killer book

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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) 

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I am not a Serial Killer

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 audiences.”

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 Shell remake, 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.

Netflix’s ‘Death Note’ Should Be Returned To Sender

Photo: James Dittiger/Netflix

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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.

And then Osage members started turning up dead.

Find out more here.

– Petra

Night of Days 

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 friend and true crime writer Ann Rule.