#top things to do in ny

[techandtravel]

Things to do in Tribeca 2023

Things to do in Tribeca Uncover the Top Things to do in Tribeca and Places to See in the Heart of Downtown NYC Statue of Liberty -Without visiting the famed Statue of Liberty, a journey to New York is not complete. This symbol of freedom and democracy stands tall on Liberty Island in New York Harbor and offers stunning views of the city skyline. Take a ferry to the island and climb to the top…

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[casually-salad]

Blowing up got a flat tire and I have 0 moneys now

Yeagh I drew that in Walmart just now

[the-physicality]

Kori really increased the first line and the MGM lines minutes in the third

yes- the mgm line was moved to first on the pp after the second. what i want is toi by period for all the past games [so i can do average per period]

[for those not in the know one shift is usually 45 seconds to 1:30]

the green highlights per period are toi is above the average for the period

[volfoss]

my #analysis or whatever but its really interesting with how much they cut out of the Jon at the banquet 1x01 scene compared to (at least the leaked version online) the original pilot and book. like not to be like yeah grrm put this much detail in there for a reason but a lot of the detail that they removed really hurts jon as a character and its so jarring to see how much they cut to take the chapter down to about 3 minutes of the episode.

[drysauce]

went on a walk to the nearby park and ngl i think this can fix me

[t-u-i-t-c]

finished only f*iends

[artificial-condition]

Suchhhhhhh a good day

•lovely sunny weather but not too hot

•didn’t have work and don’t have work tomorrow

•took a shower in the morning and had my hair braided right after while still wet

•got bakery goods mmm

•made toffee and chopped some up which was really satisfying

•wore two different comfy cute outfits that I really enjoy and feel myself in

•blasted ridiculous songs on the way back from the bakery and looked ridiculous in a lovely way

•crocheted blanket I’m working on

•DIDNT GET A HEADACHE DIDNT GET A GLINT OF HEADACHE NOT EVEN AN INKLING OF PREHEADACHE

As far as getting things accomplished I didn’t do hardly anything but in the business of enjoying life I excelled today!

[mahamid110]

Could you clarify what you mean by "three USA girl"? Are you referring to a design, an image, a story, or something else? Let me know so I can assist better!

[reasonsforhope]

Given the misinformation that's been going around and will be going around, thought this might be helpful to some people

For a lot of reasons, I'm very good at this/at searching, to the point where I have worked as a professional fact-checker for two different publishers. So, here goes:

My Article Fact-Checking Protocol

Thorough Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

Go to the website's home page and read through the headlines. Look at what topics they cover/prioritize, sensationalist headlines, and whether they're framing anything in a way that feels odd/off to you

Do a search related to the topic. This can be keywords, a question, or even just copy-paste the article title (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo so the results don't change based on what Google thinks they can sell you)

If multiple highly credible sources that say the same thing pop up, and there's no major societal biases that might affect the coverage of the topic in those sources (e.g. anything related to the Israel-Palestine conflict/Palestinian genocide, no matter which side), then I'm done!

If there are major societal biases, or I can't get a consensus of sufficiently credible sources, then I do some combination of:

(1) search the topic again + the words "controversy" and/or "fake"

(2) search the opposite of the topic, or do some sort of other filtered search

(3) look up a sufficiently credible news outlet with the opposite point of view of my source, and see what they have to say

(4) if it's a big enough topic, start by looking up 2 of the top national papers and 1 major paper for your region (I usually do the ones in the US, because that's where I am In the US: the LA Times, the Washington Post, and the NY Times)

Adjust "news" to "relevant type of source, e.g. tech, environmental" as relevant for all of the above options

If no red flags come up, and it's a topic I understand enough to smell huge bullshit,

Then I'm usually done!

If there are red flags, or I actually need a certain amount of detail/understanding, then it gets more complicated, but that would be a whole other thing to break down and such

or

tl;dr

Quick Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true.

If I don't know the website:

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

If I trust the source, but something else pinged my radar:

Do a quick web search to verify anything that sounds suspicious or too good/bad to be true (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo)

[ginalinettiofficial]

i’m gonna be so so real with you tonight tumblr. if this set list doesn’t change a little bit before my show in june i’m gonna be the teensiest bit devastated!!!

[upsy]

anyone else think its fucked up that retail stores have an absolute obsession with getting customers to sign up for their loyalty shit? like to the point that if you dont get enough signups as an employee you’re blocked from promotions & pay raises or even threatened with termination over it in extreme cases. or god forbid there’s a paid membership that employees are forced to try to sell and if goals arent met the overall store’s hours get cut. disgusting model

[the-physicality]

Sorry did I say Boston is going to 3 pride nights? I meant 4

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point. 

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well. 

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size. 

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: Sam has noticed how much you look at Eric, and encourages you to go for what you want because no one knows how much time there is left.

Note: I hope you enjoy this story about my dear sweet wet boy 🥰

Warnings: movie canon violence

Words: 3.6k

What meds do you need?

With a shaky hand, Sam reaches out and takes her notebook and marker from Eric. She hastily scribbles down a few words, her eyes blinking every few seconds as if she’s fighting off sleep.

Her thin arm drops off the side of the bench, weakly offering the notebook back to Eric. You watch his doe eyes scan over the words before he tears the paper out of the book.

Eric nods as he folds up the sheet and slips it into his pocket. He gives you a terse smile that you don’t have the energy to return. Your eyes follow him as he steps through the rubble and debris towards the front door of the church. 

The moment he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the dirty floor, grab Sam’s Bai, and take a seat next to her head on the bench. The struggle to lift her head is apparent so you quickly slide closer so her head can rest on your lap. She gives you a look of thanks before she sips from the bottle.

Once she finishes, Sam gestures to the notebook on the top of her “I heart NY” tote. Luckily, you can reach it without jostling her head too much. 

The marker scratches against the paper as she writes. It takes her a minute longer than it did for her to write out the medication she needs, so you’re curious about what it says as she hands it to you over her head. 

I see how you keep looking at him. You going to say anything or what?

Heat floods your face, and you swear everyone else in the church is able to read the note over your shoulder. Doing your best to shake it off, you write back a quick message before handing the notebook back to Sam.

Not allowed to speak at all.

She reads what you wrote and drops the notebook onto her chest, letting her eyes roll up so she can give you the most unamused glare you’ve ever seen. 

As if Frodo is also unimpressed with your answer, he crawls out from beneath the bench, stretches his front legs out with his tail in the air, then heads towards the door. 

Funny. Pretty sure your eyes have left him all of twice since we left the apartment. 

It had been pure luck seeing Sam and Eric come into the apartment building last night. The distinctly human footsteps walked past the door of your apartment on the fourth floor and your curiosity got the better of you. You’d been held up in your home since the start of whatever kind of invasion this is and the need to see another live human being was too strong to deny. Though this was just last night it feels like another lifetime ago.

This is possibly the end of the world, and you want me to what? Tell Eric I think he’s cute?

You can’t help but see the twisted humor in the fact that you and Sam are sitting in a dilapidated old church, in the middle of what seems to be an alien invasion, and the two of you are writing notes back and forth to one another like high school girls gossiping. 

I’m saying to go for what you want. We could be dead in a minute for all we know. Don’t waste your time.

It’s hard to argue that point with someone you know has limited time left. It’s even harder to argue because you know she’s right. But even though you’re in survival mode now, you’re still you and don’t find things like this easy. Call it insecurity or trauma from high school when the guy you had a massive crush on found out about it and laughed in your face. Things like that don’t just go away—even in the apocalypse.

We’re focusing on staying alive right now, Sam. 

You’re deflecting.

It’s just the truth.

It’s still deflecting. 

What do you want me to say, huh? I’m already scared for my life, I don’t need heartache on top of everything else right now.

Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now. 

Are you shitting me? This isn’t high school. Either tell Eric how you feel or agonize over what could have been. 

Again, trying to survive right now.

So afterwards. On the boat out of here.

Maybe.

If I had the strength to wring your neck, I would. Cancer has fucked up my life but one thing it did do is show me how useless shame is. There’s no time for being embarrassed, it’s just a waste. 

Why do you care so much?

What? You’re not getting my loving and nurturing vibe?

Ha. But really.

You’re both good people who deserve to be happy. If you can find that in each other then I think you should at least try. 

Fine. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

Swear on Frodo.

That’s not fair.

Do it.

Fine, I swear on Frodo.

Sam seems content after that and closes her notebook and rests it on her abdomen. 

It seems somewhat like emotional blackmail when the woman dying of cancer makes you swear on her sweet, adorable service cat. 

The arguing (if you could call it that) has drained some of Sam’s energy and you see her eyes start to flutter closed. But a spark lights in her eyes, and she opens the notebook once more. At first you think she has something else to say to you about the whole crushing on Eric thing, but this sentence is for her.

My dad played beautiful piano.

A bittersweet smile rests on your lips. 

Sam tries to put the notebook back down on her bag, but a wince tells you that the effort is hurting her. Gently, you take the notebook from her and set it down. She nods her head in thanks. 

For the better part of an hour, Sam dozes on and off. It doesn’t seem like a particularly restful sleep she’s getting, but you hope it’s doing something to help her. 

When Eric comes back, Frodo leading him in, he looks exhausted. Not that any of you were in top form these days, but Eric looks even more haggard than when he left. Still cute, though. Unfairly cute.

As he walks towards you and Sam on the bench, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box no bigger than a Polaroid picture. With a slight wince, Eric kneels next to Sam and begins getting the patch out and free from its adhesive. 

Sam tilts herself to the side and you help her turn enough that she can show Eric where to place it. 

Once it’s firmly on her skin and Sam is comfortably on her back again, it only takes a few minutes before the relief is visible. Her body has relaxed, her breathing down to a steady pace, and she looks the most at peace you've ever seen her. It feels like your heart has been run through with a sword when you think about all this poor woman must have gone through. 

“My dad played beautiful piano.”

Eric held Sam’s notebook in his hand, smiling at the few words. You just hope that’s the only page he stays on. He turns his head and meets Sam’s eyes.

“I loved it when he would bring me to watch him play,” Sam says, voice ragged and weak. “Then we’d get pizza at Patsy’s.”

That explains the odd insistence for pizza when the world is ending. 

“What happened to him?” you ask softly.

There are a few moments where Sam doesn’t speak, and you begin to think she’s not going to answer you. 

“He died,” she says. The pain in her watery eyes is palpable. You would want to wrap her up in a hug if she weren’t in so much pain. “Like I am now.”

The sad truth said out loud at last. You haven’t heard either of them say it up to this point. 

“Not before we get pizza,” Eric tells her. 

A small smile ticks up the corners of Sam’s mouth. 

“Not before we get pizza,” she agrees. 

The ship is leaving the port. It’s not too far out so it would be possible for you all to still secure passage on it. But then the dread in your stomach grows as you watch creature after creature step onto the sandy shore. They take great care to stay far enough away from the water, though. 

You, Sam, Eric, and Frodo trudge through the wreckage of cars and building debris scattered along the road. 

The four of you drop behind the carcass of an old van, all of you pressing your backs up against the tarnished metal. 

A shuddering breath comes from next to you and your head whips towards Eric, who is between you and Sam. His eyes tear up and he grits his teeth, trying to ward off the anxiety that’s creeping up.

Sam immediately presses a hand to Eric’s chest and in the lowest whisper possible says, “Breathe.”

You take one of Eric’s hands in your own and give it an encouraging squeeze. Hoping he’ll follow your lead, you take a large breath in, then let it out. It helps a bit, but the anxiety is so strong. How could it not be in the situation you’re all prisoners to?

Your eyes move from Eric to Sam as you watch her nuzzle her face against Frodo and press kisses to his black and white fur. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s saying goodbye to him. Then she hands Frodo to Eric, and it hits you. She was saying goodbye to Frodo. Instinct tells you to fight her on this, but how can you? One, you can’t speak. And two, who are you to tell her not to do this? If it were you, you’d rather go out trying to save the lives of your companions rather than let a vicious disease let you waste and wither away, slowly and painfully as the world ends around you. Sam is thinking that her life is almost up, and she’d rather buy yours and Eric’s lives with the short time she has left.

Sam pushes herself into a crouch as Eric clings to Frodo, holding him close to his chest. You let go of Eric’s hand so he can hold onto the cat better—Lord knows he’s already run away enough times. 

“Run,” Sam whispers. 

Before she takes off, you look her in the eye and nod your head once. Between that and the tears building in your eyes, you hope she sees your acknowledgment of what she’s doing and all the gratitude you can convey to her. 

Sam nods in return, telling you she knows. Then, she’s gone. You see her crouch down behind cars as she makes her way through the lot. She picks up a crowbar and smashes it through a still-intact window of a car.

The smashing glass catches the attention of the creatures, and you know the time to move is now. Looking at one another, both you and Eric take a deep breath before getting up from behind the car. 

Monsters rush past you, leaving you almost no room to dodge them as they race in the direction of the noise Sam is making. It seems like a miracle once the two of you see the dock ahead, no creatures between you and there.

Your sprint turns into a run, Eric keeping pace right beside you as he holds Frodo securely against him. A few steps onto the pier, Eric’s foot kicks a large metal can that skids a few feet away. It clangs as it tumbles, and the monsters hear it. 

There’s no need for you to look back; you know they’re coming. All energy reserves go into your legs as you run faster. The rail around the dock is broken in one place, giving you and Eric the perfect opportunity to jump into the water. 

But they’re getting closer.

You can hear the monsters gaining on you, and a quick glance shows one leaping in the air, aiming to land right on top of you, Eric, and Frodo. But you jump. The flash of yellow beside you brings immense relief as you hit the water—both of you jumped in time. 

As you surface, you look back and see a gang of creatures waiting at the exact spot you and Eric leapt from. Two heads pop up next to you, one human and one cat, both safe. If this were any other circumstance, you would probably chuckle at how Frodo looks all wet. 

Eric gazes back at the land with you and you both see Sam, standing between two dedicated cars.

Shouts come from the ship behind you, encouraging you to swim over to them. Without saying a word to each other though, both you and Eric take the time to look back at Sam. To watch her, this brave woman in every sense of the word. There could never be a way for either of you to thank her enough, but you hope she feels some semblance of it. 

Wide brown eyes meet yours as you turn towards Eric. The two of you bob in the water for a few moments, looking at each other as you attempt to catch your breaths. Now it’s time to get to the boat. It’s time to get to safety.

Once the three of you have made it to the boat, you’re helped on board and assured that you’re safe now. Blankets are brought to wrap around you, Eric, and one for Frodo as well. 

It seems impossible to attempt relaxation after the last few days’ events, but there’s nothing else to do as the ship sails slowly along. Where it’s headed, you don’t know. You don’t particularly care at the moment, either. 

You, Eric, and Frodo make yourself comfortable in a small alcove on deck. It feels like you fall in a heap together, collective exhaustion kicking in. You weren’t even aware of how tired you were until this moment. The adrenaline finally starts to wear off and you lay your head down on Eric’s shoulder. You don’t intend to, but you quickly fall asleep against him.

When you wake, your head is still on Eric. Slowly, you sit up straight and smile when you see Frodo sleeping on Eric’s chest, all curled up in his blanket. Eric’s gaze catches yours and the moment you look into the beautiful brown eyes that make your knees weak, you remember what you promised Sam. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

After everything you’ve been through, you now understand clearer than ever what Sam meant about there being no time for embarrassment. No one knows if the next moment is their last, and do you really want to regret keeping your feelings inside? No. Plus, there was absolutely no way you could break your word to Sam after what she just did for you. 

“Eric,” you start, unsure of how to phrase what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Gathering your nerve, you do. “I want…I have to tell you something.”

“Sure. Anything.”

Another deep breath. Sam’s voice whispers in your head, you can do this.

“I don’t, um, know where we’re going. Or what’s going to happen next. I can’t even begin to think about that, really. B-But I do know that I would like to stay with you for as long as you’ll let me. I like being with you.”

A shy smile grows on Eric’s face, and he nods his head. 

“I like being with you, too,” he says. “I’d love to stick with you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But can I ask you…is it because you think I’m cute?” Eric is trying his hardest not to smirk, but the look of surprise on your face threatens to overtake him.

“I-I…”

“Or well,” Eric says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and holds it between the two of you, “at least that’s what you told Sam.”

Your eyes dart down to the paper, and you recognize your and Sam’s handwriting. A gasp startles out of you as you realize it’s the note you and she passed back and forth in the church.

Eric is full on grinning when you look at his face again. His shoulders shake as he chuckles, and his laugh is infectious. You start giggling yourself and bring your hands up to cover your eyes.

“Oh my God, she ripped it out of the notebook and shoved it in her pocket? She thought I was gonna wimp out!”

Neither of you can stop laughing now. After being so scared and quiet for so long, it just feels so good. 

Eric pulls out another piece of paper and hands it to you.

“She also wrote us this sweet note.”

The letter from Sam makes you smile, cry, and oddly, feel some form of peace. She’s home. 

“Aw, Frodo,” you say as you fold the note back up. “You would be the handsomest boy even if you did get fat. But no, we’re not going to feed you too much.”

Eric chuckles and holds his arm open for you. You gladly accept the invite and curl up against his side. The scent of the salt water, wet cat, and the mustiness from the blankets do nothing to cover the scent that is pure Eric. You rest your forehead against his neck as he wraps his arm snugly around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know,” he says softly as he lays his head against yours, “I came very close to getting you and I killed multiple times.”

“What?” You frown as you reach your hand out to stroke the top of Frodo’s head. “How?”

“Well, when I first saw you, when you stepped out of your apartment, I didn’t say anything. Not only because I couldn’t, but I was speechless. You’re so pretty and I froze. Sam had to push me three or four times to get me to walk again. And then there were so many times I’d just look at you and almost blurt out how beautiful you are. Because your beauty is something that’s impossible to keep quiet about. Then I got to know how kind you are. So compassionate, brave, selfless. Your beauty runs farther than skin deep and it made me even more of a bumbling idiot.”

You can’t help but giggle as you bury your head farther into the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet. 

“But I do have a bone to pick with you,” Eric says.

Reluctantly, you pick your head up to look him in the eye.

“Why?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

He picks the note between you and Sam back up and begins to read a part aloud.

“Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now.”

He lowers the note and shakes his head.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of absolute prats you went to high school with, but anyone who rejected you is, quite literally, insane. And I don’t like this talk about ‘girls like you.’ You make it seem like such a bad thing to be you. But you’re possibly one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I know that after only knowing you for about two days. And it didn’t take me more than four seconds to see how stunning you are. Frodo and I want you to see yourself the way we do. Right, boy?”

Both of you look down at the snoozing cat and you scratch between his ears with a chuckle.

“I’ll work on it,” you say earnestly. 

Frodo tilts his head and you let your hand drop. You lift your head and Eric is so close. It would barely take any movement for his lips to be on yours. So, you make that move. The hand that was petting Frodo comes up to cup Eric’s jaw as you lean in and press your lips against his.

Eric’s body immediately sinks against yours, holding you tighter as he kisses you back with urgency. It’s as if he remembers the two of you have more time now and he can savor this moment as he slows the kiss down, enjoying exploring your mouth at a lazy speed. There’s no rush anymore. You’re safe and both here together. 

When you part, he rests his forehead against yours and you’re pretty sure there are identical grins on both of your faces. 

“I can’t wait to hear your laugh over and over again,” you tell him.

“I can’t wait to hear you say my name,” he replies.

“Eric.” It’s the first time you’ve been able to say it above the lowest of whispers. “Eric, Eric, Eric.”

His grin grows even larger, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“God, I love the sound of that.”

[mrsfancyferrari]

NY Kisses

Summary: LH44 + New Year Kisses

Song: Starboy · The Weekend

Author’s note: Happy New Years! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The bass vibrated through the floor, a steady pulse that mirrored the nervous flutter in your chest. Stepping into the expansive living room, you were immediately engulfed in a cacophony of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

Fairy lights twinkled from every available surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd gathered. You recognized a few faces – some of Lewis’s cousins, a couple of his friends – but mostly, the room was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

You clutched your glass of sparkling cider a little tighter, scanning the room.

And then you saw him.

Lewis.

He stood near the fireplace, leaning against the mantle, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding. He was talking animatedly to a group of people, his head thrown back in laughter, and the sight of him, in that deceptively casual black tank top that highlighted the lean muscles of his arms and shoulders, stole your breath a little.

It was a simple piece of clothing, but on him, it was devastating. Your cheeks warmed, a flush spreading up your neck.

You'd been harboring this crush on Lewis for what felt like forever. He was everything you found attractive: intelligent, funny, kind, and undeniably gorgeous.

And tonight, in this setting, with the promise of a new year hanging in the air, your feelings felt even more heightened, more precarious.

Taking a deep breath, you navigated through the crowd, your eyes drawn back to Lewis every few seconds. A small smile played on his lips as he caught your gaze, and he excused himself from his conversation, making his way towards you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate somewhere deep within you. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice sounding a little breathless even to your own ears. "Thanks for inviting me.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth that made your stomach do a little flip. “Wouldn't have been a party without you,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than you expected. “How are you doing? Need a refill?”

“I’m good,” you managed, hoping your voice didn't betray the nervous flutter in your chest. “And this is fine, thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the quieter corner by the windows. “Let’s get you away from the chaos.”

You followed him, feeling ridiculously pleased that he’d singled you out. The corner offered a view of the snowy landscape outside, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pristine white blanket of snow.

“So, how’s your evening been so far?” he asked, leaning back against the window frame, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“It’s great,” you said, honestly. “It’s a really beautiful house. Your family has done a wonderful job decorating.”

He laughed lightly. “My mom is the one responsible for all of this. She gets a little dramatic when it comes to holiday parties.”

“Well, she’s got excellent taste,” you said, feeling more comfortable now, the initial nervousness starting to fade.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softening. There was a beat of silence, and you found yourself staring at the way the light played on his jawline, the way his dark braids fell across his forehead.

You’d known him for a while, but in this setting, under the soft lights and the buzz of the party, he seemed even more… captivating.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “Any big new year’s resolutions?”

You chuckled. "The usual I guess. Trying to exercise a bit more, maybe read a book each month, be a kinder person."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “All admirable. Me? I’m just hoping this year is a little less chaotic than the last.”

“I hear that,” you replied.

You talked for what felt like a few minutes, conversation flowing easily between you like it always did. It was one of the things you loved about being around Lewis – even when your heart was a tangled mess of nerves, he always had a way of making you feel comfortable.

He asked about your job, your friends, your plans for the coming year, and he listened with genuine interest, his eyes never leaving yours.

As the night progressed, you found yourselves gravitating back to the corner by the windows. The party around you became a warm hum, background noise to the quiet space you had carved out together.

You laughed at his jokes, told him about a funny incident that happened to you earlier in the week, and watched as the minutes ticked by, bringing you closer to the midnight countdown.

The energy in the room began to build, a tangible excitement thrumming through the crowd. People started gathering in front of the television, where a live feed of the ball dropping in Times Square was being projected.

Lewis moved closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne and something else—something inherently him.

Your stomach tightened.

“Almost there,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek, and you could feel every nerve ending in your body prickle to attention.

The countdown began, the television screen flashing numbers in bright, bold font. “Ten… nine… eight…” the crowd chanted along. Your heart beat in your throat, a deafening drum against your ribs.

You risked a glance at Lewis, and found him already looking at you, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Seven… six… five…” The world seemed to narrow, focusing just on his face, the curve of his lips, the way the light made his eyes sparkle.

“Four… three… two…” Your gaze dropped to his lips, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, a yearning so intense it was almost painful.

“One!” The room erupted in cheers, champagne corks popped, and a chorus of "Happy New Year" filled the air. The television screen went dark, replaced by the kaleidoscope of fireworks exploding across the New York skyline.

You turned to Lewis, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. The room was still buzzing, but in that moment, it was like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you.

He leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and all you could hear was the frantic beat of your own heart.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And then, he kissed you.

It was a soft kiss, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But then he deepened it, his lips pressing against yours with a warmth and a tenderness that made your knees go weak. You closed your eyes, your hands instinctively reaching up to cup his face.

It was everything you’d imagined, and so much more. The kiss was a promise, a connection, a silent language spoken between two hearts.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, your forehead touched his. You felt dizzy, like you'd just woken from a dream. You struggled to find the words in a moment so surreal and beautiful.

"That was..." you began, your voice still a little shaky.

He smiled, that gorgeous, heart-stopping smile that always made your breath catch. "It was," he finished for you, his eyes still holding yours, "perfect."

A shy smile stretched across your lips. "Yeah," you whispered. "It really was.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers still lingering on your cheek, and the sound sent a delightful shiver down your spine.

The party raged around you, confetti raining down like colorful snow, but your world was focused on him, on that kiss, and the silent promise of something new, something wonderful, beginning in the first moments of the new year.

"So," you finally said, regaining some of your composure, "does this mean I get a New Year’s kiss every year now?"

His eyes gleamed with mischief and something else that made your heart flutter. “Only if you want one,” he said, his voice husky.

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of the party and the promise of a new beginning, you knew exactly what you wanted. You smiled. “I think I do.”

A year later...

The living room was filled with a comfortable hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Fairy lights strung along the mantelpiece cast a warm glow on the faces of your friends huddled on the sofas and armchairs.

The scent of spiced apple cider hung in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the pine tree standing proudly in the corner. It was New Year’s Eve, and the anticipation of the countdown felt almost palpable.

Lewis, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hang on, babe, I need to get something real quick,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled against your ear.

His eyes, warm with that familiar mischievous glint, met yours for a brief second before he pulled away and headed towards the hallway.

You watched him go, a small smile playing on your lips. He was always doing that – disappearing for a minute only to reappear with some little surprise, some silly thing he thought you’d like.

It was one of the many things you loved about him. Maybe he was grabbing the ridiculous party hat he’d bought that afternoon, the one with plastic champagne bottles bobbing precariously on springs.

The conversation around you ebbed and flowed. You caught snippets of laughter and friendly banter, but your attention kept drifting towards the hallway, waiting for Lewis’s return.

Your friends, noticing your distracted gaze, started teasing you gently.

“Someone’s pining,” Sarah chuckled, nudging you with her elbow. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Leave her alone, she’s just excited for her New Year’s kiss again,” Mark added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You blushed, feeling a bit silly. “I am not! I just… I’m wondering what Lewis is getting.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrayed your true feelings. You were excited for your New Year’s kiss, especially if it was from Lewis.

"He’s probably just getting more beer," David quipped, causing everyone to laugh. You playfully rolled your eyes.

A wave of a low hum filled the air, the TV flashing a countdown timer. It was getting closer. 11:50. You unconsciously started tapping your foot, a nervous energy building within you.

Where was he? You began to feel a tiny pang of disappointment. You wanted to be with him.

“You alright?” It was Emily, her voice soft and concerned. She had seen the brief shift in your expression.

“Yeah, just…wondering when he’ll be back,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light.

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry. He’s probably trying to find the perfect champagne,” she replied with a reassuring smile.

11:55. Your heart was starting to beat a little faster. You could practically feel the collective anticipation in the room. People were adjusting their positions, getting ready to raise their glasses. Where was he?

And then, it happened.

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps. A frantic “Shit!” echoed from the hallway. Then, you saw him.

Lewis burst into the living room, his face a mixture of panic and determination. His braids were slightly disheveled, and he was breathing heavily. He looked as though he had run a marathon. He stopped abruptly just in front of you, his eyes wide.

“I… I lost track of time,” he gasped, his chest heaving. “I was sorting through… through that old box of photos and then I heard the countdown! I didn't realize it was almost midnight.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d been looking at old photos? That was completely unexpected.

“You’ve been gone ages,” you said, your tone a mix of relief and amusement.

He ignored your comment, focusing all his attention on you. His eyes were fixed on yours, the same warm, mischievous glint now replaced with something akin to urgency. It was a look you didn’t often see, and it made your stomach flutter.

"It's not.. it's not midnight yet, is it?" he asked, almost panting.

You glanced at the television screen. 11:59:50. The seconds were ticking down rapidly.

"Almost," you answered, your voice a soft whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to miss it.”

You could hear the muffled sounds of the countdown, the excited murmurings around you. Your heart was practically thudding against your ribs. You looked up at him, your gaze locking with his.

The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only him, his breath warm on your skin.

11:59:55… 11:59:56… 11:59:57…

“You okay?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

He laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Never better," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

11:59:58… 11:59:59…

He leaned in, his gaze intense, and you closed the small gap between you two, your hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Happy New Year,” he breathed against your lips, just as the room erupted in cheers and clinking glasses.

00:00

His lips met yours in a sweet, tender kiss that sent a wave of warmth through your entire body. It was nothing like the stolen pecks you two often shared, or the lingering kisses filled with playful teasing. This felt…different.

It was a kiss that held the weight of our feelings, a silent promise of the year to come. You felt yourself melt into him, completely lost in that shared moment.

The kiss lasted a moment longer than it should have, a moment where it felt as if the rest of the world had faded away. When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, the room was filled with the sound of happy chatter and the pop of champagne corks.

“Happy New Year,” you repeated, your voice soft. Your eyes still hadn't left his.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He ran a hand through his already disheveled braids. "I'm sorry, I got caught up... I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

You chuckled, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “It’s alright. It was worth the wait.” you glanced at the TV, which was now displaying a celebratory message.

"What were you doing, anyway? Looking at old photos?"

He nodded, his cheeks gaining a light pink hue. “Yeah, I found this old box in the attic. There were a bunch of photos from us last year, and I… I just got a bit lost in them, I guess.”

A warmth spread through your chest. He’d been looking at old pictures of you two? Your feelings for him felt even more profound than they had before.

“That’s… that’s lovely,” you said, your voice a soft whisper.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah. I realized that… I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend New Year’s with.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The room around you faded once again, leaving only you and him in this small bubble of intimacy. You felt a surge of happiness so strongly that it almost took your breath away.

"I feel the same way," you admitted, your smile widening.

He leaned in and kissed you again, a quick, playful peck this time. “So, what do you say we ditch this crowd and find a quiet spot to, uh... look at some old photos?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.”

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. As you two walked out of the living room, leaving the celebrating crowd behind, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you.

The New Year had just begun, and you knew that, with Lewis by your side, it was going to be an extraordinary one. The chaos of the near-miss midnight kiss had faded, replaced by a quiet understanding, a shared moment of connection that felt more significant than any grand gesture. It was a perfect start to the year, and it was all you could ever have asked for.

He was all you could ever have asked for. . . .