First of all, the premise of The Other Woman is delightful and I love it. An asshole named Mark cheats on his wife (Kate, played by a hilarious Leslie Mann) with two other women, and the three ladies band together to take him down, becoming best friends in the process. At one point his former girlfriend, Carly (Cameron Diaz), explicitly declares to Kate (and to the audience): “We’re not in competition [with each other].”

BAM. TAKE THAT, HOLLYWOOD PATRIARCHY. Not only are they not in competition — Kate, Carly, and Amber (Kate Upton) are active allies. And, if we lived in a just, sense-making, emotionally sincere world, Kate and Carly would be girlfriends.

Previous installments of Femslash Friday can be found here.

Friends, how do you feel about murderesses?

To be more specific: how do you feel about women who have little use for men beyond the expedient? Who find humanity, as a general category, to be dull, silly, exploitable things clambering after some irrelevant significance? Who kill with little remorse and no regret? Who even in their deep ennui about humans are more engaged with women than men and with each other more than anyone? Who might, maybe, on some level want to be kinder to the world, but don’t know how to find a world that allows them to be so?

If the answer is “POSITIVE,” then I am here to help. I’m here to talk to you about Root and Shaw on Person of Interest.

A quick note: 1) If you are a person who is into portmanteaux for your ships, I would like to point out that your options consist, VERY APPROPRIATELY, of Shoot and Raw, and I think that’s beautiful. 2) If you’re looking for some theme music to listen to while we do this, look what I got you! ALL RIGHT. We have girded ourselves with music; we have laughed at or with the portmanteau phenomenon; we are now as prepared as a human can ever be for these two. Shall we?

I’m flying today — involuntarily being dragged through the sky while crying with a certain soft and quiet dignity — so please enjoy this video of lesbian subtext from Star Trek set to the tune of Abba’s “I Fell in Love With A Starship Trooper.”

In a perfect world, Hawkeye would be everyone’s favorite superhero. Both Hawkeyes—Clint Barton, the original Hawkeye, whose tragic upbringing didn’t turn him into a brooding Bruce Wayne but rather an endearing screw-up with a love for strays and commitment issues, and Kate Bishop, a sharp-tongued but level-headed young woman whose insecurities ring far truer than those of the superhumans surrounding her—are exemplary characters, worthy of their own titles and roles in the Marvel cinematic universe. (Sadly, this hasn’t really been the case yet. As Jeremy Renner has pointed out, his Hawkeye barely spoke in The Avengers, and he’s featured in 47 seconds of Thor; Kate, meanwhile, is one of scads of Marvel women who haven’t gotten any screen time in the five years since the MCU took off; we’re not going to count the Edward Norton Incredible Hulk, for reasons that should be obvious.) When you look at the relationships they foster—the close, almost familial connection they share, Kate’s tense partnerships with her fellow Young Avengers, Clint’s many romantic slips and falls—they become all the more interesting. And while it’s fun to pick apart Clint’s failed marriage to Mockingbird or his long-standing partnership with Natasha Romanov, who he refers to in the latest Hawkeye run as his “work wife,” it’s infinitely more enjoyable to examine Kate’s potential relationships, one in particular.

(Before we dig any deeper here, yes, there’s a third Hawkeye, or there was, but he was an evil Hawkeye and he’s also taken up the mantel of Daredevil in a more significant role, so we’re just going to skate over him and say Clint and Kate are the only true Hawkeyes. Fair? Fair.)