#ofmd fandom

First of all, OFMD writer Alex Sherman was wearing an OFMD-themed sweatshirt with the s1 cat flag logo on it and sleeves inspired by the depression robe. 10/10.

Things I learned (this is mostly paraphrase):

S2 was hectic from the get, and particularly the last two episodes were rewritten until the last minute (sometimes in ways the actors didn't especially like), so I had no time to be nervous about being onscreen in the last episode. The AD was like, "Are you showing your butt later?," and I was like "Thanks for the reminder." They gave me a special sock to wear so I wouldn't show anything I wasn't supposed to. The person they put me on top of was from Chicago. Taika's 9-year-old was the one to call action for the scene. It was a weird day. That episode changed so much, but I advocated to keep my butt in it.

Samba really helped us find Roach's character. Roach was initially the merger of a couple of characters, and the way Samba played him fed into our writing for him.

Lucius was fun to write for because of his joke delivery. Nat Faxon (Swede) pulled off any dumb idea you gave him.

Rhys's body position was so consistent from one take to another, you could edit around him. Like, in a scene where he was writing a letter, holding the quill on the same line every time. Rhys brought so much humanity to everything. He felt so bad in 1.2 that Roach had to come to him about the missing hostage, and that impacted how we wrote the scene. We were initially worried about how people would respond to Stede, who left his wife and kids, and once Rhys started playing him, it wasn't even a concern whether people would find him likable.

[in response to a question about what character he sees himself in] I wish I could be Olu, but I'm Pete / Lucius / Stede. The Pixar try-ers.

The Gentleman Pirate, i presume?

Caring kisses ❤️❤️

I am a solidly middle-aged fangirl, and my last real fan community before OFMD was the X-Files. (I feel like I am not the only one here who fits that description).

The news that we aren’t getting a new season of Our Flag Means Death is hitting me harder than I expected.

So I am thinking about Scully.

There’s this X-Files episode called “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose.” The plot is about a guy who can see into the future and tell people how they die.

Scully asks him, "How do I die?"

And Clyde Bruckman replies, simply, "You don't."

I've seen fans speculate that Scully winds up becoming immortal by the end of the series. But, 22 years after the end of the show's original run, that line has taken on a new meaning for me.

Scully doesn't die, she can't die, because I still think about her. Scully is immortal because there are fans still writing her into stories, still making art, still getting inspired by her and pursuing medicine and science.

You cannot truly kill a story. You can cancel a TV show. You can, if you're an asshole, make fun of fan creators and their ideas. If you're really an asshole (and a media conglomerate), you can send them cease and desist letters and tell them to stop making art that breathes new life into that story. But the story will not die.

I draw a lot of hope from the long, long history of fandom. The people who loved stories enough to keep them alive, even when it wasn't clear that there would ever be another "official" work in their lifetimes. The Sherlock Holmes fans. The Star Trek fans.

How does a story die?