#the story of oliver

[r1999-transcript]

The Story of Oliver 01 - The Prison of Fog

What lies beyond the exquisitely crafted cage of mist?

I can’t remember when it was that I began to hate the fog.

This city, forever shrouded in fog, prompts the overwrought comparison between Sisyphus’s endless struggle and our own. The fog that covers this absurdity and unsightliness is like a bell jar imprisoning a cricket. Beyond those invisible intangible borders lie the jeering faces of the gods. They drained every ounce of vitality from the cricket, dispatching the fog as their most faithful instrument. And so, the cricket turned its head to find this thick fog everywhere—up, down, left, right—all around. No escape in sight, no perceptible boundaries… Even its cry would be lost in the fog. That fog as viscous as snot flowing from a runny nose enveloped the cricket to the point where the poor wretch couldn’t even make a sound. It rubbed its wings in vain, attempting to make even the slightest noise, but the only thing that filled the air was the fog and its silent ridicule. To this day, no one has responded to its pleas. In this thick fog, there is only silence, the silence of death… That’s what it does, this fog—it invariably forces the individual to face the certainty of their own demise. Walking in this endless fog, with no end in sight, surrounded by a cage of untouchable wire, where even the most furious strikes have no means of finding their target. The only thing one is allowed to feel is extreme loneliness and that deathly still. We, walking through this dense fog for the sake of our so-called mission, might possibly be the most pitiable crickets of all. How long has it been since I last saw the sun?

Vertin: … Oliver Fog?

Oliver: Oh… Sorry, Miss Vertin. I lost myself for a moment there. What were we talking about just now?

Vertin: That we hoped that you would aid our cause two days from now. With the enemy well hidden within the fog; determining their location will be no easy feat. It looks like we’ll be counting on you and your arcane skill to succeed.

Oliver: The day after tomorrow… That’s a holiday, isn’t it?

Vertin: It is indeed.

Oliver: Before I offer you a response, Miss Vertin, allow me to ask you a question. Who was it that proposed I join you in this operation of yours?

> Vertin: It was Mr. Knight.

Oliver: And will he also be taking part?

Vertin: Mr. Knight will not be taking part in this operation, but he recommended you wholeheartedly.

Oliver: You do know that he’s egging me on by passing this work to me? It’s quite evident, Miss Vertin.

> Vertin: And what if I were to say I was the one that chose you, recommendations notwithstanding?

Oliver: Deception is not your strong suit. It’s entirely obvious that you’re covering for him. You know for a fact that I am not the kind to work on a day off, and based on your personality, which is to say; conciliatory in nature, you would never have proposed such a plan. So, then. The suit of armour put you up to this? Am I right?

Vertin: …..Perhaps. But why would you suspect him in the first place?

-

Oliver: Miss Vertin, I intend to direct a formal complaint towards Mr. Knight.

Vertin: …

Oliver: Allow me to come straight to the point, Miss Vertin. I would be more than willing to help you in any way, merely due to the goodwill we have fostered through the course of our acquaintance. However, my principles will not permit me to sacrifice my hard-earned time off merely for the convenience of others. I will provide you with any advice you may require, but my practical assistance is out of the question.

Vertin: So then, this your latest experiment in reformist rhetoric?

Oliver: Not at all. It’s a manner of prevarication that’s been in use since Chamberlain’s day.

Vertin: Look— I won’t try to force you, Oliver. I’m merely here to discuss the matter with you.

Oliver: Then I thank you for your understanding, Miss Vertin. If there’s nothing else I can help you with, I will take my leave. There’s work I’ve yet to finish todayz

Somewhere in the Suitcase

A Knight: What someone is about to recount to you is a sworn testimonial of a face-to-face run-in with a dark spirit, a blood-thirsty creature of undeath someone encountered as a chivalrous knight long, long ago.

Sotheby: Brilliant! I love this story— I mean, Miss Sotheby knows she’s definitely going to love this story!

A Knight: Someone came across a long-abandoned castle with a close friend while journeying the countryside one dark night.

Sonetto: Hm…

A Knight: …The forest around the castle was a mire shrouded in eerie mist, and someone was traipsing right through it, boots trampling on rotten leaves and kicking up the most vile, putrid stink of rancid soil mixed with the damp stench of decay. But our destination was not far off. We had almost reached the castle gate.

Eagle: …

A Knight: Suddenly, someone and that faithful friend spied a shadowy figure up ahead. He was slumped askew against a tree, seemingly unconscious. Back then, someone was still a simple-minded knight. Someone stepped forward and went heedlessly over to the side of the mysterious figure…

Crowd: …

Just as everyone leans in closer, listening ever more attentively to the knight’s story, another figure passes by.

Oliver: I can confirm that there are no problems with the work plan. Everything seems to be in order… The schedule is a little tight, but if we proceed accordingly, we can still finish all work on time today.

A Knight: Someone tapped him on the shoulder, but he didn’t budge an inch. Then, someone tapped him again… He suddenly lifted his head to reveal a ghastly, desiccated face with black holes where his eyes should’ve been!

Crowd: What?!

Sotheby: Miss Sotheby knows! It must’ve been the Chupacabra!

A Knight: If only the truth were so simple. As soon as we saw that living corpse, someone and someone’s good friend knew right away— In the depths of the castle lay a terrifying, treacherous, blood-curdling banshee!

Sotheby: An evil spirit? What a surprise! All the spirits Miss Sotheby has met have been most cordial to her! Though to be fair. I have never had the misfortune of meeting a thirsty one before.

Sonetto: That’s a good point… They might be a bit on the quirky side, but Poltergeist and Click are good souls.

Oliver: Excuse me please, some of us have work to do.

Sotheby: Oh, this way, please—from my side, over here. Mr. Fog, Mr. Knight was telling us about his past adventures just now. In fact, he was right in the middle of a very interesting story when you came in. Would you like to say a while and listen with us?

Oliver: I’ll pass on the ghost stories; I am very busy. However, I feel I must caution you, ladies.

Sonetto: Oh?

Oliver: There exist people in this world whose mouths are incapable of speaking the truth. Not only do they spin their yarns, boasting about what has never truly transpired, but they may even shirk their responsibilities and force minors to carry out their work for them.

A Knight: Someone doesn’t even have a mouth! Although someone has been wondering for some time now—how does someone even speak without anything with which to speak out of?

Sotheby: Through the magic of your arcane skill!

Vertin: … I knew this was going to happen.

Sonetto: Timekeeper? You came to visit, too? Did something happen to Mr. Fog today? He appears to be in quite a foul mood.

> Vertin: I don’t think he’s very happy about having to work outside of his schedule.

Crowd: I see…

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[watchyourbuck]

I don’t think yall understand how meaningful it is to have Oliver say “when you close your eyes it all feels the same” (kissing on screen). The fact that he doesn’t laugh it off, or say he had to push through it, or that it was a little weird like other actors have in the past is so incredibly important. This is him portraying a character and his sexuality, and it’s so validating to have the actor do his job the way Oliver has, in such a caring, positive way. It’s the feeling of finally belonging, of blending in when you’ve been marginalized and picked out all your life. Love is love, and a kiss is just a kiss.

[localraccconn]

barry keoghan u lil freak i love u so much

[oliverstarksource]

[fuzziiwuzzii]

3rd Saltburn watch last night 😽 Farleigh and Oliver’s relationship remains the most interesting to me,,,

[exhuastedpigeon]

I know we're all very excited about all of Oliver's interviews, but the next episode isn't about buddie or bucktommy - it's about Maddie and Chim getting married after years of love and pain and loss and hope.

It's about Maddie marrying a man who loves her, who respects her, who trusts her, who doesn't control her, who wants Maddie to just be Maddie.

It's about Chimney marrying a woman who loves him, who values him for exactly who he is, who laughs at his jokes, who overcame hell and came out the other side a little battered and bruised but still alive, who loves him for exactly who is he and has never once asked him to change.

It's about a couple who fought through abusive ex-husbands and near death experiences and PPD and breaking up but still loving each other so much and getting back together because being apart was never going to work for them.

It's about a family that deserves happiness finally getting to celebrate that after years of so much drama.

So again, I know we're all excited about the buddie and bucktommy of it all, but let's not forget what 7x06 is about - Maddie and Chimney getting married.

[theresoneicouldcallking]

i'm still processing everything and my mind is both all over the place and hyperfixated on that final scene.

but.

oliver said there have been crumbs throughout the show for years

oliver said this is how he has always seen buck

oliver said the fans weren't crazy for clocking buck as queer, because he himself saw it too

oliver said he had to pull back from fan interaction on social media because he wanted to validate our feelings so much but couldn't because those as*holes over at fox were holding him back

oliver said he planned on playing buck differently this season, leaning more towards bi buck and this was WITHOUT knowing what tim had planned

tim said there were studio execs back when who held all the cards basically confirming that fox refused to give them the green light for this story arc

tim said he's always viewed buck's love interests as flat and never moved the story forward

[cyellolemon]

surviving the ocean

[pink-key]

In the spirit of Halloween, I have a costume idea for Toby: Hank J. Wimbleton from Madness Combat. Hehe... 😏

Good idea! Happy late Halloween!

[r1999-transcript]

The Story of Oliver 03 - Dad Jokes

One or several corny, boring jokes.

Oliver: Well, that’s everything done, more or less… Let me check my work schedule. Good. Then I can clock off now. It’s not that noticeable during the daytime, but as soon as night falls, this forest becomes excruciatingly quiet. Hm…. I hate places that are this silent.

It reminds me of the fog I have to immerse myself in almost daily. Where even my shouts and cries for help are swallowed up by this bedevilled fog.

???: Waaaah!!!

Oliver: What’s this? It’s too dark to see clearly… Critters! And they’re attacking!

???: Squeeeee!!!

Oliver: There’s even more of them than I’d feared… And there’s no kind of natural shelter around… If I stay out, they’ll eventually surround me. Fortunate that I absorbed quite a bit of fog while working this afternoon. It should still be usable… Hah… So this is my reward for all that hard work? No, I shouldn’t think like that. But work’s the reason I ended up in this mess. It looks like there are fewer enemies in that direction… I think I just might break through that way.

A dense fog pours out from above his umbrella, quickly enveloping the surrounding area.

…

Oliver: Phew… That was a narrow escape, all thanks to the fog… At last it seems there aren’t as many critters around here. It’s too dark now, and with the fog, I couldn’t even make out what kind of critters were attacking me… I need to rest for a bit now… I’ll figure out how to get out of here once I catch my breath.

???: Fogwalker, are you alright, my young friend?

Oliver: ?!

A Knight: Are you truly so surprised to see someone here, Fogwalker?

Oliver: …Mr. Knight!

A Knight: Did you think me a Dullahan? Or else what other vile thing did you see as to elicit that reaction on seeing someone here?

Oliver: I thank you for using the word “surprised” instead of “panicked” regarding my reaction.

A Knight: I have no interest in shaming your reaction, Fogwalker.

Oliver: Well then, Mr. Knight, what brings you here?

A Knight, Someone had the sudden impulse to play the part of a stone in the forest. See? Someone’s disguise is quite perfect, is it not? Even your keen eyes failed to detect someone’s presence amid the moss and trees.

Oliver: Don’t you think it would have been even stranger if I had managed to notice you there?

A Knight: Because the night is so dark?

Oliver: Mr. Knight, this kind of banal joke is what we commonly refer to as a “dad joke.” I haven’t heard a line as terrible as that since my father passed. And I’d rather I never heard such a thing again…

A Knight: Please forgive me. Someone didn’t mean to stir up memories from your past. Someone deeply regrets having upset you so.

Oliver: Come now. It was a long time ago. I don’t really care much about it anymore, anyway.

A Knight: In that case, perhaps you might tell someone more about your father? Someone is quite interested in the previous Fogwalker.

Oliver: You want me to tell you about my father? I’d rather not. I can’t think of a single thing worth mentioning about him. He was an ordinary man, and the most ordinary Fogwalker… A Fogwalker who died in the fog. And a failure of a father. He hardly ever spent any time with my mother and me. Every single day, if he wasn’t busy working, he was studying the arcane. And it was only when discussing arcanism that he would display a demeanour alike to an arcanist. He spent his whole life studying and striving to push the arcane techniques of the Fog family forward, hoping to adapt them to the fog we now face in the modern era, but ultimately, it led him to his demise. Ironic, isn’t it? I can scarcely remember what he looked like anymore. The only thing about him that left any sort of lasting impression on me were those few “dad jokes” he made around the dinner table. Terrible, tasteless jokes.

A Knight: But he was a Fogwalker, and there was only one Fogwalker in all London.

Oliver: People have attached a great deal of import to the title “Fogwalker,” but in my opinion, a Fogwalker is not much different from a manure scooper. Devoting yourself or even sacrificing yourself for the sake of your so-called responsibilities… there is nothing more foolish in the entire world. I’ll never live my life the way my father did. He was bound by the title “Fogwalker,” but I won’t let that happen to me.

A Knight: You admire your father greatly. Someone can feel it.

Oliver: I do not… When I was a child, I wanted to become a Fogwalker too, so yes… maybe then I admired my father greatly. But things are different now. It’s only because he used to…

???: Wooooo!!!

Oliver: Damn it! How did these critters ever catch up with me?

Dark shadows rush out from the depths of the forest, encircling the area before there’s time to react. Yet more shadows emerge from the forest depths, like smoke spewing from factory chimneys, thick and relentless.

A Knight: It appears we’ve found ourselves in something of a predicament.

[lastweeksshirttonight]

welp

[sophsun1]

9-1-1 – 7.05: You Don't Know Me

[fallstaticexit]

Olive and Nancy set some rules for their arrangement.....We'll check on them some time later in the story to see how that's going ☝🏾🙂‍↕️

Prev / Next

Nancy VO: Rule Number One: I will always say yes.

Olive: I did want to look at a few cars...maybe a Bentley?

Nancy: Anything you like, darling.

Olive: Buttt, let’s stop at Ulta first.

Nancy: Lead the way.

Nancy VO: Rule Number Two: When I take trips, I’d like you to accompany me. All expenses paid, of course.

Nancy: Who’s this sweet girl?

Olive: Kia. She’s my main squeeze.

Nancy: Nice to meet you, Kia. I hope you enjoy the flight.

Olive VO: Rule Number Three: My private life is private. I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want to be in anyone’s tabloids, ok?

Olive VO: Last rule. Rule Number Four: No Sex. We should keep things professional.

Olive: Ugh. Can’t get this other heel strapped-

Nancy: Here, let me help you with that, darling.

Nancy: How does that feel? Does it feel good?

___

Nancy: Are you enjoying Tartosa?

Olive: Oh my god, I love it here! I wonder if anything could top this.

Nancy: I do like a challenge. I have a very nice trip planned that I think you’ll enjoy even more. We should get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.

Nancy: Well. Goodnight!

Olive: Yep. Goodnight.

[oliverstarksource]

[rowanraven08]

Trans guys with religious trauma gotta be one of my favorite flavors, I’m gobbling this man up

And yes I’m convinced he smokes. Does he have religious guilt over it? Yes. Do I even know if it was considered bad for a priest to smoke back then? Absolutely not. But he deserves a cigarette after all this shit