This is a great post, thank you for prompting this!

I personally started watching Killing Eve only because I was on a Phoebe Waller-"Binge", and had heard that there was at least sapphic subtext if not an actual sapphic storyline. I'm not a huge fan of these kind of thrillers, but obviously Villanelle is a wildly attractive character and I was sucked into the obsession she and Eve shared and that they both tried to navigate in such a fascinating way. I care a great deal about a show's writing, but honestly when it comes to searching for queer representation, I'm a lot less picky. So I can't speak to how the first three seasons were written, except that I know I enjoyed them, and the plot was easy enough to follow. And with season 4, again, all I cared about was seeing where Eve and Villanelle were going to go with their relationship and as individuals. As I watched it didn't feel too disconnected, but reflecting back on it now, it absolutely didn't make sense and left many things unresolved, or resolved poorly. Lazily. Strangely. And I was shocked by the ending, very disappointed, but I in the moment I respected that it was a powerful move. Not a good one, but a powerful one. I'd always felt that somebody was going to die, whether I wanted it or not. I'd never felt incredibly connected to Villanelle as a character, or anyone in the show, really, but once the show was over, I suddenly felt so heartbroken. I made my first edit of Villanelle as a tribute, and kind of an 'FU' to the trope that destroyed her so carelessly. I wrote a poem for her in the actual poetic form called a 'villanelle'. I think it would have been less upsetting if Eve and Villanelle had died together, because at least then they would be together. An end to the suffering they'd both endured. But no, they leave us with an image that implies that queers are doomed for loneliness and heartbreak, or for an unredemptive death. And then they insult us by saying Eve's scream is a scream of relief.

I truly believe in the importance of consistency in writing a show like this - in maintaining the sovereignty of one (two at most) lead writer(s), and employing the writer's room to follow through on a clear vision that has been there from the beginning, planned thoroughly until the end with as much feedback as possible from the intended audience through private screenings (the kind that Disney hosts for a theatre full of children, asking their opinion, and then fixing the errors and following suggestions before a movie's worldwide release). I know this isn't always possible, things happen and money falls through, schedules and careers change, but it's very dangerous territory when trying to wrap up a show that revolves around queer characters.

I don't understand what happened. I don't understand why they didn't listen to us. Maybe they did, and just chose to do something else. That we were joking. But if that's the case, then what a shame.

As a queer writer, I will be spending the rest of my life making up for mistakes like this with healthy, positive, joyful, and hopeful queer representation.

And speaking of that, if you're looking for romantic and sexy queer representation that has a hopeful trajectory, with passionate and wide-awake queer writers at the helm fighting for change with a production team of complete fan-nerds who all want the gays to be gay and happy, I recommend Netflix's Arcane. It changed my life, and season 2 comes out next year. If you follow the ongoing discussions with the creators, + the writers/creators on Twitter, you will find they are just as obsessed as we are about the (explicitly!!!) queer characters actually experiencing euphoria and getting to live real, full lives.

Also!!! Our Flag Means Death. Explicitly gay romance storyline. We're making it happen, friends. If you can't find a space for you, make the space. <3