l.a. restaurants

‘I’ve gone above and beyond for you.’ E.D

Originally posted by thedolangifs

Originally posted by foreveralonelyangel

Requested: Yes

Summary: It’s your and Ethan’s anniversary and he forgot about the plans.

Warnings: Language 

Word Count: 912

Ethan Dolan x Reader

You tapped your foot against the floor, embarrassment was your true friend. You checked your phone; 8:30 p.m.

Ethan was an hour late to your dinner reservations. You decided for your anniversary that you would take him to his favorite restaurant in L.A but by the way it looks, you took yourself. You reminded him this morning, last night, a week ago, and he still let you down. 

“Are you ready to order?” You looked up at the girl, letting out a big sigh.

“I’ll just pay for the drink.” She nodded her head, rubbing your back before she left. 

You were truly embarrassed. She brought back the check and sat down in front of you.

“I’m sorry that he ditched you, it’s happened to me before. It’s not fun. You really don’t have to pay for it, I will.” 

You shook your head and paid for your drink, handing her her tip.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pushing your chair back and leaving. 

You walked out to your car, wiping tears off your cheek. You can’t believe that Ethan forgot, leaving you there looking dumb. You dressed up in  his favorite dress and everything, but he simply forgot. 

The car ride back was filled with your sobs and nothing more. Your cries even muffled out the music in the background. 

You pulled into your apartment complex, leaning your head back onto your seat. You slowly got out, locking your car behind you, pushing your fallen hairs behind your ear. 

You tossed your keys onto the table, unstrapping your heels from your feet, sensation swarming your body. You went to your bedroom, stripping off your dress, throwing on a pair of leggings and Ethan’s hoodie that swarmed your body. You trudged back to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch.

How could he forget? Was swarming your mind like crazy. You’ve reminded him so many times and he still forgot. You shook your head, wiping another tear that had fallen.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, revealing your wonderful boyfriend. 

“Hey baby.” He smiled down at you.

“Hey.” You snapped, earning a confused look from him.

“how have you been?”

“Shitty.” You sat up and cocked your head to the side. 

“Why’s that?”

“Oh you know, because my boyfriend didn’t show up to our fucking dinner reservations that I’ve reminded him about almost everyday for a fucking week!” Your blood was boiling. Since he was here, he was going to get your wrath.

“Oh fuck.” He groaned running his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I’m so sorry y/n. I’ll make up to you, I promise!” 

“No! You can’t make that up! I’ve gone above and beyond for you and you fucking forgot one simply time and you expect me to just forget about it? That’s fucking pathetic Ethan!” 

“Look, it’s not my fault I forgot! You know my youtube channel is important to me!”

“Yes, I know that, but I should also be somewhat important!”

“You are important!”

“It doesn’t seem like it Ethan! Literally all I do is make the plans. Ever since we reached our one year it’s been me doing everything. I clean and pick up your clothes like you’re a fucking four year old, I cook, I make our plans, and I steady support your career even when I get hate constantly for being ugly and for being a bad girlfriend. I feel that you don’t even appreciate what I do for you!  It’s like I’m only doing this for Ethan and Ethan shouldn’t be worrying about me because Ethan’s fucking famous. I’m sorry for being a fucking failure to you! .”

“I do fucking appreciate what you do for me!”

“Then why don’t you ever fucking show it?!”

Ethan went silent, all you could hear was your heartbeat. You rolled your eyes, walking into your room. Ethan was hot on your trail and you know he was about to bless you out but you could fire back quicker.

“Why do you think I don’t give two shits about you? I said I was fucking sorry for forgetting our dinner plans.”

You turned around, slapping him across the face.

“What the hell was that for?!” He yelled, holding his cheek.

“You’re being rude! I sat there for an hour! A fucking hour Ethan! The waitress even told me her life story about her boyfriend not showing up to their dinner reservations. I wore your favorite dress, I done my makeup, I got hot as hell for you and you ditch me for your brother!” 

“It’s fucking Sunday! You know we record our shit on Sundays and edit on mondays! I can’t help that our dinner reservation landed on this day!”

“Do you even know what day it is?” You mumbled crossing your arms.


“No, Ethan. It’s our 3 year anniversary.” Tears were streaming down your face. You can’t believe he forgot. Maybe the fame was finally getting to his head. 

“Oh shit, I fucking forgot.” He paced back an forth, finally sitting down on the bed, tugging at his hair. 

“Yeah you did.” 

Silence fell between you two, it didn’t feel right. Fighting with Ethan ever felt right but you couldn’t help it. 

“Just, just get out.” You murmured. 

“Y/n, please forgive me.” You shook your head and pointed towards the door. 

“Get out.” you whispered the last part, biting on your acrylic nail.

You heard shuffling then saw Ethan’s body pass by. 

“I love you.” You looked up an seen him looking over his right shoulder, his jaw was clenched. 

“I love you.” 

He walked out, slamming the front door behind him, leaving you there to cry more. 

Geoff MacCormack
David Bowie, LA, 1975
Photograph: Sepia Type: Archival Digital Print
This was taken in a Japanese restaurant in L.A. As I remember, David and myself were fairly wired, yet this shot belies this. Although originally taken in black and white, this image has the feel of an early 1940s movie star, hence the sepia finish I settled upon. –Geoff MacCormack


Originally posted by bitchesnh


pairings: father!Dylan O'Brien x reader

warnings: none, just pure fluff. maybe some swearing.

word count: 904

Keep reading

Good morning, gorgeous!

Towel in one hand, water bottle in the other, Shawn leaves the gym of his L.A. mansion and steps into the hallway after his early morning workout.

A delicious smell lingers in the air, coming from the kitchen and he leaves his towel and his sweaty Adidas shirt in the laundry basket in one of the bathrooms. Stepping into the huge kitchen, he lays eyes on his girlfriend, standing at the stove, making pancakes, wearing hot pants and an oversized grey Metallica t-shirt on that hot July morning in the kitchen of their L.A. mansion they have rented out for the summer. He still feels amazed and overwhelmed by his luck. 

He could never have imagined to feel so deeply for someone as he feels for Kate. His love for her was all-consuming and so strong that he couldn’t put it into words. It was inexplicable. His world revolved around her, he would plan his schedules around hers, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible. He couldn’t understand his friends that were breaking up with their girlfriends just because they “got bored” or have been “dating for too long”. 

Losing Kate was actually one of his biggest fears. He sometimes dreamed about her breaking up with him and he would wake up, heart racing in his chest, sweat on his forehead, slowly calming down after seeing her lying next to him, peacefully asleep. 

She hasn’t noticed him yet, as she is humming a random song, while closing the refrigerator and looking for something in the cupboard, standing on her tippy-toes. He glances at her from a distance. Wavy blonde hair, lean, long legs and svelte frame. Her body was so incredibly hot that he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was his. But even more than her body he loved her personality. He loved how classy she was and that she was so kind and honest and the most genuine and humble person he knew, taking his breath away whenever she looked at him with her big blue eyes. 

He loved that they could talk about everything. He loved their hour-long deep conversations and small talk. He loved to make her laugh and her sense of humor. He loved that he knew everything about her and she about him. He knew her favorite dish (French fries and Brazilian picanha), her favorite color (blue), her favorite restaurants in L.A., London and New York (Gracias Madre, Sketch and Cipriani Downtown), her pet peeves (hypocrites) and biggest turn-ons (neck kisses!)
Being in a relationship with her was actually a dream coming true and he has to smile, as she is humming the chorus of Justin Bieber’s “As Long As You Love Me”

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs into Kate’s ear, while wrapping his arms around her waist.
Shawn finds it very sexy how she is looking focused at the pan in her hand, biting her full under lip as she flips the pancake around. But then he finds her sexy doing whatever she does, so that was nothing new.
“Good morning, darling,” she replies with a smile, “are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” he replies, pulling her closer, taking in her scent and kissing her shoulder. “These pancakes smell amazing”
She glances at him. He is shirtless, wearing his Adidas shorts and trainers, looking very attractive with his reddish cheeks and lips, perfect pearly-white teeth and tousled hair.
“Have you been working out?”
“Yup,” he replies. “Early morning workouts are the best”
“You should have woken me up! I would have worked out with you!” she exclaims, pouting at him.
“I didn’t want to wake you up. You were so fast asleep and I thought you should get some rest after that night,” he grins at her and she bites her lip, shaking her head. „I really loved your special treatment last night. Amazing way to congratulate me on my award,“ he goes on, playing with her long blonde hair.
„Yeah, you did let me know that you enjoyed it,“ she smiles at him, caressing his cheek. “I am still so proud of you, baby. Where’s your Grammy, actually?” Kate asks.

“In the living room where I left it last night. It still feels so unreal”
“Yeah, last night was truly magical”
She lets the pancakes fall on a plate, handing them to him: “Voilá!”
“Thanks, wifey,” he winks at her.
She scrunches her nose: “Ugh, don’t call me that”
“But you are wifey material, though, I swear!”
He kisses her gently, pulling her close to him, hands on her hips, putting the plate on the kitchen counter.
“We should eat those before they get cold,” Kate remarks.
“Yeah, just one more kiss,” he whispers and presses his lips on hers.
“As if we haven’t been kissing the whole night,” Kate replies, smiling at him, inbetween soft kisses.
“I just can’t get enough,” he replies, sliding his hands under her grey shirt, making her shudder. He pins her against the kitchen counter, pressing himself against her. He loves how she feels against him and the way she looks up at him, her blue eyes gazing at his brown ones adoringly.

“Shawn,” she pants, as his hands wander down her waist to her hips down to her butt.
“You shouldn’t wear these hot pants around me, baby,” he whispers into her ear, gently kissing her neck. “It drives me crazy”
“And you should put a shirt on”
He raises his eyebrows at her: “Am I bothering you?”
“No! I mean yes um… I mean…,” she rambles, her cheeks turning red. Even though they have been dating for about half a year now, she would still get a little bit nervous around him. Especially when he was shirtless, showing off his broad chest and ripped abs, gym shorts hanging low on his hips, exposing his defined v line. She could feel her body react to him as her nipples harden instantly.

He bites his lip as soon as he notices them under the thin fabric of her shirt as she isn’t wearing a bra underneath.
“Fuck, Kate, you’re too hot,” he pants, grabbing her butt, pressing her against him. „See, that’s what you do to me,“ she can feel his erection against her abdomen and she’s starting to feel hot.
“We really should eat our breakfast, you’ll have to leave for the studio soon,” she gasps.
He sighs: “I know… what are your plans for today?” he asks, as he reluctantly pulls back.
“It’s my day off, I’ll probably just chill by the pool, answering some E Mails,” she replies, as their arousal is slowly fading away.
“Then you’re working anyway! You really should relax, sweetie, you’re always working so hard”
“I wouldn’t call it working when I have a bikini on, laying on a sun bed, though”
“Hmm I like that bikini concept,” he smirks at her.
“I might wear the black one, your favorite, or…,” she bats her eyelashes at him, gently tracing his abs with her fingertips, „no bikini at all“
“Good lord, Kate, you do realize that this is torture, right?” he says under his breath, looking down on her, his hazel eyes turning into a darker shade of brown.
“Then don’t leave! Camila can record her album alone,” Kate says, taking the plate and putting it on the table next to the avocado toasts and the can of orange juice.

„But I promised her! And we’ll have to work a lot on that new album. We’ve just started and we have so many ideas! I’m not going to let her down like that, you know me,“ he replies.
„Okay then, I’ll just chill by the pool all by myself in my tiny black bikini…,“ she shrugs innocently, pouring coffee into her mug.
He shakes his head, grinning at her: „Stop teasing me like that. I’m going to make up for it later,“ he says, licking his lip.
„Uh, someone’s feeling confident, huh?“ Kate replies and takes a bite from her pancake.
He chuckles: „Oh come on, I bet you can’t wait for me to come home to you“
„Hey, you’re not the only thing that’s on my mind, Mr. Cocky“ Okay, that was a lie. He actually was the only thing on her mind but he didn’t have to know that, right?
„There are some casting agents I’ll have to get back to“
He rolls her eyes at her: „Okay, whatever, Miss Victoria’s Secret“
He takes a huge bite of his pancake, making Kate grin at him: „Whoa, slow down. That pancake isn’t going anywhere“
„These are so good!“ he mumbles, sinking his teeth into the soft dough.
„We should order pizza later, what do you think?“
She laughs: „Only you could think about dinner during breakfast! But yeah, I’m down“
„Cool,“ he grins at her, taking a sip of orange juice.
„Pancakes in the morning, pizza in the evening… thank God, I don’t have a photoshoot in my underwear coming up!“ she remarks.
Shawn chuckles and takes another huge bite, finishing his pancake. „Okay, I gotta go take a shower and leave. I’m going to stay late at the studio but I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby,“ he leans over and takes her hand, pressing it against his lips.
„Can’t wait, either,“ she replies smiling.

He gets up, taking one last sip from his orange juice and goes upstairs.

Double Dates Mean Trouble

Date n°1

@drinix requested a Ben Barnes X Reader fic, so here we go! Fingers crossed that I’ve done a good job. (This is officially my first request, I’m sooooooo excited!)

It’s going to be a series, so be ready for the next chapter that’s coming soon!

I hope you like it.

Gif’s not mine.

“I hate you.”

“Y/N, we both know that’s not true. I annoy you at the most.”

“I can’t believe you trapped me into this…”

“Steve says that this friend of his is very charming.”

“If he’s as charming as this colleague of yours that you’ve forced me to meet two weeks ago, I think I’d better run away right now.”

“Bernard is… kind.”

“And twice my age.”

“Age shouldn’t matter.”

“Says the woman who’s happily married to a man who’s one year younger than her.”

“Y/N, stop complaining. And arrange your dress, for Christ’s sake!”

You heaved an infuriated sigh, straightening your dress. Your best friend had dragged you into this restaurant, saying that she needed to talk to you about something. That she and her husband Steve had something to celebrate, so you had to dress up like a ‘real lady’ (her words, definitely not yours) and not wear your usual sweater.  

And that’s how you found yourself trapped into a double date.

Yes, a double date. And as Steve and Leila were married, it wasn’t even really a real double date, because there was already one couple formed around the table.

You wanted to punch your best friend in the face. And of course you wouldn’t do that, because you would never hit a pregnant woman.

The cunning woman had thought about every details.

She had been trying to find yourself a man for months now. She couldn’t understand that you didn’t want a new relationship. You didn’t want to meet a man you could like. The wounds the last man had left as he had broken your heart were not completely healed yet.

But would your best friend listen to you and pity your poor broken heart?

Absolutely. Not.

And here you were, in a very uncomfortable - yet beautiful - black dress in a restaurant in L.A., waiting for an improvised date, when you could be at home in some very comfortable jeans and XXL T-shirt, watching some Netflix show and eating ice cream.

Leila had a talent to spoil your evenings.

You drank some water, still waiting for Steve and his mysterious friend to arrive. You checked your watch. They were late. One bad point for him.

“Steve said that you were going to melt the second you would see him,” Leila told you. “He said he was gorgeous.”

“If he’s so gorgeous, then how come that Steve didn’t become Gay when he first saw him?”

“Very funny. Try not to make bad jokes when he’s here.”

“Have you even met this guy before?”

“No. But I know who he is. And he is not twice your age. And he seems to be perfectly normal, and not a psychopath. God knows that these days it’s not nothing… And I can confirm Steve’s verdict : he’s gorgeous.”

“Did Steve show you a picture of him?”

A mischievous smile appeared on Leila’s face.

Which was never a good sign…

“No, he didn’t,” she answered mysteriously.

“How can you know if he’s good-looking or not then?” you asked.

“Because he’s famous.”


Leila nodded.

“Who is he?” you asked your friend, suddenly curious.

“Oh look at you!” Leila teased you. “You’re all interested now, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, determined not to show to your friend that you were interested… in knowing who was about to arrive, of course.

Nothing more.


No, you were not going to change your mind about all this mess.

“Come on,” you insisted. “Who is he?”

But Leila placed a finger on her lips and shook her head, a devilish smile plastered on her face.

“Then I’ll probably be completely ridiculous when I see him,” you shrugged. “Have you thought about my reaction when I recognize him?”

Leila nodded slowly.

“You may have a point. You’ll look like a moron.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “So…”

She grabbed your arm and shrieked in excitement.

“It’s Ben Barnes!”

Your eyes grew very wide.


You couldn’t believe it. There had to be a mistake somewhere. You couldn’t have a double date with BEN BARNES!



“Ben Barnes?” you breathed.

Leila nodded, completely hysterical by now.

“Steve and some other of his friends have tried to find someone for him for months apparently. But he was away for some… movie or something. And he only came back yesterday.”

“Wait… if Steve is friend with an actor, then why don’t you know him?”

Leila shrugged.

“They just met at work or something. Don’t ask me. Anyway, that’s the guy.”

“Oh my God…”

“I know, honey. I know…”

She tightened her grip on your arm, suddenly deadly serious, and the look in her eyes was a bit scary…

“Y/N, you’d better not fuck that up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Y/N, can you imagine? I could have Ben Barnes for brother-in-law!”

You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, first… We’re best friends, not sisters.”

“That’s the same damn thing.”

You rolled your eyes again.

“And it’s not because he’s a talented actor that I’m going to actually like him.”

She laughed.

“Honey, we’re talking about Ben Barnes. Of course you’re going to like him.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Sorry but… who literally begged me for days to go see the third Narnia movie?”

You pouted.

“I happen to like Narnia, that’s all…”

“Y/N. Trust me. This time, it’s the right one. I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?”

“Yes, here,” she added, pointing at her heart. “Here, in my heart, I can feel it. You two are made for each other.”

You laughed.

“With my luck, he’ll probably be an asshole,” you replied wryly.

“Apparently, he’s very sweet. According to Steve.”

“I’m really beginning to think that Steve should be the one dating this guy…”

“Shut up.”

“If you tell him about Narnia though, I’ll kill you,” you warned your friend.

But she was suddenly frozen on the spot.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh my God… I saw Steve by the window.”

“For Christ’s sake, you’re even more nervous than I am when I am the one who’s supposed to have a date with a perfect stranger.”

“Shhhh! They’re coming. Stand up. Stand up!”

You stood up, laughing at your hysterical friend. Then, you turned towards the door to see them coming and…

You saw him as he approached the table, walking towards you. He was wearing a creamy suit and a black tie and a white shirt and… He caught almost immediately your eyes with his brown, almost black gaze and…

You. Were. Done.

Butterflies in your stomach? That felt more like fireworks.

You were aware of his short black beard, and his perfect dark hair, but all you could look at was his eyes.

Was there even some end to these eyes? They seemed infinitely deep.

You had never believed in love at first sight, not even in crushes. To you, if you ever felt anything for someone, it couldn’t be just by looking at this person.

And yet…

He stopped before you, his chocolate brown eyes still fixed on your own. But he didn’t move nor speak, as if…

As if he was in the same state as you were. Completely oblivious of the rest of the world.

Steve patted his shoulder, as if Steve wanted to bring him back down to earth, and he shook himself.

He offered you his open hand, a smile grazing his lips, blushing slightly.

“Hi,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Ben. Ben Barnes.”

“Hi,” you answered, a stupid grin plastered on your face, shaking his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” you nodded.


He repeated your name one more time, his voice just a whisper.

You were still holding hands, grinning like idiots, standing in the middle of the restaurant.

And you didn’t see it, but Steve and Leila exchanged an excited glance.

Finally, you realized that you had been holding hands for way too long for it to be normal, and so you pulled slightly. He started, and freed your hand from his warm fingers in a hurry, clearly uncomfortable.

You finally sat down, and you were sure that your cheeks had turned crimson by the content smirk Leila gave you.

But when you looked at Ben again, he was blushing as well. And that was the cutest thing in the world.

Had you changed your mind about the evening?


Were you going to kill Leila?

Hell no. You were going to worship her for the rest of your life.

You just hoped he was kind, and not an idiot. You just hoped that because…

Because your heart was beating so fast already, you thought you were about to have a heart attack.

You mentally prepared yourself to tick this list of yours that was always in a corner of your head when you met a man. The list of things you wanted so desperately in a man. The things that would make a man absolutely perfect for you.

You could already tick every single thing that dealt with charisma and beauty.

The waitress already arrived, giving you each a menu, and you started to read the list of dishes in silence.

You couldn’t help but look over the menu towards Ben, and you caught him doing just the same. You both blushed fiercely, before exchanging a shy smile.

You focused on the food again.

But you could feel that he was watching you all along, and it made your smile turn into a grin.

You all passed your orders to the waitress, and finally, the conversations began.

Steve and Leila bragged about Ben and you, and how talented you both were at your jobs and how lovely people you were…

And after twenty minutes of non-stop bragging, you and Ben started to uncontrollably laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Leila asked, stopping as she was about to bring her glass of red wine to her lips.

“You haven’t stopped talking for more than twenty minutes now, you know?” Ben said, still laughing.

“Did we?” Steve asked.

“Yes, you did.”

“Well… of course, none of you is speaking at all.”

“Because it’s absolutely impossible to interrupt you once you’ve started to talk that much,” you replied.

“Alright, lead the conversation then,” Leila challenged you.

You shrugged, before turning towards Ben.

But as you were not speaking in less than three seconds, Leila started to speak again…

Until finally, the conversation was set between her and her husband alone, and Ben and you were finally ignored by the bickering couple.

“These two really talk too much,” you smiled.

“Do you think there’s a switch or something to turn them off?” Ben asked.

You laughed.

“I’ve tried,” you nodded, faking despair. “Years of research.”

“And? Your conclusion?”

“Desperate case. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

“A shame. I still had hoped for this one,” he said, nodding towards Steve.

“She’s having a bad influence on him.”

“Maybe if we ask nicely, the cook could drop something in their plate to make them shut up.”

You laughed again.

“That would be cruel.”

He looked at his watch.

“Forty minutes of non-stop talking… I’d say it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed. Again.

You mentally ticked the boxs for ‘funny’ and 'sense of humour’ in your list.

He smiled at you, his eyes roaming your face, studying your features as he picked up his glass and drank some wine.

You were not sure your heart could survive till the end of the evening. Not if he kept at looking at you like that.

“So… How did you and Leila meet?” he asked you.

“We’re friends since childhood. You know, same school and all.”

He nodded.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” you asked the first question that crossed your mind.

“One. A younger brother, yes,” he nodded.

And then he asked you a question.

And you asked him one.

And for the rest of the meal you just talked to him, completely oblivious of what happened around the two of you.

And you couldn’t remember any date where you had felt so connected to someone.

In fact, you couldn’t remember being ever so connected to someone, even with people you had been in relationship with.

And too soon, you were picking up your coat, and walking towards the door.

He insisted to pay for you. For which you obviously refused, but that was still nice to hear.

He held the door for you to walk out of the restaurant.

And as you thought about his general attitude towards you during the evening, you ticked the box for 'gentleman’ as well.

He called for a cab, and turned towards you.

But before he could tell you anything Leila and Steve had rushed into the car.

“Bye!” they cried as the car started and soon disappeared into the traffic.

You and Ben both laughed.

“That was so much like in When Harry met Sally,” you laughed.

He nodded, grabbing his side as he couldn’t stop laughing either.

“You’re right,” he said. “That was a weird evening.”

“Very weird.”

You both stayed before the restaurant for a few minutes, waiting for a cab.

“My car is not far from here,” Ben offered, as no taxi seemed to be coming your way. “I can give you a ride if you want.”

You nodded.

“That would be very kind, thank you.”

You started to walk down the street. Your pace was slow, and he didn’t seem to be willing to walk faster.

None of you seemed to want this evening to end.

“By the way, you didn’t tell me,” he said, making you look up at him again. “Why did you accept to do this? The double date?”

You laughed.

“I didn’t accept anything,” you replied. “I was lured into this.”


You nodded.

“Leila told me that she and Steve had something to celebrate, and so I had to meet them at this restaurant at 7pm, and I had to wear a dress because it was a special occasion.”

He laughed.

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“Steve blackmailed me.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“He blackmailed you? Why… do you have dark secrets that are not to be revealed?”

He laughed again.

“No, I don’t. And I guess it’s not really blackmail. But I’m supposed to go to an exposition a friend of mine is organizing next week. And… he’s a very sweet guy but… It’s gonna be desperately boring.”

You laughed.

“So the deal was that you came tonight…” you started.

“And in exchange he would come with me to this boring evening, yes,” he nodded.

“So they both trapped us into this mess,” you joked.

You were still laughing when you reached his car. And he opened the door for you to climb in, and he closed it after you were sit.

Gentleman till the end…

You gave him your address and he started to drive, and a comfortable silence settled between the two of you.

It wasn’t a strange or a creepy silence. It wasn’t the kind of silence that settled between strangers. It wasn’t the kind of silence that made you want to leave to make it stop.

It was a warm silence. A welcoming one. One that merely let you know that you didn’t need to speak to the person next to you for this person to understand you.

After a long while, Ben finally spoke, his low and warm voice feeling like honey in your ears.

“Can I make a confession?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” you smiled, looking at him as he drove.

You saw him struggle for words, and despite the darkness of the night, you noticed that his cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Even if Steve and Leila… Lured us into this or blackmailed us into this… I’m happy they did. I’m glad I met you.”

He detached his dark eyes from the road to look at you, and you were sure that he saw you blushing.

But you didn’t care.

“I’m glad I met you too,” you breathed, your voice barely audible above the sound of the car and the busy streets outside.

You exchanged an earnest smile, before he would focus on the road again.

“You…” he stuttered slightly. “You wouldn’t want… to… see me again, by any chance?”

An amused smile appeared on your lips as you watched him struggle for words. Who would have guessed that under his confident expression, he was defensive as well, hesitant?

You ticked the box 'a little shy’ as well.

“I mean…” he went on as you remained silent for a moment. “I thought that maybe we could have a… more normal date. Without having a crazy couple sitting next to us.”

You chuckled, but still didn’t answer.

“I would understand if you didn’t want to though,” he said more seriously. “It’s okay. What happens now is up to you.”

You ticked 'gentle’ and 'kind’ as well…

He looked at you again.

“So? What would you like to do?”

You merely smiled, and pointed at a little house down the street.

“That’s my home over there,” you told him.

He nodded, and parked the car before your little house.

He intensely stared at you, and took your silence for an answer.

“I see,” he breathed, and though he was trying to hide it, you could read in his brown eyes that he was disappointed. “It’s okay. I hope you find someone better one day, then.”

You smiled.

“Do you like Hitchcock’s movies?” you suddenly blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow, before narrowing his eyes at you.

“I… I love Hitchcock’s movies actually,” he answered.

“There’s a little cinema downtown, they play his old movies this weekend. Would you like to go watch one with me?”

He grinned.

“I’d love to,” he nodded.

“Any preference?”

“I’m sure you’ll choose wisely.”

You both grinned.

“Despite our crazy friends,” you said slowly, “I’ve spent a very good evening with you.”

“I’ve spent a lovely evening as well, Y/N.”

You grinned again, and when you spoke, your smile didn’t falter.

“Good night, Ben.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You opened the door and climbed down of the car, before walking to your house. And you knew he was staring at you until you closed the door of your home on you.

That night when you closed your eyes, his grin was the last image glued to your eyelids. And your last thought was that it shouldn’t be legal to have such a beautiful smile.

What you didn’t know was that he thought just the same of you..

Tour Guide (E.D 💖)

Moving day was stressful to say the least. You were all by yourself because you had just moved to L.A. after months of constant pestering and reassuring your parents that you, a 17 year old, could move out to L.A. on you’re own to, presue a dream of being an actress. You had already secured a job here after having them agree to wait until you moved there to start you’re shifts at a comfortable little coffee shop down the road.

You were currently carrying a large and considerably heavy box, to the open elevator doors when you saw single-most attractive human being you had ever seen. He had dark chocolate hair with blond thrown in there for fun, he was built well, the muscles in his arms showing because of the sleeves cut off of his black shirt. He had on light-wash jeans with holes, his eyes were mesmerizing and his jaw could cut. He was a god.

Your POV
Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I realized he was now in the elevator that I was using to transport these stupid boxes to my apartment. He politely held open the closing door of the elevator for me, then turning to me, the mystery man speaks, his voice deep. “Someone as gorgeous as yourself shouldn’t be carrying a big box like that.”

“It’s pretty hard to find strangers to help you when you just move here” I let out a breathy laugh as I shift the box higher on my body to make it more comfortable to carry, just as I do that I feel the weight become lighter as the stranger once again blesses me with his voice “I’ll be the stranger that helps then” he smiles and shows me his pearly whites that could captivate a crowd. “Thank you so much…” I search for the name not yet given to me. “Ethan. I’m Ethan Dolan.” I smile, his name was fitting with how attractive he was. “Well Ethan, I’m Y/N.” After hours of elevator rides and moving boxes, fooling around during breaks and getting to know each other, it was time to say goodnight.

Before Ethan have left he gave me his number and told me he lived on the 5th floor with his twin brother, Grayson. While unpacking my kitchen utensils I received a text from the god himself

Ethan: Hey, I was wondering, since you’re new here, if I could show you around tomorrow?

You: Yeah, of course, I’d love that!

Ethan: Perfect, I’ll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, is 10-ish good?

You: Sounds perfect, btw thank you so much for helping me today, I really appreciate it!

Ethan: No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N, night!

You: Night!

3rd person POV
That morning you had woken up early to make sure you looked extra good for your day out with Ethan. You loosely curled you’re hair, made sure you wore a little more makeup but also didn’t cake it on. You’re outfit was a tight fitting, baby blue crop top with dark wash jeans and classic black converse. You sprayed yourself with perfume and brushed your teeth after chugging you’re coffee so you could at least get through to the coffee you would have at the restaurant that was still unknown to you.

A ping from your phone alerted you that you got a text from Ethan, it said he would be there in 5 minutes to pick you up. You replied with an ‘Okay see ya!’ and quietly scrolled through Instagram until he arrived.

You opened the door to your apartment and greeted Ethan with a ‘Hey’ and a friendly smile that was returned, along with a compliment “You look beautiful.” He stared down in awe at the girl he would be with all day. “Thank you! You look pretty cute yourself!” You felt the redness flood to you’re cheeks, you walked out of your doorway and closed and locked the door behind you.

Your POV
Ethan brought us to a cute restaurant with a patio, you two sat outside, in the beauty of the city. “What will you two be getting today?” A kind, middle aged waitress asked you “Pancakes with coffee please, what about you Y/N?” I look up at the women, “I’ll have the Waffles with fresh fruit please, coffee as well for me.” She nodded and walked back into the restaurant. “So why did you want to come to L.A. babe?” “I want to be an actress, it’s always been my dream, to see myself in movies, entertaining people. I’ve always been one for following my dreams, so practice what you preach I guess.” I smile thinking about how my brother use to video tape me acting out favorite scenes from the cartoons I watched. “How about you, why did you move, what do you want to shoot for career wise?” I look into his beautiful hazel eyes. “I moved here to chase my dream of being an actor, Gray and I both want to pursue acting, we also enjoy entertaining people, that’s why we have YouTube.” He finished explaining just as our food arrived.

After breakfast Ethan showed me his favourite spots around L.A, both stores and restaurants that he endulged in. It was an afternoon that neither of us wanted to come to an end, it was full of laughter and stories. He had a story for every place, he showed me his tattoo parlor that he goes to, his favourite mall, his favourite store in set mall. It was wonderful, peaceful and relaxing. It soon came to an end though, before we knew it we were walking back to my apartment door. “Ethan I had an amazing day, thank you!” I smiled at the beautiful boy in front of me, he smiled down at me and stared into my eyes. “Yeah, I really want to do this again sometime Y/N.” I had somehow conjured up enough courage to lean up and leave a soft peck on his cheek, which cause a soft shade of pink to cascade apon his cheeks. “Goodnight Ethan!” He smile, showing his deep dimples “Goodnight Y/N!”

I shut my door and slide down it, overcome with emotion. I was so happy I met someone like Ethan on my first day here and now on the second day I’m having perfect days like this. They say L.A. is not only beautiful but magical, I believe it now.

Originally posted by thedolangifs

Rihanna Can Do Damn Near Anything With a Wine Glass in Hand
Rihanna, accessorized with a wine glass, worked behind the counter at the Fenty x Puma pop-up shop in L.A. on Tuesday. (Photo: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for PUMA)

Rihanna is a woman of many talents, but — Grammys aside — we are most envious of the way she can multitask with a wine glass in hand.

Fresh off a weekend at Coachella, the “Work” singer, 29, jumped behind the cash wrap at her Fenty x Puma pop-up shop in L.A. on Tuesday. Looking glam in $236,937 worth of diamonds, she scanned shoes, bagged up purchases, greeted fans, and talked to the crowd with a mic — all while holding a wine glass. We’ll raise a glass to all that.

See Rihanna in action:

How does Rihanna work a register? With ???? in hand, like a boss! _ Repost @kevinmazur ・・・ Check out #Rihanna’s #FentyxPuma pop-up store at #MilkStudio. She is working the register for her customers @badgalriri

A post shared by Getty Images Entertainment (@gettyentertainment) on Apr 18, 2017 at 7:10pm PDT

Let’s be clear though: This wasn’t her first time working it with wine. The Barbadian beauty, who seems like the only celebrity who doesn’t have a vino line, often loves to sashay with glass in grip.

Clearly there’s no rule about taking glasses in the pool at RiRi’s pad — not that she seems like someone who adheres to all the rules. Last summer, she sunbathed aboard the world’s largest swan float with (breakable) glass in hand and looked fabulous while doing it.

What floats Rihanna’s boat? Sipping wine and catching sun aboard a swan. (Photo: Rihanna via Instagram)

Naturally, Rihanna can sign autographs for fans without stem meeting coaster. Why tear herself apart from her drink for that long?

Rihanna signed autographs in Poland while holding a glass. (Photo: FameFlynet)

This is how Rihanna exits her NYC apartment on the way to a boxing match. Clearly she didn’t have high expectations about the drink offerings there. (She gets bonus points for matching her lipstick and wine color.)

Rihanna leaving her NYC apartment on the way to Madison Square Garden for the first Roc Nation Boxing event. (Photo: Splash News)

May we say, the glass really completes her loungewear look here in 2015. It really seems as if she’s in her boudoir … only she’s on a city street with bodyguards, pedestrians, and the paparazzi surrounding her. Totally normal — nipples and all — right?

Rihanna steps out for an early morning studio session while wearing pink pajamas and holding a glass of wine. (Photo: PacificCoastNews)

Fancy bags and cool shoes are nice and everything, but it’s pretty obvious that her most trusted accessory is one that is simple and ordinary.

Rihanna takes the party to go, exiting an L.A. restaurant with her drink. (Photo: AKM-GSI)

Though there is nothing simple nor ordinary about Rihanna. And cheers to that.

Read more from Yahoo Celebrity:


moonwasours  asked:

Sterek and online dating

This got long-ish. Oops.


Stiles has never put much stock in online dating. He’s an avid watcher of Catfish, okay? He trusts no one to be who they say they are - particularly people like ‘Derek’, who look like they should be modelling underwear, not working for their sister’s tech company. Nobody that hot could ever initiate contact with Stiles - not unless he’s actually a basement-dwelling fedora-toting psychopath.


  But Derek’s never asked for money - in fact, he’s hinted on more than one occasion that money isn’t an issue at all: he frequently texts Stiles photos of all sorts of fancy foods from various restaurants around L.A., often accompanied by disgruntlement at his sister ditching and leaving Derek to entertain her clients.

  Stiles has to be off his game, because all of the reverse-image searches of Derek’s photographs have just directed straight back to the Facebook page Derek gave him - there are several profiles that look obviously fake, too, under a few different names, but none of them look as legitimate as Derek’s.

  They’ve spoken on the phone, but Stiles isn’t an idiot - for all he knows, Derek could be a seventy year old who just sounds young. The thing that’s ringing alarm bells in his head is any time Stiles has suggested Skype, Derek’s wriggled out of it, and any time they’ve tried to organise meeting up, something’s come up in Derek’s life.

  Stiles wants to believe. Stiles is Fox Mulder and Derek might as well be an alien life form for how badly he wants to believe.

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Imagine Axl Taking You Back on Your First Date

“I’m sorry I can’t take you somewhere nicer.” Axl says, his head hanging down. He’d wanted to take you to a nice restaurant but he was lucky someone had loaned him the money for pizza. You didn’t mind though. As long as you were with him you would go anywhere. 

“I don’t care where we go Axl, I’m just happy to be with you.” Reaching across the table to take his hand. The pizza place was small, only three other people inside, and falling apart. But neither of you seemed to be paying attention to that. 

When the waiter comes Axl orders a cheese pizza and water, letting you get a Coke. You’d known Axl since he first moved to L.A. he’d even stayed with you and a friend for a while. Money wasn’t what attracted you to him; but his sense of humor, the way his smile made you smile, and how big his heart was. Of course he was extremely passionate about everything he did too. When he’d asked you out he’d walked to your house in the rain; at two in the morning. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You look up from his hands, his bright green eyes staring at you, “You just make me feel so, I don’t know, at peace.” A smile touching his lips. 

Your cheeks flushing, “Thank you.” His smile contagious. Watching the way his eyes light up looking at your smile. 

“I know I don’t have much money right now, but I swear if you give me a chance I’ll be great to you. And one day I’ll have money and we can go wherever you want.”

You squeeze his hand, “Axl sweetie, where we are doesn’t matter. If you’re there, I’m there." 

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In the parking lot of a small Los Angeles studio, food stylist Melissa McSorley is re-creating the dish that saved the day for the hero of a recent film. “The Cubano sandwich … was the heart and soul of the movie Chef,” she says.

Over the course of filming Chef, McSorley estimates that she and her team made about 800 Cubanos. Why so many? Jon Favreau, who also directed the film, says, “The trick with food on a set — you have to eat and then you have to eat again, and then you have to eat again for every angle and every take.”

Hollywood Food Stylists Know: You Can’t Film Styrofoam Cake And Eat It, Too

Photo credits: (top left) Merrick Morton/via Open Road Films and Cindy Carpien/NPR 

Because I don't know how many of you actually click the links I post

I’m going to post my whole Troyler fanfic (so far) here and kind of keep doing this periodically. It’ll be under the cut. Second half is smutty. Like straight up smut at the end, so be forewarned. No other warnings really though.

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How to Write a Book With Wong Kar Wai
What it’s like to work with the legendary director on his first book.
By John Powers

by: John Powers, Vogue

Two years ago, I was in Cannes covering the film festival when my phone rang. I was surprised to hear the voice of Wong Kar Wai, whom I hadn’t spoken to since his last visit to Los Angeles in 2013 promoting his film The Grandmaster. He was calling from Hong Kong, he said, and wanted to ask me a question. He was thinking of putting together a book on his career with Rizzoli, but he needed the proper person to write it. Who would I recommend?

Knowing Wong’s gift for indirection, I wondered if he was asking me. Taking the plunge, I offered to do it, and he instantly agreed. “We have known each other,” he said, “a long time.”

This was true. We’d first met at a dinner thrown by Quentin Tarantino to celebrate the distribution of Wong’s 1994 romantic comedy Chungking Express, which did for Hong Kong what the Nouvelle Vague did for Paris. I spent the evening across from Wong, who was then a formidably hip young man who, for some reason, wore sunglasses indoors at night. I didn’t yet realize that these shades were an artistic trademark: When Wong puts them on, he’s on duty as WKW, Director.

We spent most of the dinner joshing, talking movies, and trying to hide our bored amusement at Tarantino’s boundless capacity for Quentining on—yakkety, yak, yak, yak. When the meal ended, Wong said to one of his colleagues, “Doesn’t he,” meaning me, “look just like a white Patrick Tam?”—a well-known Hong Kong director whose work I knew but whose face I didn’t. (For the record, I actually do look a bit like Tam.)

Now, Wong is a man who likes familiarity, and my resemblance to his onetime collaborator somehow made me stand out to him. A few months later at a film festival, I heard a voice call, “Patrick Tam.” Wong and I went off to have a drink, and ever since, we’ve been what I’d describe as friendly acquaintances.

Every couple of years—in Hong Kong or Busan, Beverly Hills or Toronto—we’d go to dinner and spend a few hours chatting about everything from Martin Scorsese to Chinese celebrity gossip to the shockingly early closing hours of L.A. restaurants, which offend Wong’s night-owl sensibilities. Along the way, he began taking off his sunglasses.

If he had a new film, he would always ask what I thought of it, and I’d honestly say what I thought. I vividly remember being in Cannes and naming all the flaws I’d found in his unhappy gay love story Happy Together—the editing was too fast, the style overshadowed the actors, et cetera. I remember, even more vividly, how calm and un-defensive he was listening to my criticisms. What made his equanimity all the more remarkable was that my complaints were utterly misguided. The film won him Best Director at Cannes, and when I saw the film again back in the U.S., I wondered what movie I thought I’d been seeing.

Our distant comradeship went on for 20 years, all of them blessedly unconstrained by the inhibiting, red-eyed presence of a tape recorder. We never did a proper interview, much less anything so large as a book.

But now we were planning a volume, WKW: The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai, that didn’t merely sound dauntingly definitive but had to be done quickly, to boot. Our goal was to finish it in time to release it for the May 4, 2015 opening of the Met’s huge “China: Through the Looking Glass” show, for which Wong was serving as artistic director. This meant we had to race against the clock. This gave us … months.

The clock ticking, I flew to Hong Kong in August 2014 to start interviewing him. I had failed to reckon with one thing: Wong is the Usain Bolt of delay. His films are notorious for their seemingly endless shooting schedules and their constantly postponed release dates. Wong himself freely admits that he finds it hard to get cracking on a project until he feels under the gun. Only then can he truly concentrate; only then will his best self emerge. Until that point, well … We spent my first two days in town hanging around his company, Jet Tone, whose Causeway Bay offices were in the process of being dismantled. Wong’s own office was still pretty much intact, with its library shelves crammed with Chinese and English books of all kinds—he’s a voracious reader—and its huge cupboards fastidiously layered with scripts for projects both made and unmade.

As ever, Wong was excellent company—friendly, solicitous, good-humored. He’s one of those hyper-observant people who has the quality of seeming to be in on some secret that you’d like to know. We’d vaguely discuss what should be in the book, then head up Tung Lo Wan Road for lunch at Classified, a Western restaurant he likes and that offered the good coffee I craved. I’d drink it, fretting that we weren’t getting any actual work done. When I’d suggest we do an interview, he would smile and say, “Later.”

But Wong has his methods, and on the third day, we hopped into a car with his wife, Esther, and he began showing me his world.

We started at Knutsford Terrace in Tsim Sha Tsui on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong. Wong grew up here when it was a bustling melting pot, filled with arrivals from Shanghai (like his parents), movie stars, writers, ladies of the night, tailors, kung fu masters, Indian shopkeepers, and Filipino musicians. These days it’s home to gentrified nightlife, and Wong’s old address, #2, now belongs to an Italian restaurant named Papa Razzi, an unconsciously ironic nod to the world-famous filmmaker who once lived there. Still, for him, it’s a place buzzing with the Fellini-esque memories that have shaped nearly all his films. His eyes light up when he talks about them.

From there, we moved to the Chungking Mansions, the teeming, multistoried, multicultural bazaar immortalized in Chungking Express. Over samosas from a hole-in-the-wall shop, he told me that his father—who is usually described as a sailor—had managed the biggest nightclub in Hong Kong in that very building. And from there he led me across the way to check out the basement café where he’d written most of his early scripts. But to his chagrin, it, like so much of the Hong Kong he loved, was gone—replaced by a cut-rate jewelry outlet.

We wound up having dinner at the Café de Goldfinch, a venerable restaurant stronger on ambience than food, where he shot part of his most beloved film, In the Mood for Love, and later a brilliant scene with Zhang Ziyi in 2046. Wong had hoped to order me one of its specialties: borscht with shark’s fin, a dish that mingled (or is that mangled?) white Russian and Chinese cuisines. To my vast relief, they had run out.

I pulled out my tape recorder, and when Wong again demurred (“later”), I wound up talking to Esther, who’d never done an interview before. Although Wong is famous for his stories of romantic disappointment, he and Esther have been together since they first met selling jeans as teenagers nearly four decades ago. Intensely loyal to her, he worries that, in making his films, he had spent too much time away from both her and their son, Qing, a Berkeley student whose privacy Wong guards so fiercely he won’t do big public events in the Bay Area.

It wasn’t until the night of my last day in Hong Kong that we finally did an interview. He and I sat down over drinks at Juliette’s, a wine bar near his office where he and his cohort like to hang out at the corner table. I asked about his first movie, As Tears Go By, and he began talking about Hong Kong, gangster movies, and working with Chinese superstars like Andy Lau and Maggie Cheung. We went on recording until we were both talked out. Although Wong is as cautious in his life as he is daring in his art, he spoke about things he’d never talked about before. If we’d been doing a magazine article, it would’ve been enough. As it was, we still had 10 movies to talk about, not to mention much of his life. How could we possibly get all this done?

As I flew home to L.A., I was experiencing what I’d long heard about working on one of Wong’s long-gestating films: You spend your time waiting and waiting, dependent on his decisions, wondering if there’s any end in sight.

I returned to Hong Kong in late October, staying at a hotel near Wong’s new offices in Cyberport, a futuristic complex off Telegraph Bay remarkable for its high-tech soullessness and iffy Wi-Fi. This time Wong also heard the ticking clock, and he concentrated splendidly, doing 30 hours of interviews on everything—his childhood, his family’s history in China, the calamitous opening night of his dazzling film Days of Being Wild, when after the screening nobody would talk to him.

Along the way, he had me eat that Cantonese specialty pig lung soup—Wong relishes testing my foodist claims of liking authentic Chinese food—and arranged interviews with his jaunty female producer, Jacky Pang, and his most important collaborator, William Chang Suk-ping, a flat-out genius who does the production design, costumes, and hair and makeup for Wong’s films, as well as editing them.

Flying back home this time, I thought it possible that we would actually make our deadline. This only goes to show how foolish I am. When I called the Jet Tone offices on D-Day, December 10, to learn if Wong and his people had turned in all the finished text, his unofficial “little brother,” Norman Wang, told me that there was a small problem.

Oh, what?

“Kar Wai isn’t sure why he’s doing the book.”

Although I shouldn’t have been surprised, I was flabbergasted.

“Shouldn’t he have thought about that before we started?”

Norman laughed. “Don’t worry. He does this with his films, too. It’s part of how he works.”

There could be no arguing with that—especially when the book was about Wong, not me. Besides, how can you take it personally when a legendary procrastinator is running late on a project that you entered knowing full well that legend? We pushed back the release date indefinitely, and I began to wonder if it might never get done. After all, Wong is a man whose mind is forever teeming with endless possibilities. He re-edited—and rereleased—his martial arts film Ashes of Time more than a decade after its original 1994 release.

As with his films, Wong began tinkering and tinkering with the text of his interview, periodically sending me his latest revisions to make sure they flowed properly. From time to time, I’d restore a juicy tidbit that his Chinese reticence led him to cut and that my crass American garrulity couldn’t imagine losing; sometimes he’d take it out again, telling me that a line I found interesting could cause someone big problems in China.

He was still tinkering six months later, in early May 2015, when we met up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I spent the evening following him and William Chang as they fussed over every last detail of the blockbuster show “China: Through the Looking Glass.” They went around adjusting screen projections ever so slightly, shifting display lighting by an eighth of an inch, micromanaging the decibel levels of the different music in each room. Watching this in action, I understood better how it would have been impossible for Wong to have let our book go out on the original schedule. There’s always room for perfection.

Eventually, Wong did declare himself finished, if not completely satisfied, with WKW: The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai. As Norman had predicted, he even found a satisfactory reason for telling the world things he’d never talked about publicly before: He wanted his son to understand his life and what he’d been up to all those years.

As for me, when I first agreed to work on WKW, a dear friend who admires Wong quipped, “I hope you don’t wind up hating him.” She wasn’t being cynical. She was reminding me that it’s axiomatic that when critics get close to filmmakers, especially major ones, they all too often wind up disillusioned—or worse.

I’m happy to say that didn’t happen. The last time I saw Wong Kar Wai was at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, where he’d come to discuss some American TV and movie projects he’s been working on. With the book in the rearview mirror and the recorder’s red light off, we had a relaxed time. He asked about Scorsese (when was Silence coming out?), I asked about the great actress Zhang Ziyi with whom I’d once gone to the Olympic torch-lighting ceremony in Greece, and we agreed that the next time he was in town we should maybe have dinner in Koreatown. Like Hong Kong, places there stay open until all hours of the morning.

WKW: The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai, by Wong Kar Wai and John Powers, has just been released by Rizzoli.