and you clench your cunt around him rhythmically to get him there. 

He surges forward and presses you flat up against the fence, arms around your torso to hold you in place. He fucks you hard and fast, hot breath against the back of your ear and groaning into your neck. 

And then he finally cums, biting down into the meat of your shoulder and fingers pinching at your nipples. His hips stutter up into you and you feel his release spurting inside you, filling you up. 

You let out a satisfied groan, wiggling your hips against him to milk him for all he’s worth. He chuckles lowley in your ear and presses a soft kiss to the bite he’s left on your shoulder. 

Once he’s spent, Negan pulls out of you, admiring the way his seed drips out of you with a growled “fuck, baby.” 

You grunt around the gag and he laughs, spinning you around to face him. He presses up against you, running a hand over your clothed tit to give it a squeeze.

“Oh, I'm sorry, darling. How rude of me,” he grins and places a thumb on your lower lip. “Here I am, putting myself back together and you’re standing here a whole mess. Open wide for daddy.” 

You stretch your jaw open just a little wider and he pulls the gag out, grinning when you smack your lips and grimace at the cottony taste.

“Oh, there you go. Okay, baby, lets get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get us some of that damn good lemonade. What do you say?” 

Your lips spread out into a smile, and you agree with him. Negan steps aside and allows you to start back towards the building you called home. He gives one more appreciative grunt at the sight of your ass in that dress, and wraps his arm around your waist, the two of you walking back home. 

And if the guards noticed you had a little bit of a limp, then that was no one else's business but yours. 

[54625]

Honestly I can safely say I understand Fit's vision for the Scrapyard now. It's a little janky, the house itself up on unsturdy stilts and built out of makeshift building materials; the place is full of random "junk", trinkets, trophies, art, plants; at night it's lit up by fireflies; and the bright fairy lights surround the intimidatingly high fences. It's a juxtaposition of shitty and cheap, cute and homely. It's the exact kind of place I see Fit and Ramón living, honestly.

When I de-minecraft it in my mind, the house is built out of corrugated metal and multicoloured clashing bricks, slightly overgrown, and the yard itself is full of tyres and random decorations, thrown out furniture, and metal scraps for Ramón to harvest for his engineering projects. I see the vision 100%

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Isn't this adorable, just made out of salvaged old windows, pieces of fence and a rusty piece of corrugated metal.