sweetcheeksschemmenti

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Here is the church Here is the steeple Open the doors And see all the crazy, married people

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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you want to talk abt iconic headlines mama…

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MELISSA SCHEMMENTI IN A PONYTAIL

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Omg you look like Nicola coughlan if that really is you in your pfp and Im awe struck

That is me!!

I’ve not been told that before! Love her though, so thank you! People have told me countless times that I look like Drew Barrymore, but never Nicola 🥹🥹🥹

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︵ ✮⋆˙ 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙪 ރ 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

︵ ✮⋆˙ ᥴꪮꪀꪻꪖ꠸ꪀᦓ : FLUFF, drunk!reader, alcohol usage, softness, hopeless!reader for lilia, lilia being a caretaker and the sweetest lover, physical affections, usage of pet names, touch!starved!reader, drunken confessions that are pretty much well known, cliché and sapphic shit I experienced and cannot get over ︵ ✮⋆˙ ᭙ᥴ : 1k+

quick note : one thought to, “oh, lilia calderu would be the sweetest girlfriend to ever exist with her drunk s/o” wounded up into this and all I can feel and see are hues of oranges, tangerines, soft reds, golds, yellows, sparks and stars while I was on cloud 9 for a few hours — I hope you enjoy !!! <3

─────── .𖥔 ݁˖✮˖ ݁𖥔. ───────

There is a patience to Lilia, a devotion so effortless, so intrinsic, that it feels like an enchantment interweaved into the very fabric of her being. And never is it more evident than in moments like these — when the weight of your intoxication has rooted profoundly between your limbs, rendering you languid and sun dappled-eyed, your voice spilling over in hazy murmurs that make impeccable sense solely to you.

She holds you close, her arm a firm but gentle band around your midsection, guiding you through the soft golden glow of your shared sanctuary. You are all movement at the beginning, all impulse, your hands reaching for items on her shop’s shelves, tugging at the silks of her sleeves, attempting, with slurred determination, to drag her toward something that has suddenly become fascinating in your clouded mind even though you have come across these items thousands of times.

And when she murmurs a soft, "baby, no, come on, let's go to bed', you protest like a child, her name stretched long in its affectionate bits, tone heavy with tipsy impatience. "I need to show you, my love, something, I don’t know where it is yet, but it’s important, it’s—”

You are liquid in her grasp, slipping and flowing, drawn to the world in a way only being drunk allows — every warm lamp, every shimmer of the beaded curtains as you both made your way through them ( or rather, she's come to recognize, she gives into your nonsensical sentences enough for you to become completely engross by uttering them to her that you barely recognize the change of scenery as she drags you away ), every shadowed outline that swayed along the walls, every gleam of silver catching the low light suddenly a wonder worth chasing.

Though Lilia, ever knowing, ever perceptive, keeps you tethered to her, her fingertips pressing insistently into your soft flesh, securing you as you try to wander. She knows your ways, knows you too well; how everything illuminates in new hues when drink lingers on your tongue, how your sly little tendencies take root, your flickering marvel with everything but still, somehow, and mostly, always her.

And oh, how she lovingly indulges you.

She listens, her mouth curving at the edges as you ramble, voice swaying between dreamlike astonishment and tiny complaints, entirely enraptured with her as though she is some celestial thing newly discovered. And to you, even in this state of supple-limbed reverie, she is; otherworldly, ethereal. You cling to her, as if proximity alone might keep her from vanishing, and she laughs, airy and betrayed with a soft snort, something bashful curling beneath the sound when you burrow yourself into her while you sit at the edge of the bed and she's standing in front of you.

“Cruel,” your murmur is thick with drowsy affection. “So cruel of space to keep you away from me like this. Or are you and the concept of space teaming up against me, huh?”

Lilia hums, entertainment whirling her whiskey-hued gaze as she presses a sweet kiss into your hairline. “I am right here, my love.”

But it is simply not enough. Not when her warmth is mere inches from you, not when she moves to ease you into fresh, soft and cozy pajamas and she barely grazes your bare skin with her touch, and the whispers of oxygen between your bodies feels like the greatest injustice within this universe.

You let out a whine, a prolonged sound wholly unguarded for her to come back, and she hushes you with a saccharine croon, guiding your gauche arms into the sleeves of a clean, long sleeve shirt you always claimed was the second-most comfortable feeling in the world besides Lilia herself. Her hands are stable, metallic rings pressing ever so slightly into your heated skin as she works, and every touch is a soothe, a promise that she is not leaving, not ever.

Fingers become greedy and cherishing as they catalog the elegant lines of her features, over the regal slope of her nose, the fine etchings of age that time has worked with grace into her skin, the way the light softens her edges.

You stare at her then, brow furrowed, irises dazed and musky with wetness but gleaming with something unbearably enamored. “You’re so beautiful,” Admiration douses your every whispered syllable, thumbs brushing a path over the swells of her cheeks. “So unfairly beautiful. Pretty. My pretty, pretty Lilia.”

How you then speak something along the lines of how her smile makes you feel like you are dissolving into love itself.

Then Lilia, for all her age, for all her wisdom, stills as your drunken confessions peel back the centuries and for a moment, just a flicker of a second, she looks young again. Not in body, not in form, but in the way her lashes flutter like the edges of a butterfly's wings beneath her eyes, the way her lips parted just vaguely, taken by surprise. The sensation is familiar — this sensibility of being gazed upon as if she were the very reason of someone's existence, but goodness gracious, it never loses its luster. Not with you.

Even drunk you are in love, you are a poet, mapping the delicate silver in her locks with your fingers, each strand conveying a story you so desperately wished to learn by heart. Your words, though unclear, hold such conviction, such dizzying sincerity, that Lilia is left breathless, humbled by the depth of your love.

A quiet guardian of your untamed spirit she is, settling herself onto the mattress and tugging you into her homely embrace before you could try to form the idea in getting up to rove around the room and further.

Baby, doll, my love, darling, angel, sweetheart, sweet girl, honey.

Even pet names in her mother language were aerated against your temple before sealing them with a sweet kiss, lips and endearments skimming across the apple of your cheeks, the curve of your forehead, reaching every corner of your being where love collects like morning dew.

"Behave for momma, darling girl," She is speaking to you in such honey-soaked croons, lilted with firmness that portrays her gentlest, most instinctive protectiveness when you try slipping away from her.

Utterances are tenderly pressed into the flushed skin of your cheekbone as you protest in indignation, too busy letting petulant complaints tumble out of your mouth that you are oblivious of the soft grin she harbored as she chuckled.

Her fingers start grazing the side of your face, the chilled silver of her rings gliding over your fevered skin, soon ascending to brush through the pieces of hair adorning the crown of your forehead. She then tucks you into her bosom, placing her chin at the top of your head with a low 'hush now' exhaled as you try writhing in order to sit up, drowning out your mumbled words from the slumber overcoming you, finding solace in her heartbeat, your arms winding around her in lazy devotion.

︵ ✮⋆˙

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I’d love for y’all to send me your favorite Melissa Schemmenti/LAW or Lilia Calderu/Patti characters fics or photos, edits, anything. I’m aching with grief and just want a little comfort.

Below the line tw: pet loss, pet death

I had to say good night forever to my best friend of 16 years this past Monday. She was my soul dog and I’m physically ill from grief. I’m trying to not let it swallow me, but I’ve never felt a pain like this. My sweet girl. My Stu 💔

[sweetcheeksschemmenti]

Just Right

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: “I’m just sayin’, if a girl came into my house and ate my porridge and slept in my bed, I’m eating her ass” Melissa declared.

You knew what she meant. Of course, you knew what she meant. In this hypothetical scenario, Melissa imagined herself as one of the bears who believed that the appropriate consequence for home invasion and theft was to simply devour the blonde intruder.

But something about hearing Melissa use those particular words to make her point lit a spark in you that quickly evolved into a roaring flame that sent white heat straight to your core.

OR

Melissa Schemmenti told an entire room full of teachers that she would eat a girl's ass. And none of us will ever be the same.

A/N: The people demanded this. And I serve the people. Enjoy! 🍑 (P.S. I had WAY too much fun working on this one. No regrets).

Read it on AO3:

Just Right

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Home Office Chair Mid Back PC Swivel Lumbar Support Adjustable Desk Task Computer Ergonomic Comfortable Mesh Chair with Armrest or patti lupones nose

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“Do you think seahorses write fpreg” and the many other riveting things my friend texts me right before I go to work

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🍎 STATLER & WALDORF BARBARA & MELISSA ↪ ABBOTT ELEMENTARY S03E06: “WILLARD R ABBOTT”

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Thank you, Quinta Brunson, for this amazing Melissa quote

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Please, I beg, can someone gif the moment in AAA ep 2 when Lilia’s magic flashes over her fist? When Agatha is trying to get them to blast her? It’s really subtle and brief but I love the little detail

this part is so hot 😫

(I tried but @end0r4 can definitely do it better)

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After taking a gummy, I did deep dive on Patti LuPone. I’ve discovered we share the same blood type. It will now go on the top of my list when asked to share a fun fact about myself 🫡

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sapphics how we are feeling about this?? (also she can eat mine anytime.

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Patti LuPone in this photo shoot

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i feel like we as a community don’t talk enough about the short lived time patti lupone had twitter.

she was really eating these hoes up