Why Was Warrior Nun Saved But Not First Kill? My Trashy Little Show Did So Well.

Why was Warrior Nun saved but not First Kill? My trashy little show did so well.

Does anyone have some good rhaenicent fics they’d recommend? Preferably in universe.

I just finished @molter-writes phenomenal fic Ride the Dragon, and I can’t recommend it enough.

Sometimes I feel like I’m Tinker Bell, like I’m not even real without the approval of others.

Why First Kill is a bit trashy, but you should watch it anyway:

1.) The displays of deep, unconditional love Talia shows to her kids, and Margot to her husband, Sebastian.

2.).Ben and Juliette’s friendship is beautiful and remains important regardless of their romantic relationships.

3.) Every main character is morally grey and complicit. It makes them feel real and relatable.

4.) Juliette and Calliope are fantastic when they’re in conflict. It’s a Romeo/Juliet story so their “love” is fast, and hollow, even while it’s sweet to watch. It’s not love though — at least not yet. But the final episode and where the pair leave off gives me hope that it could become so. J&C are at their best when they have something to talk about that isn’t how their families are so against them.

5.) It does a good job bringing in the intersection of race during life or death scenarios.

6.) The sibling dynamics. They aren’t always the most fleshed out, but there’s enough there that I cared about every single sibling pair and there’s tons of room to build on in the next season.

7.) Talia and Margot have wicked chemistry.

8.) Calliope and Juliette are awkward and earnest in a way that’s true to the teen experience.

9.) The world building that has been introduced is good. I want more.

10.) It’s on par with the better CW and Freeform shows. This small budget gay show deserves a chance.

Miss Congeniality (2000) + letterboxd

Shut up they love each other:

It isn’t painful, the icy blue tide dragging her down and it should be. The Thames bubbles and rushes down her throat, her ribs heave and spasm in their search for oxygen. She’s drowning, bleeding too if the crimson shadow trail is anything to go by. But in the absence of physical feeling, comes this clarity: she is free, and there is a hand reaching out for her. The two very things she’s always wanted since the day she was plucked from that orphanage are here and so maybe, maybe this is peace. Villanelle closes her eyes from the sting of the water, the wounds, and the piercing eyes of Eve’s that are so desperate.

At that last sight, Villanelle’s snap back open, locking onto the woman still groping for her, terrified, on the brink, and Villanelle dismisses any world where she could be at peace when Eve is in trouble as bullshit. It’s always been Eve, and Villanelle’s still breathing so she has to try to stay. But she. Can’t. Move. Another bullet slices through flesh and bone – internal organs become external and that’s…that has to be enough. Her eyes slip shut, and with them one last glimpse at Eve still so determined, Villanelle slips down and –

—

It is with the realization that Eve has truly lost everything that she screams, it’s deep, agonizing, and feral, and goes on and on. It has no purpose — she isn’t intending for anything anymore…is barely treading water purely out of habit. Wouldn’t duck if a spatter of bullet fire rained down. Perhaps that makes her ungrateful, refusing to make an effort. Refusing to try and survive after such a huge sacrifice. But Villanelle never apoligized for anything, and existing is a stupid, cumbersome burden so Eve refuses to apologize to her for this. Especially since…what would be the point of that now? So she screams, letting the world know exactly where she is, below a huge damned boat hosting an oblivious wedding party and the two grooms above, likely dancing under soft fairy strung lighting and holding each other and…diving into the very river that’s vast enough that she could’ve been left in peace.

One of the grooms, the ugly one, scoops Eve up under the armpits and all she can think to say to their urgent questions is “She’s gone.” Words so simple and small, so starkly different from her thunderous cry from moments earlier, that the wind could’ve carried them off before they reached another person. But the handsome man, face soaked, must hear her because he shakes his head resolutely, squares his shoulders, and dives under.

I had this idea where the married couple helps out. Let me know if it’s worth continuing? If so, I’ll finish it.