#Ms Foam Forrester

[lizzybeanbutt]

[trips and drops my drawings of the funny cartoon dnd group] @oddysseycast

[d-e-w-p]

idk if this link will work but @lizzybeanbutt Ms Foam's pokesona is a combo of Paras and Tangela Love this funky lil druid

[kentdreaming]

Ribs: A Roy Kent Story

Series: Ribs Pairing: Roy Kent x OC Summary: Natalia Forrest and Roy Kent grew up together, with both growing dealing with child stardom, they grew apart. But now, with Natalia being minority owner of AFC Richmond, will these two find each other again after all these years? A/N: I'm seeing a severe lack of Roy Kent fics across most platforms. I'm serving my boy JUSTICE. -Also I'm madly in love with @peterpparkrr ‘s Roy Kent story Banter, it's so incredibly written and I foam at the mouth for each update! || Series List ||

(i got this gif off of google-- can't find credit!!)

Chapter 1

“Right then,” She said with a satisfied smirk, “I believe everything is squared away.”

The man in front of her, Rupert Mannion, held a smile, something patronizing and sinister lurking beneath, “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear.”

“I’m sorry, but I do believe your fiance is the one who was doing business with me,” The raven haired woman responded, quickly turning to the much younger woman to his right and shaking her hand, “It’s been a pleasure, my darling. Do take care of that precious little girl of yours!”

And with that, the woman slung her bag over her shoulder, and spun around, her curly locks flipping over her shoulder, “Toodles!” she sang as she swayed out of the room.

“I can’t believe I just sold my own share of a football club to Talia fucking Forrest.” 

— One year Prior —

Normally, Natalia wasn’t a nervous person. Rather, she was the type of woman to make others nervous. Yet here she was, clicking her heels across the hard floor of AFC Richmond’s clubhouse, her heart hammering in her chest. Rebecca Welton had sold her some shares of AFC Richmond right after her divorce to royal dickhead, Rupert Manion, making her a minority owner of the club; and as much as Natalia loved football and Rebecca, she was nervous about running into someone in particular. 

Her wavy black hair fluffed out around her face, her thick black sunglasses hiding her green eyes. She glanced around her as she made her way towards Rebecca’s office, the hallways buzzing with excitement and gawking glances as she would pass. God, can this walk take any longer, she thought as she ascended the stairs to Ms. Welton’s office, Finally. With a deep breath, Natalia gripped the handle and walked in, offering a small knock as she opened the door. As she opened the door to her office she was greeted with a seemingly very flustered Rebecca in a plush robe, an always frazzled Higgins, and a face she hadn’t yet seen before. Rebecca stepped to the side and lit up when Natalia entered. “God your tits are amazing,” Natalia blurted, eyes going directly to Rebecca’s chest. The gentlemen both cleared their throats and seemed to look anywhere but her chest. “Right, sorry.” “Talia Forrest,” Natalia introduced, reaching out her sharply manicured hand out to the stranger, “minority owner, semi-successful child star turned rock enthusiast and entrepreneur, pleasure.” “Well hi there, I’m Ted Lasso, fresh face on this side o’ the pond,” the man named Ted greeted, his American accent startled Natalia for a moment. The warmth of his voice melting right into her heart creating a soft comfort to her. “Rebecca, you smuggled an American over here?” Talia laughed, a light jab at the two of them. Rebecca laughed nervously, eyes shifting toward the men and back to Talia. “I’m fucking with you, love,” Natalia soothed, “But I do think it’s high time for you chaps to be off, toodles!” She ushered the men out of the door, closing it behind them.

“So,” Natalia sighed, flopping back into the cushions, arms draping over the back of the couch, “I guess this is what all my money has gone to. This gorgeous office and this wardrobe?”

Rebecca’s cheeks flooded with embarrassed blush fiddling with the rack of terribly expensive gowns. Natalia clicked her tongue and got up from her spot on the couch and walked over to Rebecca. She reached up and held onto Rebecca’s face. “You look at me, you tall, strong, impeccable woman,” Natalia said sternly, “You are fit and worthy, these dresses are bloody well lucky to be hugging that gorgeous body of yours. Now let's find the one, yeah?” Rebecca let out a shaky breath and nodded her head, “Thank you.” She whispered, before shaking it off and standing a bit straighter. “Do you want a drink, love?” Natalia asked, making herself comfortable at the minibar in Rebecca’s office. 

“A glass of wine, please,” Rebecca nodded, holding onto a golden dress. After pouring herself a whiskey, she handed the wine glass over to Rebecca. “That’s a gorgeous gown, but she’s wearing you, love. We can do better than that, yeah?” “God, why is this so difficult?” Rebecca sighed, a soft whine underneath. “Honestly, woman,” Natalia groaned, rolling her head back. “You’re right, I’m sorry– It’s just–” Rebecca rambled, “It’s just that Rupert–” Natalia got up from her spot after slamming her drink, and stomped her way towards the taller blonde woman.

“Rupert is a right slimy cock, Rebecca. It’s about time you knew it,” Talia said forcefully. “You no longer get to let him dictate your life. This is your event, and you deserve to be the goddess that you are.” She began to shift through the dresses on her own. “Here,” Natalia said matter of fact, “This one will blow everyone away, plus it shows off those sexy arms of yours.” 

Rebecca held the gown up to her, admiring the fabric. A sigh of relief and an emptying of a wine glass, and Rebecca seemed to be a whole new woman. A curt nod and she placed the dress in a garment bag. “Right,” Rebecca smiled, “I actually called you here to ask if you would like to be my plus one to the charity gala tonight?” Natalia growled, flinging her head back in exasperation, “Rebecca, you know I don’t–” “Please, Nat,” Rebecca begged, “It’s for the children…” Nat curled an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “Rebecca…” “Nat, this is my first time doing this without Rupert, and I’m just so bloody nervous! Plus, you’ve been a minority owner, it’s about time you show your face around here.” “You know I don’t fuck with the press,” Nat responded firmly, her brows furrowed deep over her eyes. She softened after a moment, “But… I will go to support another incredible woman.” Rebecca’s eyes lit up and she squeezed the smaller woman into a head-popping hug. “Thank you,” Rebecca sighed. “Suppose I need to pick a dress for the night, then,” Natalia quipped while shooting her a pointed look. 

—

Later.

—

Cameras. So many fucking cameras were flashing, Natalia hated it. She stepped out of the car behind Rebecca, leaving her big sunglasses on. Her hair was styled to look even more wild than natural. She wore a forest green off-the-shoulder gown with a slit up the skirt that went all the way up to her hip. Her tattoos and scattering of freckles covered her pale skin. She made her way towards the red carpet, following Rebecca. As she made her way toward the line for photographs, Natalia was shouldered rather hard by another person walking by. “Oi–” “Watch it!” The two voices barked in unison. Green eyes locked with brown. Natalia could have sworn her heart leaped into her throat and then directly plummeted into her lower belly. The man that towered before her, straightened up a little more. His all black suit caused him to look even larger than he was. “Hi, Roy.” 

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Waterfalls and Whirlpools (3)

Erin is pretty sure she’s going nuts, but at least the old school librarian is a peach who will take her mind off of it.

---

Erin’s sleep is fitful and filled with dreams of death and smoke, she isn’t sure from where.  She supposes her nightmares are another manifestation of her anxiety, and she’s concerned about whether she’s managed somehow to alienate the stranger on the other side of that book (or her second personality, but she’s not going to dwell on that possibility any longer than is absolutely necessary).  She’s never been great with social interaction, although somehow she feels as though she’s gotten worse and not better as the years have passed.  

Monday mornings have never been her favorite, even when she isn’t required to get up and head into work on that particular day it’s important to keep some semblance of a schedule.  So rolling out of bed at noon, as would be her preferred way to start the day, was out of the question.  No, instead she’s for whatever reason awake at eight in the morning without any real plans for the day other than “avoid the sun” after getting badly sunburned yesterday being so absorbed in the ‘conversation’ in the journal.

Pointedly ignoring the journal for now though Erin pads barefoot to the kitchen and starts on breakfast.  Still stinging a little from being abandoned mid-conversation, a feeling she’s a little too used to from the normal types of social interaction, she begins on some pancake batter.  Her figure and her therapist would tell you her relationship with food was not necessarily the healthiest.  Growing up, food had always been a source of comfort where there was otherwise a lack of support.  No friends?  Don’t worry, there’s still cake!  That habit persisted into adulthood, where we find her now making pancakes instead of confronting the uncomfortable reality of her most recent meaningful social interaction.  Let’s also ignore that talking through a book was her most recent meaningful social interaction, shall we?

As the griddle starts to heat up and the butter on it foams she pours the batter on in neat circles, humming to herself.  Pancakes used to be a family ritual, and it sends a bittersweet pang through her heart.  It’s warm and comforting to be sure, but she misses her father now more than ever.  A tall and imposing looking man, with a thick beard and heavy brow, but whose blue eyes would sparkle with joy and laughter whenever looking at her or her mother.  With a sigh Erin forces her attention back to the pancakes, finally ready to flip, and finds them perfectly golden brown on the first side.  “Thanks, daddy.”  She mumbles into the air, a soft sad smile on her face. 

It takes a few minutes to produce a tidy stack of pancakes and arrange them, appropriately buttered and stacked, onto a plate.  She takes the plate and silverware, along with a bottle of maple syrup, and sits cross legged in front of her coffee table on the soft carpet of the living room.  The TV is switched on and browsing through her choices she settles on some cartoon reruns and tunes out.  The pancakes are drowned in syrup, and the first perfectly fluffy bite makes her sigh in satisfaction.  By the time they’re gone she feels a little more awake and a little better.  She places the dishes into the sink to wash later, and as she moves to check the journal now that she feels a bit better she’s interrupted by her ringing phone.  The screen lights up with a local contact number and a name that seems familiar to some back portion of her brain.  “Hello?”

“Ah, hello dear!  It’s Catherine Forrester, I was hoping you could join me at the school today so we can begin going over the transition.  Summer school is in session so I thought it would be a good opportunity to get you used to the building before you start going it alone in the fall.”  Erin is pacing back and forth in front of the large window that overlooks the backyard.  

“Of course, Mrs. Forrester.  That sounds great, what time would you like me there?”  Chewing on the side of her thumb she listens to the older woman prattle on about the summer school session for a few minutes until she finally gets to the information Erin needed.

“So if you could come by around noon, while the kids are busy with lunch, that would be easiest I think.”  Erin hums in agreement before answering.

“Yes, of course, that makes total sense.  I’ll be there, I’m very excited to get started.”  Mrs. Forrester chirps back that she’s excited to meet Erin and to drive safely.  The journal is almost completely forgotten as Erin checks the clock only to see that it’s nearly eleven already.  With a groan of annoyance “why couldn’t she have called me just a little earlier…” Erin heads to the bathroom to shower, thankful that the water heater is full.  It only takes a minute for the water to get to a blessedly warm temperature, the bathroom beginning to fill with a light misting of steam, the mirrors slowly fogging up from the bottom.  

Erin showers as quickly as she can, although with the thick red curls on her head it still always takes longer than she’d like.  Once out she runs a towel through her hair and then a comb before pinning it up and out of the way, it’s quicker than trying to dry it.  Pawing through her closet she curses at herself for not doing laundry yet, as that green shirt dress would have been perfect.  Instead she settles for a slightly more structured dress in a pale blue cotton with little white flowers.  She smudges on enough makeup to look professional and put together, while hating that she has to do so in the first place, and by the time she’s out the door with her shoes on she’s left with ten minutes to make the drive. 

The school is situated on a plot of land just outside of the main town, a huge expanse of dedicated sports fields behind the quaint one-floor complex makes up a large portion of the footprint.  The school itself is small, but encompasses k-12.  Considering how small the town itself is the class sizes are tiny, even considering the surrounding small towns bus their kids here.  The parking lot has a smattering of cars in it, and Erin finds a shady patch to pull her car into before easing into park and pulling down the vanity mirror.  

A deep breath, in and out, repeated a few times, helps her feel ready.  “Alright, you know what you’re doing, you’re ready for this.”  Nodding to herself she flips the mirror up and grabs her bag before exiting the car and making the long walk to the front doors of the school.  The library is easy to find with the verbal directions Mrs. Forrester had given, and it’s 11:58 when Erin walks through the library doors. 

“Ah, Ms. Curett, thank you for joining me on such short notice!  Oh you look lovely.”  Erin is greeted with an enthusiastic embrace and a kiss on each cheek from the shorter older woman.  Catherine Forrester is a spry woman of nearly ninety.  At eighty seven you’d have thought she would be at home being doted on by her family, but she loved working too much to give it up.  Now though, she’s feeling her age a little too much.  It was getting harder and harder to chase after the children and keep order, especially when it came to the troublemakers of the school: ie those who would be forced to come back for summer school.  She’s short and slight, with a mane of long white hair she’s left loose hanging down her back.  Her face is wrinkled with laugh lines, the sign of a happy and full life, and her knobby hands are covered in silver rings and bracelets.  She’s dressed in long flowing skirts and blouses and looks like she spent her twenties and thirties as a hippie, and just never gave it up.  

Erin is mesmerized momentarily by the way her bracelets jingle when she walks, and the way the light catches her ice white hair.  Mrs. Forrester is beautiful in a very human way, and the energy she exudes says she wants everyone to feel the same.  It’s comforting for Erin, so she follows the older woman without question and listens to her chatter on happily about the library, the children, the town, her family.  Erin was happy to be a friendly ear, and by the time they’re getting ready to go home she’s learned very little about her duties but everything about her newest friend.  “School starts at nine tomorrow, sweetheart, so why don’t you meet me here at half past eight and we’ll share coffee and some secrets.”  The older woman pats Erin’s arm and gives her a wink, making Erin giggle and rub her slim shoulder. 

“That sounds great, it’s a date.  I’ll bring donuts if you bring that coffee you were telling me about roasting.”  The drive home is happy, and Erin makes a detour to the grocery store in town to pick up ingredients to make her own donuts.  If Mrs. Forrester is going to be roasting and grinding her own coffee, then Erin can make her own donuts.  “I’ve got my starter at home, and if I get up early I can fry them in the morning so they’re fresh…”  The plan is set, sourdough donuts.  Maybe with some cinnamon sugar.  

The dough is fairly quick to come together in the mixer with the dough hook, way too lazy to hand knead a sticky mess like this.  It goes in the fridge and the kitchen gets cleaned and readied ahead of tomorrow.  Dinner is easy leftovers, and it’s nearly nine by the time Erin even considers the journal again, sitting heavily in her desk chair staring down at it.  “I mean, I guess I could take a peek, if there’s nothing there, I’ll put it on my bookshelf and forget about it.”  Nodding to herself she sits before the book again and hesitantly opens it.  

She isn’t sure what she’s expecting.  Part of her is very much hoping that when she opens the journal this will have all been some strange fever dream, and the journal will show nothing but her entries until she maybe dozed off outside.  Considering she hasn’t looked at the book since she put it back into her pack yesterday it’s a real possibility.  She isn’t that lucky though, and when she opens the book to the last used page she’s confronted with a new message that she knows she didn’t write.

Erin doesn’t even notice she’s hyperventilating until she pushes back and tries to stand, going lightheaded and dizzy so quickly she’s forced to sit again.  “Focus on your breath, focus on your breath…”  She’s repeating directions from her therapist, counting in and out to five.  She grounds her feet to the floor, feeling her connection to the house, she focuses on her weight in the chair, the feeling of the fabric, in one two three four five, out one two three four five.  It takes a few minutes, but she opens her eyes and feels a little better.  

“This doesn’t make any sense.”  Erin is singing to herself tunelessly, a habit she picked up from her mother as a child.  “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual actual fuck.”  She pulls her hair down from its updo to run her fingers through her curls, a comforting nervous habit.  She reads and re-reads the conversation from yesterday.  “Okay, logically, either I’m going nuts which isn’t a conclusion I’m willing to reach at the moment, or...or this is some kind of...kind of...new...technology?”  She peters off at the end, voice high pitched and strained.  “Or magic is real, which I think ties back into the whole I’m nuts thing…”  She rests her head heavily against the edge of her desk, sighing gustily into her lap.  “Okay, so, going nuts it is I guess.  I already talk to myself I mean what’s one more thing.”

Erin sits up and rubs at her forehead, looking down at the open page that’s teasing her with possibilities.  “If magic is real, then maybe I’m actually talking to someone from some weird fucking fantasy country?  Should I just...run with this?”  She considers the options, but something inside her tells her not to just shelve the book.  “I guess I’m really going to run with this…”  She knew even as she was having her inner tantrum what the answer was going to be, there’s no way she could ignore this.  Growing up reading fantasy novels allows you to bring some sense of childlike hope and wonder at the world into your adult life. 

“If this is actually happening, then there’s no way I can let this pass me by.”  She nods in resolve and carefully re-reads the conversation on the page with a suspension of disbelief that has allowed her to enjoy many a piece of media.  The soft smile that overcomes her face as she reads the last message is at the mental image of whoever was on the other side falling asleep over the page, an action Erin herself has taken many times when she’s been too engrossed in whatever she was doing to properly go to bed.  

Ash, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, I was called into work on short notice this morning.  If you’d like to talk and learn about my world I would love to teach you, because I would also love to learn about your world.  Your world sounds nothing like mine, bandits especially aren’t a problem where I am.  If you’re willing to teach me about Auren I would love to tell you what I can about the US and the world.  I hope your emergency is easily handled, or at least safely handled.  Good luck, and stay safe. 

She waits a few minutes, staring at the page, but no message appears in return.  “Of course not, even if this is real, which I’m not saying it is but I’m not saying it’s not, but even if it is real there’s so reason whoever’s on the other side is sitting staring at the page waiting for my message.  They have their own things to do.”  She nods to herself and leaves the book open on her desk.  “I’ll come check back before I go to sleep.”  

Erin has every intention of doing just that, but when she falls asleep to an old Disney movie on her worn couch she doesn’t have the chance.  Waking heavily around five in the morning she groans, the imprint of the couch cushions on her cheek stinging as she lifts her head and blearily eyes the bright light of her television.  She paws for the controller to switch it off, and rolls herself off the couch to wander into her bedroom, passing by her desk with the journal on it.  She’s suddenly awake though as her eyes glance over the page to show another message beneath the one she scrawled last night. 

[airworthypilot-blog]

Cabin Pressure Series 1 Inspired Starters

"Can I have coffee without talking to you?"

"You're revoltingly chirpy for half-six in the morning."

"That question is entirely against the spirit of Surprising Rice."

"We’re skilled professionals doing a difficult and dangerous job."

"Don’t fly into anything I wouldn’t fly into."

"It’s always trouble when we’re ‘gentlemen’. I prefer it when we’re ‘imbeciles’."

"Please tell me you’re not still playing Simon Says."

"Why don’t people just blindly obey any more?"

"What are you gonna do? Have me arrested?"

"I’m not crying. Your smoke got in my eyes."

"Well, anything you say five times is obviously true."

"I was not crying. His smoke got in my eyes."

"It means I can now read people – you know, like a book."

"Have you ever read a book?"

"How's he looking?"

"Well, he's covered in foam and he's had a heart attack. Otherwise great."

"I’ll always remember you as... as a shouty man/woman."

"You idiot! You colossal idiot!"

"Well, I say ‘person’; obviously it famously turns out he’s a vampire."

"Is it unprofessional to tell a passenger that you once made a collage of her face out of pasta shapes?"

"There were about thirty of them, all wearing home-made suits of armour and singing a song about a dragon."

"One room, please, for Ms. Jessica Rabbit."

"I don’t like big hotel rooms. Too many drawers."

"No need to panic. I repeat, there is no need to panic. Or to look out of the windows. Everything’s fine."

"Today has been the most fun I have ever had in my life!"

"Are you still going around with that delightful girl/boy with a squint?"

"For a start, you have a ridiculous job and you still live with your mother."

"Anyone care for a shot of nail varnish?"

"After the age of thirty, you just don’t meet anyone new."

"Did you order the motivational seminar by Forrest Gump?"

"No one really likes apples. That would be like liking... wood."

"I cannot tell a lie. What am I saying? I’m terrific at telling lies."

"That’s the beauty of vodka; colourless, odourless. Proof that God loves us... or at least the Russians do."

"I can bloody well fly as well as any... fly."

"It’s a hairdryer. You have to point it steadily. You can’t just zap things dry like it’s a ray gun."

[lizzybeanbutt]

Something resembling a dryad if it was funnelled through a cube trash compactor

aka my 5e DnD Toonkind Druid - Ms Foam Forrester