#im in my free use hole abuse era

[puppybabykai]

you slowly stretching my pretty hole out. just going slow one finger at a time even though you know i can take more faster and i’m begging you to put more in. i’m begging you to go faster even though you’re not even halfway through your whole hand and i already feel like i’m gonna cum. even after i cum you just keep going fucking me deep deep inside until i’m screaming in overstimulation but i’m also about to cum again

[bowieandqueen11]

im back for more bowie cause you're an amazing writer, love!! headcanons to do with thin white duke era!bowie where he's really starting to doubt himself, talent etc?

Thank you so much for your comments they honestly made me smile so much! Here it is love hope you enjoy!

Following the Isolar tour, to say David was going through a dark time would be an understatement

He’d already had an argument with you before he left, stoned out of his mind, shouting abuse and falling into a black hole of anger he had grown use to

Wandering the streets of LA, with a near empty carton of milk in his hand, his monochrome outfit blended into the darkly-lit streets

Although only wearing a light dress shirt, the shivers he felt in the cold, gloomy night were the familiar shakes of withdrawal and fear

Fear, as his mind screamed messianic delusions at him whilst loneliness overshadowed him with every step, his insomnia starting to blend the edges of fiction and reality

He half-fell, half stumbled onto the edge of the curb, crying softly into his hands as he started to wonder whether he was destroying the career he had tried so hard to build, and whether he was really the man singing anymore, or if he had lost himself to the mythical delusions of the Duke

He truly began to believe he had gone mad when he heard a soft whisper of ‘David’ from the other side of the street

Glancing up quickly, eyes brimming with tears as he meets your shocked but fearful eyes, he stumbled across the street, not caring about the oncoming traffic who cuss his recklessness before grabbing onto your waist, falling onto his knees in both exhaustion, melancholy, and a faint glimmer of hope

The feel of your hand gently pressed against his gel-slick hair is enough to make his lips tremble again

As he presses his head as far into the side of your hip as he can, catching his ghostly reflection in the puddle by your feet, he squeezes his eyes shut and squeezes you so tight you feel you may burst

But the gentleness of you tracing the thin outline of his face and swiping away the tears that escape from his eyes brings him some much needed comfort

You both stay there for a moment before he whispers, ‘I feel like I’m losing my soul y/n, like there’s nothing of me left. I’m just empty.’

You gently tug on his arms, pulling him back up off the pavement, before cupping his cheek gently, looking into his eyes, filled with almost childlike desperation as you state confidently, ‘that’s why I’m here.’

And you swear, for the first time in months, despite both of you standing on the streets of LA shivering in the windy, pelting rain, David gives you the most genuine and hopeful smile you’ve ever seen

Thanks for reading!

[notsimplysusurrus]

Whumptober 2019 Day 1: Shaky Hands

Yes, it’s late, and yes I know that. This is my first time writing just whump. It takes some exposition to get there, so bear with me. I’m also kind of incorporating kinktober into the fold, so this also involves deepthroating for the kinktober prompts.

TW: emotional abuse, physical abuse, and rape

Fandom: Doctor Who

Notes: This is Academy Era stuff that I’ve been thinking about for a while involving Theta Sigma and Koschei’s father Lord Oakdown. May post it on ao3 if I don’t hate it too much.

Theta Sigma couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up where he found himself at present, but he knew that he’d made a terrible mistake. He could have been in a warm place where all his needs were met. After all, Koschei had asked Theta to stay over at one his father’s many, vast estates during their holiday, but Theta declined—as per the usual—not wanting to impose.

So he decided to spend the holiday in his beloved barn. Unfortunately for Theta, however, the winter cold had killed the berry bushes along with all the other edible plants he normally collected from to feed himself during breaks from the Academy. That meant he had to go to the market. He had to steal. 

Being poor meant that Theta had to steal things more than he’d have liked to, but such was his life. Over the years, he had become a thief of admirable skill. He seldom got caught, but when he did, he usually managed to talk his way out of it. Many shopkeepers took pity on him, sending him off with little more than a warning. In fact, some even let him take what he’d set out to steal.

Others were not so kind. They demanded things from him. They hurt him. But Theta didn’t like to think about those times, so he brushed all of those thoughts away.  

The man who apprehended Theta earlier in the day harboured no such feelings of pity for the skinny, raggedy-looking boy. No, this man grabbed Theta by the collar of his robe, dragged him down to his cellar, shoved him over the threshold, and locked him inside. Theta worried the man would call the police. Brax would surely be furious if he had to collect Theta from relevant authorities, and Brax’s anger was quite the sight to behold. 

But worse yet was the thought of possibly being kicked out of the Academy over the ordeal. Theta couldn’t stand the thought of being taken away from Koschei. He wouldn’t let that happen. What did he have to offer the shopkeeper in exchange for keeping this quiet? Huddled in the corner in the mess of fabric that had once been Brax’s robe and was much too big for him, Theta quietly mumbled the incredibly short list of his possessions to himself. 

“There’s the barn--but that’s not technically mine, so that’s no good.” As he went through the list, Theta counted out the items on his fingers. “The bed inside the barn is mine, but I’m sure he’s got a bed.” Theta pursed his lips, trying to think of anything else he had to offer. “My clothes, though too big on me would be too small on him.” Nothing else Theta had was even a little bit valuable. Well, he supposed there was one thing he had left, but the thought of it made him feel sick. Theta wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them close, wondering what in Rassilon’s name he was going to do. 

The sound of the man returning to him interrupted these thoughts. Theta, however, detected two scents, meaning that the man wasn’t alone. Surely the shopkeeper had called the police, and his life was over. Theta could forget about offering this man anything at all. Even so, Theta crossed his legs and sat up straight, setting his trembling hands on his knees so neither the man nor his guest could see just how afraid that he was. 

“This better be worth my time, commoner,” one of the approaching voices sneered. Theta thought that didn’t sound like something a police officer would say at all. As the two stepped into the small circle of light illuminating the cellar from a dirty window above Theta’s head, Theta’s stomach dropped. The shopkeeper hadn’t called the police—but someone much worse: Koschei’s father. 

“That ‘im?” The shopkeeper asked. Lord Oakdown merely smiled, an expression which came across as predatory and terrifying to the small boy below him and tossed the shopkeeper a bag of what must have been money from the sound of its contents clinking together. 

“Leave us,” Lord Oakdown said, shooing the man away. Awestruck by the bag of money, the shopkeeper grinned. 

“Yeah, yeah. Take what time ye need,” the man said and excused himself. Theta’s eyes followed the shopkeeper taking his leave before turning his attention back to the man towering above him. Lord Oakdown’s features were all rather angular in way that would have made him appear handsome under different circumstances. His hair war the same jet black as Koschei’s, but his eyes were a steely grey—nothing at all like Koschei’s electric blue ones. 

“Have you any idea who I am?” Lord Oakdown asked. 

“Y—yes sir,” Theta said, finding it difficult to continue staring up at him but also feeling too afraid to look away. “Koschei’s father.” 

“Good,” Lord Oakdown said. “At least you’re not as stupid as your student records make you out to be.” Theta was unsure whether or not he was expected say thank you in response to this remark, so he said nothing at all. “We’ve yet to have a proper chat, haven’t we Theta...Sigma, is it?” Theta quickly nodded. “Well, consider this our first and last conversation: stay away from my son. Does that make sense? Can you understand as much?” Theta merely blinked, confused as to why they were speaking to one another at all. Lord Oakdown was one of the richest men on the planet, whereas Theta’s parents were disgraced and somewhat poor due to their association with the Outsiders. Theta thought the Outsiders were perfectly nice people, but so-called high society disagreed.

“We’re just friends,” Theta said softly. Lord Oakdown stared down at the boy for a few moments, as if surprised he was capable of speaking in full sentences before bursting into uproarious laughter. 

“As if you could ever be anything more?” Lord Oakdown asked incredulously, attempting to catch his breath. “You’re practically a different species.”

“I don’t see a problem with us being friends.” Theta looked down at his hands. “I’m not as smart as Koschei, and I know that...but he means the world to me.” Not having been looking up at him, Theta was shocked when Lord Oakdown slapped him. He cupped his face where he’d been hit, looking back up at Koschei’s father for fear that he may be hit again. 

“You may claim you’re simply friends, but I was young once, too. Despite your pathetic affection, my son will never end up with the likes of you.” Lord Oakdown smiled down at Theta cruelly. “I mean, look at yourself. You are of low intelligence and class—not to mention...unfortunate lineage. And from what I’ve heard from a select few shopkeepers too level-headed to take pity on you: a dirty whore.” Theta’s hands balled into fists, shaking at his sides. 

“At least I’ve never hit him,” Theta spat in response. “And I won’t stop being his friend or doing anything else that I damn well please with him.” Lord Oakdown remained remarkably calm in the face of these accusations and Theta’s defiance. He cleared his throat.

“It appears my son has been embellishing again,” Lord Oakdown said simply. “As for your insolent behaviour, I’ve only one thing to say.” Lord Oakdown leant down toward Theta—far closer than Theta would have preferred him to be. “I didn’t want to have to hurt you.” 

“Wha—” Theta’s words were interrupted by Lord Oakdown grabbing a handful of his hair and dragging him to his feet. 

“Your shopkeeper friends have told me all about the things you’ve done for them to stay out of trouble.” Theta grabbed at the hand in his hair, but Lord Oakdown’s grip was far too strong. “I asked them to keep an eye out for you. After all, I needed some privacy for our little...chat.” Lord Oakdown released the grip he had on Theta’s hair only to shove him hard enough for him to lose his balance and fall backward. Much to his surprise, Theta landed on something soft. But his feelings of pleasant surprise quickly turned to icy dread when he realised what he was sitting on. “You are a filthy slut, Theta Sigma.” Lord Oakdown joined Theta on the mattress, pushing him down onto his back and pinning his hands above his head. “And this is all you’ll ever be good for.” Oh no, oh no, oh no. It was happening again. It was happening again. Theta pulled against Lord Oakdown’s grasp with all his might, but he barely managed to move his hands a centimetre.

“No!” Theta shouted, choking back tears. This man—this monster—did not deserve the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Though he’d pressed his legs together tight, his wrists were thin enough for Lord Oakdown to hold in one of his hands, allowing the other to be free to spread Theta’s legs.

“If you’d been an obedient slut, I wouldn’t have had to punish you.” Lord Oakdown slipped a finger inside Theta, making him hiss in pain. His thin form trembled, deeply upset by the intrusion. Even if Lord Oakdown were less well-endowed in physical attributes than his riches, Theta knew what was about to happen would hurt terribly. “I’m sure your countenance is simply breathtaking when you cry.” Theta thrashed in Lord Oakdown’s grip, shaking his head. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Theta felt just the tip at his hole for a split second before white-hot pain blinded him to any other feelings. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream, the shock of the pain having taken his breath away. Tears streamed down his face, making him feel all the more ashamed about what was happening to him. Lord Oakdown kissed him straight on the lips, which he was too incapacitated to reciprocate. It took yet another slap to get him even trying to resemble something like kissing his rapist back. And as the assault continued, Lord Oakdown’s thrusts became smoother and more fluid. At first, it appeared to be something worthy of celebration, but Theta realised it was because of how much he was bleeding—not that Lord Oakdown cared. He was lost chasing his orgasm, using Theta like he had little more consciousness than a sex doll. Theta thought that perhaps he was that. This happened often enough for him to believe it just a little bit, anyway.

“P—please...please stop,” Theta croaked, feeling like the whole room was spinning. He forced himself to open his eyes to get a handle on the delirium. But the feeling of his whole body rocking paired with the twisted pleasure on Lord Oakdown’s face made Theta feel like he needed to be sick. Another sloppy kiss made him nearly retch, but he could only imagine what horrible things Lord Oakdown would do to him if he sullied such expensive robes. 

When all the thrusting and the kissing and the raping finally stopped, Theta felt a split second of relief only for the feeling of semen coating his insides to bring another wave of nausea. Lord Oakdown peered down at him a moment before pulling out and dragging Theta by the hair again, only this time to clean his cock. 

“Dare to bite me, and I’ll make you wish you weren’t ever born.” He pulled Theta all the way down on his member, making the boy gag and choke. A few thrusts seemed good enough for Lord Oakdown, as he released Theta—who then retched—and resituated himself. Theta curled up on the mattress, grimacing at both the taste in his mouth and the feeling of the watery mixture of Lord Oakdown’s semen and his own blood dripping onto the mattress. “If I have to teach you the same lesson again, I assure you that you will feel pain much worse than this.” Theta didn’t have it in him to respond. He merely curled into himself more tightly, his whole body trembling. Lord Oakdown stood, tossed a coin at Theta, and left him alone in the shopkeeper’s cellar once again. Receiving money for being assaulted only added insult to injury, and now that he was alone, Theta could cry and not feel ashamed for it.

“I won’t let him keep us apart, Koschei,” Theta whispered to himself, feeling terribly lonely in the suffocating darkness of the damp cellar. “I promise.”

[bartsugsy]

Oh Lo. Please teach me your ways. I mean I'm not even overly negative about everything, but how can you always be so excited./see the positives with each new spoiler/quote? I wish I could lol. Cos seriously, IM's definition of 'fun' and mine appear to be vastly different. This mainly boring scheming Robert plpt continues into next year? We're not getting a reunion til 2018 are we? Lord, they really want to test our patience don't they? Have we not paid are dues yet? haha! Who's exit you think?

do you know what anon, it’s weird, but i was actually thinking about what i would say to someone earlier today, if they asked me how i tend to stay positive???? it’s like our brains just know sometimes lmao - but that’s why you’re about to get a weirdly deep answer instead of what i usually say here

and honestly, i was thinking about this because i was thinking about life in general and how much i believe in the power of positive thinking? and how incredibly well it works? in fandom terms particularly, it’s a life saviour - in life it’s can be a lot more of a struggle to remind yourself but yk we’re not getting that deep we’re just talking about a soap

i get that it sounds like bullshit, but it works for me literally every single time. i’ve found that complaining about things is literally giving voice to negative thoughts and giving voice to negative thoughts is giving power so that they can breed more negative thoughts and before you know it, you’re sinking down this weird self-made hole of sadness - and not only that, but it spreads to other people, because humans are like feelings sponges and we feed off other people’s emotions a lot - it’s hard to be the lone person feeling one way in a room of people feeling the other. it’s like subconscious peer pressure.

but then the opposite - looking at the positives, being as steadfast and determined and strict with yourselves to look at the good sides of everything, is fucking life changing. there are like one thousand and one ted talks on this - like, you wouldn’t believe how many damn ted talks there are. anyway, because i was in this weird mood this morning and reflecting on it, i watched one that used a quote from wayne dyer - “If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”

THIS IS SO EMBARRASINGLY DEEP FOR WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY A CONVERSATION ABOUT FLIPPIN EMMERDALE SPOILERS BUT IT’S TRUE OK 

it’s true. if i look at spoilers andlook for the positives and literally refuse to give voice to the negative, pullmyself back to the positives whenever i do, and beyond that encourage thatpositivity in others through humour or happy thoughts so that maybe it spreads - and if i do it enough times that it becomes natural to me, a natural response to anything and everything, then… well… everything gets a hell of a lot more fun and enjoyable and those things that maybe i once thought were negative and worrying somehow turn into positives. and that’s not me desperately trying to tell myself something is good - it just genuinely does become something that inspires good feelings in me, happiness and excitement and whatever. i can’t really explain how well it works - you have to experience it. but like now? now i literally fucking love that rob and rebecca had a one night stand lmao. like. i love that god damn story beat so much. it’s just about changing the way you look at things - so when i used to look at that scene, all i ever saw was jfc why i don’t actually want this - but after really and honestly thinking about it in every way, by about acknowledging that i can’t change it and then looking at it from every angle, i look at that scene now and i see the show committing to showing just how affect robert is about everything, and also playing out a soap trope in what is literally the most shippy way possible. i see a scene that is, perversely, entirely about robert’s love for aaron and also a scene that gives me a great look at who robert is as a character and the way he reacts in situations. 

it sounds ridiculous? like, it really god damn does, but like… actually, why does it matter if it sounds ridiculous if i’m having fun and hopefully making other people smile occasionally lmao

also, beyond this, i’m also all about accepting the things i cannot change - and the writing of emmerdale? that’s a thing i cannot change. so why fight it? why not just buckle in and enjoy the ride? what the hell else am i gonna do? 

so yeah, anyway, it’s not about paying dues or anything, it’s not about making us suffer for our crimes of loving too much lmaooo  - they’re just…. it’s a soap and they’re telling a story that ultimately has robert and aaron interacting regularly and still being stupidly in love and eventually reuniting properly. so all i can do and all i want to do is find ways to enjoy the journey - and this is true of every storyline ever. 

and the result of me giving as much voice as i can to the things i enjoy and literally just ignoring any thoughts i may have or thoughts other people have about what they don’t because i don’t find them helpful (sorry all other ppl i love you i just gotta do me) - is that what we’ve had so far has been so much fun for me. i enjoy aaron and robert interacting in a - in a way, very abuse era-esque manner, obviously in an entirely different context. like - they both want to be together but they can’t - and now the feelings are there but only tenfold and so their scenes always have that bubbling underneath. a little bit of subtextual love and angst is fun. yes i want them to get back together and make out and cuddle and all that good and lovely jazz but like… that’s not the only way to enjoy their scenes, i don’t think. why would anyone ever rewatch the lighter relationshippy aspects of the abuse storyline if it was?

like - the smitten kitten scene? maxine’s episode where they go to find sandra? rob dealing with aaron leaving to see family in ireland for a bit (#parallel) and literally just trying to get info about how he’s doing out of chas on a daily if not hourly basis? they weren’t together during any of that. so why do they need to be together as a couple to have amazing, wonderful scenes now? why does them being split up automatically mean we’re in for months of no robron at all? because that hasn’t been what i’ve seen so far and from everything that has been said, that isn’t what they seem to have in store for us going forward.

obviously, you know, you gotta do you etc etc but… yeah, this is literally my secret lmao. just… idk. it took me a long af time to learn this and i had to go through a lot of sadness to get there but… idk the idea of being sad about a soap all the time just isn’t something i’m interested in for a way to spend my free time. so i don’t spend it that way. 

basically, what i’m saying is, this isn’t just innately me, irrationally excited about all things ever. it’s something i learnt to do and it changed my god damn life for the better in every damn way.

(i think it does make me a horrible person to try and be salty with when it comes to plot or spoilers though because i will, with all the love and good intentions in the world, probably refuse to let a conversation wallow in that misery and probably change the subject to something happier in order to preserve the hard work i’ve done on myself)

idk idk hopefully this doesn’t sound like a flipping lecture or whatever but this ask just came at a hilariously appropriate time for where my head has been at this morning

[peachcitt]

a shocking chapter 34!! @gigiree @luvclick @megatraven

hello hello! im glad i was able to get this chapter finished in time because after last week’s overload in writing i spent this past week watching crime shows on tv and lounging and not much else. when will i learn to not burn myself out?? when i stop relying on bursts of motivation and inspiration to set the times i write which is basically saying n e v e r 

there is some good stuff though - my parents managed to figure out a way for my super old 2008 era mac laptop to access internet again so i don’t have to leave my cave to post new chapters on sundays. hella. this chapter btw was meant to be sort of light hearted like in the game but like. oops? there are some soft bits because it’s me we’re talking about and i can’t live without soft but still

and yes i had fun with the chapter description.

Read from the beginning/where it’s originally posted here.

Story description: They say that curiosity killed the cat. But it can do a whole lot more than that.

Chapter description: Lights, camera, action! Welcome monsters and my ladies to a very shocking CB broadcast. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

Rated: T (because some things may not be suited for some audiences... intense pain and rage in this chapter, but nothing graphic)

“Oh, great,” Chat groaned softly, leaning towards Marinette. “Chloe may not be all that into fighting, but she is a colossal b-”

“Ready the cameras!” Chloe shouted, her voice shrill. Several cameras and other video equipment buzzed into the room from the hole that Chloe had made in the wall, seemingly on their own. Another small robot, considerably less flashy than Chloe, also buzzed into the room, going straight for Marinette.

She jumped back, pulling Chat with her. The robot seemed undeterred, going for her again and raising what Marinette saw were just makeup brushes and powders only after Chat slammed his baton into it and it was on the ground beside Chloe.

“Chat Noir!” she gasped in horror. “How dare you ruin the makeup machine!” Chat rolled his eyes, twirling his baton and tucking it in the small sling he had at the small of his back.

Chloe sauntered up to Marinette, her metallic heels clicking on the tile floor. Her cold and artificial hands grabbed Marinette’s chin before anyone could even think of swatting her away, and she roughly moved Marinette’s face side to side, seeming to examine her. Marinette didn’t think she should attempt to talk with her face squished as it was.

“Could you back off?” Chat said, providing Marinette with much appreciated back up. Chloe eyed him coldly, and they seemed to have a glare-off before Chloe’s grip on Marinette’s face loosened and she practically shoved Marinette away.

“Relax, kitty-kins,” she lilted, stepping away from the two of them and checking one of the other cameras. “Since somebody destroyed my makeup machine, I had to check that the human’s face was worthy of my cameras. It’ll probably be fine, though I can’t say for sure my cameras won’t break.” The look she gave Marinette was so absolutely icy that it put Stormy to shame. Marinette rubbed her jaw, where she could still feel Chloe’s cold grip, feeling more than a little offended.

Sabrina slowly went to stand by Chloe, her eyes fixed to the floor and multiple limbs starting to turn invisible. Chat glared at her.

“If we’re not going to fight, then we’re leaving,” Marinette said, glaring at Chloe and starting to walk away, motioning for Chat to follow her.

A thick wall of electricity blocked Marinette’s path, making her stop abruptly to avoid getting shocked into the next century. Marinette whipped her head back to Chloe, who smiled sweetly at her. “That’s against the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Action!” Chloe shouted, and the lights went out, plunging the room in darkness until a spotlight burst to life on Chloe, making her metal gleam and blinding Marinette. “Good evening monsters and my ladies,” she said, flashing a bright smile at one of the hovering cameras. “Tonight’s broadcast comes with a surprise guest! It is my pleasure to introduce-“

A spotlight flew around the room until settling on Marinette, whose eyes were feeling very abused at this point. She blinked rapidly, rubbing her eyes and watching her vision clear to see a camera right in her face. She yelped, surprised by the camera and by the cold metallic arm that was now wrapped around her shoulders.

“The human!” Chloe near screeched, her voice pounding on Marinette’s eardrums now that she was so unbearably close. “Tell me, human, what is your name?” she asked, looking to Marinette and holding up her hand – which was now a microphone – to Marinette’s face.

“My name is M-”

“What an interesting name!” Chloe exclaimed, throwing the microphone out of camera shot and whirling away from Marinette to stand in front of her again. “Now that all of the guests have been introduced-”

“Sabrina and I are here, too,” Chat said loudly from the darkness beside Marinette.

“No one cares!” Chloe said brightly. Spotlights fell on them anyway. Chat looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and Sabrina was almost entirely invisible. “Now then, let us begin with a game show” – she paused, leaning into the camera nearest to her – “of death!”

“Great,” Marinette grumbled.

“If it’s regular trivia, I can help out,” Chat whispered, taking Marinette’s hand and squeezing lightly.

“Helping the human is against the rules!” Chloe said, pointing her long metallic finger to Chat and sending several robots to him. They grabbed him and pulled him away from Marinette. He kicked and hit at them, but they were metal so all that did was hurt him.

“Chloe,” he growled, his lip curling up threateningly. Marinette shivered, but all Chloe did was look away, gesturing to the robots. They plastered what looked like duck tape over Chat’s mouth, and he shouted against it, struggling against the robots holding him back. But he couldn’t get free.

Marinette started to run to him, but Chloe extended her arm and caught her, pulling her close to her side. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said lowly, the same horrible smile on her metal lips as a cage of electricity erupted around Chat and the robots restraining him.

“Let him go,” Marinette demanded, shoving herself away from Chloe, who let her go easily as Marinette stumbled away.

“If you win the game,” Chloe said, and Marinette really felt like slapping that smile off her face. She looked over at Sabrina, but she was just a pair of glasses floating in mid air.

“Fine,” Marinette relented, and her SOUL emerged from her chest. She looked over at Chat, whose body had gone rigid. His eyes were trained on Marinette, and she nodded to him. He closed his eyes, letting his head sag for a moment before he seemed to resolve himself and look up again.

“First question!” Chloe exclaimed, either not noticing the heavy feeling in the room or just not bothering to care. “What is your prize for answering a question right?”

Four answer choices appeared in the air in front of Marinette, as well as a small timer that was ticking away the seconds. Suspenseful game show music had started to play.

The answer choices read:

A – Survival

B – Chat Noir being let go

C – More questions

D – Puppies!

Marinette eyed the choices, noticing that the timer was starting to get under fifteen seconds. She looked up at Chloe in defiance and slammed her hand into answer choice B.

There was a beat of silence in which Chloe smiled wickedly. And then – “I’m sorry, but that is incorrect.”

The next few seconds were filled with agony as it felt like all of Marinette’s cells in her body were jolted awake and burned multiple times over originating from her chest, where her SOUL normally came out of. She heard an almost animal-like screech, and when she fell to the floor, her body throbbing and her throat dry, she realized it had been her.

“Screaming is against the rules,” she heard someone say, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to unscramble her brain. “Crying is, too.” The voice sounded very far away, completely drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

It seemed like a long time before Marinette finally stood up on shaking feet, colors and sounds finally seeming to make sense to her. Her SOUL was shivering in front of her, and it looked very fragile. She looked over at Sabrina, blinking until her eyes focused, and she saw that it seemed like Sabrina had been shocked into turning visible again. Funny. Shocked.

She looked over at Chat, squinting through the bright electricity cage. He was struggling against the robots again, his limbs thrashing. She could hear his muffled attempts at screaming from underneath the tape. For a terrifying moment, she was afraid that Chat had gotten shocked too, but when he looked over at Marinette, his eyes were clear and in pain. But not the kind from being shocked with electricity.

“I’m okay,” she said weakly, and Chloe laughed.

“No, you’re not.” Marinette looked over at her, her movements feeling slow. “That shock was set to bring someone halfway to dying.” The words were delivered with the bright tone of a game show host, and Marinette closed her eyes, wondering how she was going to get through this. “Next question!”

Marinette opened her eyes again, straightening her spine and clenching her fists. No way was she letting herself look weak in front of Chloe ever again.

“What is the king’s full name?”

The answer choices and timer appeared in front of Marinette again.

A – Cool-king Plagg

B – Monsieur Fluffy Buns

C – Plagg

D – Plagg Dreemurr

Marinette looked over at Chat, but of course he couldn’t do anything to help. The robots were even covering his hands.

She didn’t want to get the answer wrong and experience such a strong shock and potentially die, but she didn’t know the answer. She couldn’t even rule any of the answers out because the rules here in the Underground were always strange and sometimes people had strange names. In a last resort gesture, she looked hopelessly at Sabrina.

For a moment, nothing. The timer ticked each second away. And then Sabrina’s eyes shot between Marinette and Chloe, her hands, which had been folded neatly in front of her, forming a very clear letter C.

Setting her eyes on Chloe once more, Marinette prayed to whatever higher being was out there that Sabrina could be trusted, and she pressed her hand to answer choice C. An agonizing silence ensued where it seemed like the only things comfortable were Chloe and the other robots.

“Correct!” Chloe said, still bright, but mostly disappointed. Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief. “Our king has only one name, but that doesn’t mean we don’t give him loving nicknames!” She winked at the camera.

“How many questions are there?” Marinette asked. Chloe’s robotic head whipped around to look at her, fixing her with that same shallow smile.

“How ever many it takes before you drop dead,” she said, her voice coated in poison and sugar. “Next question!”

Marinette looked at Sabrina, praying that her helping wasn’t just a one-time thing. Sabrina gave her a slight nod, her facial expression carefully blank.

“What shade of CB brand lipstick is my favorite?”

“That question isn’t fair,” Marinette protested, and Sabrina shook her head slightly, giving her a worried look.

“I decide what’s fair here. It’s a question, therefore it’s fair. Now what is my favorite shade of my brand of lipstick?”

As the answer choices materialized in front of Marinette, she considered Chloe’s words. CB brand. Chloe Bourgeois brand. She rolled her eyes, looking down at the answer choices and tucking a strand of glittery hair behind her ear.

A – Frozen Blossom

B – Pink Lady Luster

C – Sugar Coated

D – Dark Ballet

The answer choices didn’t come with swatches of the color, which Marinette found very unfair, but she restrained herself from saying so, instead looking up at Sabrina. She was forming the letter A which her hands, keeping them still low in front of her. Marinette chose the answer choice, and she was glad to feel no electricity in her.

“Correct!” Chloe exclaimed, sounding a little disappointed again. “Frozen Blossom is really and truly my favorite – I’m wearing it right now, in fact!” She made kissy lips at the nearest camera. “My brand has wonderful shades so it’s easy to pick a favorite, and I have multiple formulas available that suit scales, metal, skin – you name it!”

Marinette tuned out the rest of her shameless advertising, looking over to Chat, who seemed to still be struggling against the robots just in an effort to be free. She almost ran to him again, but the cage of electricity kept her away. She breathed out a sigh, trying to convince herself that she’d get through the deadly trivia game.

Once Chloe seemed to be done with her self-promotion, she turned back to Marinette, or rather, the cameras. “Next question! Who is the most beautiful in the Underground?”

A – Rose

B – Chloe

C – Ali

D – Chat Noir

Staring at the answer choices, she was in a clear bind. All of the people in the answer choices were beautiful to Marinette, even Chloe, though her appearance seemed a bit marred by her horrible personality. The timer ticked. Marinette looked up to see Sabrina was forming a B with a bit of difficulty.

Marinette looked at her SOUL. It seemed to look back at her. She pulled out her yo-yo, watching the timer in front of her as she pulled out her last unicicle and nearly inhaled it. She watched as her SOUL seemed to glow brighter, and something told Marinette that she was near full health now. She whispered a quick apology to it.

Carefully positioning her hand and one of her arms, she looked Chloe dead in the eye as she slammed her hand and arm over every single answer choice except for answer choice B. Chloe didn’t even bother saying it was incorrect.

The bright beam of electricity hit Marinette’s SOUL dead on, shocking Marinette’s very core. The pain that overcame her was just as intense as before, if not more. She felt herself throw her head back almost involuntarily and scream, the sound rough and animalistic. It tore her throat apart, and it felt like her body was being drenched in acid but it was so unbelievably worth it.

When she came back to her senses, she was on her knees again and tears were streaming down her face and it hurt to move, but she raised her head to look at Chloe, feeling her lips pull into a twisted smile. Something that felt far worse than anything Chloe could ever pull off.

“I’m not fuel for your ego,” she said, the words coming out as growl. Her eyes flicked over to Sabrina, who was standing completely still, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

There was a small sound from beside her, and Marinette looked over at Chat, whose face was turned toward the ceiling, almost like he was praying. When he opened his eyes, they met hers, and she could see how wet they were and how much he was begging her to never get an answer wrong again. For her sake and his.

Marinette’s heart felt like it had just been put through a wringer.

“Next question,” Marinette said, getting to her feet and leveling Chloe’s hard stare with one of her own.

After that, Marinette lost count of how many stupid and unfair questions Chloe shot at her. Each time, she was able to answer correctly because of Sabrina’s hand motions.

It was when Marinette was presented with a large jar of glitter and asked how many pieces of glitter were in there that their trick was found out. Sabrina was taking a while, and Marinette was staring at her hands the whole time.

“Oh!” Sabrina exclaimed at last, and she quickly formed the letter. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, and reached for the answer choice, but before she could, the choices disappeared.

“Huh?” Marinette looked up to see Chloe glaring at Sabrina, who nervously looked over at Chloe, her teeth worrying her lip. “Oh, no.”

“My dear Sabrina,” Chloe started, her lips pulling into a pinched smile, “have you been helping the human?” Sabrina shook her head back and forth, her hands and arms starting to turn invisible. “You know that’s against the rules.”

“I wasn’t helping,” Sabrina said, but the blush creeping across her cheeks told the exact opposite.

“In that case,” Chloe said, completely ignoring Sabrina, “I’ll ask a question you’ll be sure to know the answer to!” There was a dramatic pause, and the suspenseful game show music swelled. Marinette looked over at her SOUL, who looked just about as done as she felt. “Who does Sabrina have a crush on?”

A – The Human

B – Chloe

C – Alya

D – Don’t know

Marinette looked at Sabrina, but all she did was shake her hands back and forth.

There was no timer for this one, and Marinette took advantage of that, taking her time in considering each question. She wasn’t sure how the question was structured, so she couldn’t possibly feel comfortable picking option D if Chloe didn’t think that was the right answer.

She didn’t feel like it was herself – it seemed like Sabrina had been aware of Marinette’s feelings towards Chat, and that would certainly be the answer to piss Chloe off the most.

Since they had arrived at the lab, Sabrina had made no mention of Alya at all, and, to be quite honest, Marinette had a hard time imagining Sabrina liking her in that way.

That left the last option – Chloe herself. It would certainly be the option that would please Chloe the most, but Marinette still thought about it. Sabrina had defended Chloe vehemently when Chat had gone on his rampage, and she had gone along with Chloe almost immediately after she had showed up. Not only was the answer choice the safest, it was the one that made the most sense. So Marinette chose it.

Almost immediately, Sabrina turned completely invisible, and that was enough proof for Marinette to know she was right.

“Wow, Sabrina,” Chloe said, her expression uncharacteristically soft and genuine. “I always thought you were loyal to me, but this just proves it.” There was a moment in which Chloe just smiled to herself, and Marinette thought that was far more beautiful than anything she had seen Chloe direct to towards the cameras.

But then her soft smile dropped and was replaced with a cold one. “As much as I appreciate your loyalty, Sabrina, we all know it’s the human. It’s just too obvious.” Marinette frowned, and she saw Sabrina slowly start to turn visible again, a look of confusion across her features.

“What makes you say that?” Marinette asked, just as confused as Sabrina.

Chloe waved her hand, visibly trying to make it look like the matter meant very little to her. “She has that viewing screen up, and she’s always talking about you. I’d call her obsessed.”

It was at this moment that Marinette understood that Chloe’s hatred towards her was for a reason and that Chloe was also very, very oblivious.

“Anyway, now that it’s clear that Sabrina’s been helping, there’s no edge to the game anymore, so we might as well stop,” Chloe said, turning to the camera nearest to her and plastering on her game show host smile. “But our mission to kill the human is not over, monsters and my ladies! Tune in next time for more drama” – the cameras panned to Sabrina – “more romance” – the cameras zoomed over to Chat and Marinette – “and more bloodshed!” The cameras went back to Chloe, whose smile had not left her face even the slightest. “Until next time!” she said, saluting charmingly at the camera.

There was a blackout, and immediately after, the regular lighting of the lab returned. Marinette’s SOUL slipped back into her chest. Chloe’s game show smile dropped almost comically from her face, replaced with a cold scowl that Marinette figured was her natural facial expression.

“Release him,” Chloe ordered, and the robots holding back Chat let him go, letting him fall freely to the floor. He landed harshly on his hands and knees, his body shaking.

Marinette ran to him, this time unhindered, and she dropped to her knees beside him, touching him lightly with her fingertip only to get a small electric shock. She pulled away, glaring over at Chloe, who was examining her perfectly polished pink nails. “What did you do to him?”

“The robots are programmed to deliver a minute electric shock any time he struggled. It was really his own fault.”

It was like the world went red for a moment, and suddenly Marinette had Chloe pushed up against the wall, her hands gripping the metal lapels of Chloe’s yellow blazer so tightly that it hurt. She couldn’t even form words to express the anger inside her, so she just glared, hoping that everything was communicating through her face.

Chloe’s perfect pink lips pulled down in a scowl of distaste as she stared at Marinette, and there was a moment in which all they did was stare at each other in mutual hatred. And then Chloe lifted her metal hand and pushed Marinette away.

“Relax human, he should recover easily in the next few minutes.” She turned away from Marinette, stepping back through the hole she’d made in the wall when she first arrived. “We’ll be seeing each other soon.” And she left, her cameras following after her.

Marinette stared at the spot for a moment longer, her fists unclenching and clenching, trying to get herself under control. There was a muffled moan behind her, and she was quite suddenly reminded of the fact that Chat was on the floor and in pain.

She hurried back to him, dropping to her knees again. He had fell from his hands and knees and now was laying face down on the tile. Marinette carefully flipped him over, touching her hands to his face and wincing at the shock it gave her, but pushing through it.

Chat’s eyes were glassy, and he looked really out of it, but he seemed to focus on Marinette. “Hey,” Marinette whispered, tracing her thumb on his cheekbone. He breathed out a harsh sigh through his nose, his eyes closing. “I’m going to take this off, okay?” she asked, tapping the tape on his mouth.

He raised his arm with great difficulty, his hand shaking, and he opened his eyes long enough to find Marinette’s other hand. She took his hand, and he gave her a little squeeze, nodding his head.

And then she ripped off the tape.

“Mother f-” Chat sat straight up, almost knocking his head with Marinette’s, but she managed to move out of the way just in time. He relaxed, rubbing his mouth. “Ow.” He looked over at Marinette, his lips pulling up weakly into a grin. “That was quite a shock.”

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief, practically tackling Chat with the force of her hug. “You’re okay,” she sighed into his neck, pulling him as close to her as physically possible.

She felt his body relax into her grip, and he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his hands over her back soothingly. “You scared me, too, bug.”

“I know,” she whispered, and she pulled away and gave him a soft smile. “But I’m okay. You’re okay.”

“Can’t deny that,” Chat said, and he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But I really hope you never do something dangerous just to prove a point ever again.”

“No promises,” Marinette said, her smile growing as he pulled away and laughed softly, shaking his head.

They helped each other stand, and when they were both on their feet, Chat leaned a little on Marinette. She let him, wrapping a hand around his waist to help keep him steady.

She looked over at Sabrina, who was blushing up to her ears and staring with a deep expression of longing. Marinette felt her cheeks grow hot, and when Sabrina noticed that Marinette was looking, Sabrina blushed even harder. “I’m very sorry,” Sabrina said, tucking her hair behind a very red ear, “ it’s just that you two are very- ah, I mean, I want- er, it’s very-” With each word she spoke, another part of her body turned invisible and her blush deepened even more.

“I get it,” Marinette said, sparing Sabrina of another moment of agony. She understood that whatever Sabrina saw with her and Chat, she really wanted to feel between her and Chloe.

“I don’t,” Chat said, and Marinette shot a glare at him. “What?” he asked, looking between her and Sabrina. “I really don’t get it.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

Sabrina was entirely invisible at this point, just a pair of red glasses and a stylishly smart outfit. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. Marinette imagined that she just tucked her hair behind her ear. “That was certainly something.”

Marinette sighed, feeling an ache set into her bones from the shock of electricity she’d felt before. She was suddenly very tired.

“Understatement of the century.”

[the-connection]

A new documentary reworks the memoir of Bowers, who boasts he paired Cary Grant with Rock Hudson and Katharine Hepburn with 150 brunettes and slept with so many actors he didnt have time to see their films

Scotty Bowers was a 23-year-old petrol station attendant on Hollywood Boulevard when the actor Walter Pidgeon pulled up to the pump and asked the dimpled blond to jump in his Lincoln. It would be the ride of his life. Pidgeon was gay, claims Bowers in his autobiography Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars, and that afternoon they became lovers. Bowers himself transcended labels. Years later, he startled sexologist Dr Alfred Kinsey by checking off every sex act on his list (and took him to orgies to prove it). Guys, girls, spouses, kings, consorts and a three-way with Ava Gardner and Lana Turner. Bowers had done it all.

[Kinsey] came looking for me, says Bowers, now 95, on a hot afternoon in a Hollywood courtyard apartment. Things he thought impossible, I came up with. With his devilish blue eyes and thick white hair, it is easy to picture why he was popular. He burns with energy, as though he spent his retirement stoking gossip he vowed he wouldnt spill while his lovers were alive. J Edgar Hoover? A drag. Vivien Leigh? A hot, hot lady. Wallis Simpson? A real ballsy chick.

Bowers (second from left, back row) with friends. Photograph: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

Bowers used to turn tricks in this same building. Today, the vintage-style pad belongs to the director Matt Tyrnauer, a former Vanity Fair journalist who recently reworked Bowers memoir into the eyebrow-raising documentary Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood. Tyrnauer, sitting next to Bowers and gently nudging his digressions on track, confirms that he called the Kinsey Institute to check Bowers tale. They knew exactly who he was.

Everyone knew Bowers. George Cukor, Gore Vidal, Merv Griffin; Tyrone Power referred to him in letters, interviews and biographies, calling him Scotty, Sonny, or just the gas station on Hollywood Boulevard. Tennessee Williams hand-wrote a 40-page story about him, which Bowers found embarrassingly over the top.

I said: Tennessee, forget that bullshit, says Bowers. I should have kept it. Instead, for decades, people pushed him to write down his own memories. I kept putting it off and putting it off, and all of a sudden, almost everyone they wanted me to write about was dead.

Lana Turner and Ava Gardner, with whom Bowers claims to have had a threesome. Photograph: Keystone/Getty Images

In 1946, the year he met Pidgeon, Bowers was competing with millions of other returning second world war veterans for work. Canoodling with a celebrity for $20 made more sense than digging a ditch for $10. After Pidgeon spread the word about his new friend, more luxury cars began to cruise by. Soon, Bowers side-hustle had expanded to a parked trailer with two king beds, glory holes in the bathroom and a battalion of good-looking men and women to fix up with some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Bowers boasts that he paired Cary Grant with Rock Hudson back when the Pillow Talk star was still named Roy, and introduced Katharine Hepburn to 150 lovely brunettes. As for Hepburns rumored paramour Spencer Tracy, Bowers says he slept with him, too.

Hepburn and Tracys complex relationship is a fascinating example of Hollywoods hypocritical and literal moral code. Publicists decided it was better to pretend the friends were having an affair than explain the real reason why Tracy wasnt living with his wife Louise, to whom he stayed married until his death. A heterosexual affair was forgivable even romantic and it wouldnt get either actor fired. After Fatty Arbuckle was put on trial for the rape and murder of Virginia Rappe, the studios began to add a clause in their contracts forbidding actors from committing any offence that risked public hatred, contempt or ridicule. While the courts found Arbuckle innocent twice the Hollywood moguls believed just a whiff of indecency could destroy the entire industry. The swinging days of the early silent era ended overnight. Performers became studio property: they were told how to dress, how to behave, and who to date, or at least pretend to.

Bowers in uniform in the 1940s. Photograph: Greenwich Entertainment

It was a lucrative lie. Roy Harold Scherer got his teeth capped and became Rock Hudson. When the tabloids began to nag Hudson to get married, the executives betrothed him to his lesbian secretary Phyllis. Archibald Leach was rechristened Cary Grant and wed to the great beauty Barbara Hutton, although the love of his life was screen cowboy Randolph Scott, with whom he lived for 12 years as a roommate. Bowers says in his book: The three of us got into a lot of sexual mischief together.

Living double lives took a toll. Eventually, Hudson began drinking a bottle of scotch a day and recklessly sleeping with strangers. Grant tried psychedelic therapy and spoke in quips that hinted at his unfulfillment. I played at being someone I wanted to be until I became that person, or he became me, he told his biographer. Even his most famous quote Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant sounds like a whispered confession, or maybe a misdirection. What if he just wanted to be as free as Archibald Leach?

Bowers bedded so many movie stars that he didnt have time to see their movies. A movie takes a couple hours. I was busy every minute. When his daughter, Donna, died, he went back to work that day. He shared a home with her mother, his longtime partner Betty, but slept there only a few times a year. In the documentary, he teeters towards admitting regret for spending most nights in someone elses bed. But he candidly admits his only true passion was money. He grew up hungry during the Depression era, and, as a young teenager, he turned tricks for two dozen Chicago priests who paid him in quarters. That would be abuse in everyones eyes but his. In the documentary, Tyrnauer repeatedly presses Bowers about his childhood, and does so again today.

Youre very intent on the fact that you dont perceive yourself as a victim, says Tyrnauer.

I did what I wanted to do, maintains Bowers.

That is not the conventional perspective at all, but it is his perspective and I dont judge him for that, says Tyrnauer. I think people get to define who they are and tell their story and express their beliefs.

Executives married off Rock Hudson to his lesbian secretary, Phyllis Gates. Photograph: Kobal/Rex/Shutterstock

I do think that different people are different, thats very true, replies Bowers. Im speaking for myself only.

As an adult at the petrol station, Bowers never took a cut of other peoples cash. To him, that meant he wasnt a pimp; he was a purveyor of joy. The most important thing was company, says Bowers. The LGBTQ community didnt have many safe places to connect at that time. Homosexuality was illegal in California until the 1970s. When the Los Angeles Police Department vice squad the sexual Gestapo, says Tyrnauer barged into a gay bar, patrons risked being arrested, shaken down for cash, shipped to a mental institution, and possibly lobotomised. The LAPD targeted the Hollywood glitterati because they had careers to protect and money to spare.

When the petrol station became too famous, Bowers became a for-rent party bartender, which gave celebrities an even better excuse to invite him into their homes. Even that was risky. One cop memorised Bowers car registration plate and would pull him over, scare him a bit, and then undo Bowers pants while complaining about his miserable marriage. I hope he found happiness, writes Bowers, charitably.

The vice squad is responsible for Bowers impressive memory. Midway through one aside, he recites the address of a silent movie star who has been dead for 45 years. Terrified of a raid, he rarely wrote down his friends information. It was all in my head, says Bowers. I never kept anything. If I wrote down a number, I had it in my hand until I tore it up. Even then, he would swap the first and last digits to ensure the persons identity couldnt be cracked, a trick inspired by the Navajo code talkers.

Now, Bowers has no secrets. Critics have slammed the book and the documentary for outing celebrities without consent. In the film, Tyrnauer includes a film fan arguing that legendary stars deserve more respect. Bowers counters: Whats wrong with being gay? Others have thanked him for sticking up for the real person underneath the studio gloss for revealing their truth the way they might have if they were alive today. It is impossible to know how Hudson and Grant would have chosen to live in a country that legalised gay marriage. Perhaps their lives would have been happier. Although, Bowers notes, even in 2018: Everythings not going to be out in the open. More actors are out, but now must prove they can play both gay and straight characters. Neil Patrick Harris has succeeded; Matt Bomer is trying. Some have decided that it is still easier to hide.

Asked if he is biting his tongue about anyone alive, Bowers blurts out the name of a beloved actor and her 169% gay husband. He is dead; she isnt. So, Bowers will wait. Let me tell you something: when youre dead youre dead, he insists. Later, when the conversation turns to Kevin Spacey Bowers claims to know one of his exes Tyrnauer steadily repeats that Bowers information about the alleged perpetrator is merely secondhand. The director is clearly, and correctly, aware of the complexities of talking sensitively about sex in the era of #MeToo. But after eight decades of secrecy Bowers sighs: Poor Kevin Spacey, he was right in the middle of a picture and they dumped him and everything. Thanks to #MeToo, morality clauses are making a comeback. This time, one hopes they will only be wielded for good.

Cary Grant (right) with his room mate Randolph Scott. Photograph: Snap/Rex Features

Hollywood journalist Liz Smith once quipped: All this crap about coming out! Honey, I dont think I have ever really been in! Before she died last November, she affirmed that Hepburn was a lesbian.

I was pleased that she went on the record about Hepburn because I dont think shed ever done it before, says Tyrnauer. It really provides a great assist to Scottys narrative about Hepburn and Tracy, because people are in willful suspension of belief about this supposed golden couple.

Even more startling are Bowers lusty tales about Wallis Simpson and Edward VIII. Wally and Eddie, corrects Bowers, waving away their formal names. It was very easy to see how she talked him out of being king of England because she had complete control over him, says Bowers. She told him if you want to fool around and do this and that, you cant do it if youre king.

Scotty Bowers at home in LA. Photograph: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

A lot of people dont believe that particular story, says Tyrnauer. But he places them at the Beverly Hills Hotel in the 50s. We found a picture of them in the Beverly Hills Hotel in that period its in the movie. Four former clients knew Edward, and the couples close friend, photographer Cecil Beaton, titled an entire chapter of his diary: Scotty.

There were many, many factors that connected them, says Tyrnauer. I cross-referenced everything I could. When Bowers described a mansions winding pathway to the pool house, or a gate in a backyard, Tyrnauer would pull up an aerial view of Google Maps and there it was, as though the nonagenarian had visited yesterday.

In Los Angeles, notes the director: You can wipe the dust off something that has been obscured and find the truth. Scottys a living example of that. Here he was in Laurel Canyon for decades minding his business. And yet hes Scotty Bowers, the infamous male madame to the stars, and either you knew it or you didnt.

He has tried to ensure Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood tells the truth instead of peddling innuendo like tabloids, TMZ, or even acclaimed smut such as Kenneth Angers Hollywood Babylon.

Am I in that, too? asks Bowers.

Tyrnauer chuckles: Maybe between the lines.

There always will be secret life happening, beams Bowers. People should do what pleases them and the other person some people just please more than a few.

Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood is out now in the US and awaiting a UK release date

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us