I have recently become utterly smitten with the Society of Gentlemen book series by KJ Charles. The book covers are so disappointing and bland and do not do these characters justice AT ALL so I needed to draw the boys myself.
If you like Regency-era stories about gentlemen who like other gentlemen then you should check this series out; it’s got some lovely romance and friendships and supporting-each-other-through-hardship and era politics and scandal and drama and pining. Not to mention bi and demi and trans characters, and none of the conflicts revolve around anyone being ashamed of their sexuality. Oh, and they all have HAPPY ENDINGS! Also people actually communicate and it avoids so many stupid misunderstandings that are so common in love stories.
(Basically everything I’ve ever wanted in historical romance and more)
The movie follows 15-year-old John Wayne Cleaver, a diagnosed sociopath who lives above a mortuary owned by his mother. He fears that he is “fated” to become a serial killer,
and so lives by a set of rules designed to keep his homicidal impulses
in check. His careful regime of self-denial is threatened when he
becomes ensnared in a serial murder case in which he senses a connection
with the killer.
The upcoming movie is based on the I Am Not A Serial Killer 2009 thriller novel written by Dan Wells. It is the first installment in the John Wayne Cleaver trilogy.
Wells has stated that he wrote the book with himself as the target
audience and that although “a teenager protagonist means the book is
[young adult]”, the book “is ‘adult’ enough that different markets are
treating it very differently: in the UK it’s a YA horror, in Germany
it’s an adult thriller, and in the US it’s being marketed to both
Scrawl this one in your magic killer notebook if you’ve heard it before: A popular, beloved Japanese manga and anime catches the attention of an American studio desperate for that sweet trans-global box office. The American studio then opts to Anglicize the property, casting largely white actors and leaving intact only the exotic qualities of a vaguely Asian aesthetic. “The name is an intentional misdirection,” some astute viewer might observe. “He wants us to believe he’s Japanese.”
Friends, such a sentiment was not a studio note for this spring’s Ghost in the Shellremake, but rather a line of dialogue in the new Netflix offering Death Note — as self-incriminating a thing for an investigator character to say as ever there was.
Death Note was first a manga created by Tsugumi Ohba and illustrator Takeshi Obata, then an anime series (currently available on Netflix as well), and then a live-action film series in Japan. In those earlier incarnations it made sense that a teen with supernatural murder-ability would want to style himself with the name “Kira,” which is derived from the Japanese pronunciation of the English killer. But once the book changes hands to some white kid in Seattle, and that kid is using “Kira” just to throw the feds off his scent, that’s little more than an “intentional misdirection” aimed at fans of the original Death Note.
Generations ago, the American Indian Osage tribe was forced to move. Not for the first time, white settlers pushed them off their land in the 1800s. They ended up in a rocky, infertile area in northeast Oklahoma in hopes that settlers would finally leave them alone.
As it turned out, the land they had chosen was rich in oil, and in the early 20th century members of the tribe became spectacularly wealthy. They bought cars and built mansions; they made so much oil money that the government began appointing white guardians to “help” them spend it.
This is no way to be Man ought to be free That man should be me Talk to the walls Echoes down the halls Dream of dreams An allusion freedom seems Write thoughts on paper by reams
Toilet flushes Water gushes Makes such a noise Lack of privacy annoys Nightime [sic] sounds Jailer makes rounds No freedom abounds Prisoners are clowns
So the night slowly passes No wine of wine glasses No girls to make passes Just us caged asses Cards are alright I play them all night
Sleep comes on slowly Read the words of the wholly The scriptures bring peace They talk of release They bring you to god I’m here that seems odd But His gift is so clear I find that He’s near Mercy and redemption Without an exception He puts me at ease Jailer, do what you please No harm can befall me When the Savior does call me
I look back on this day And what can I say More of my life wasted No freedom I’ve tasted 7:30 it’s chow time At that hour who feels fine Milk, mush, and toast Not much of to boast
Sweep the floors Talk of whores Hear the thunder of prison doors Do your chores Listen to bores How guys made scores Or escaped distant shores
I wrote a letter That made me feel better Words to the outside That’s how I keep my pride I write words of hope It’s really no soap I mean what I say Where there’s hope there’s a way I’ll be free someday
I sleep quite a lot Escape though it’s not In sleep I don’t care I forget the night mare The bars and the screams Are not in my dreams I don’t smoke cigarettes Or have sad regrets This sleep liberation Is tranquil salvation
- A poem by Ted Bundy sent to his friendand true crime writer Ann Rule.