Something I didn't notice the first time I listened to this: when Breekon was speaking to Jon and Basira he kept pausing half sentence because normally they would switch back and forth and he wasn't used to having to say full sentences on his own. What an excellent touch.
1) I did not sign up for spooky delivery men feels 2) Basira: Jon don't go into the coffin. Jon: Go into the coffin? Me? Please, name one instance when I did smthn as dumb as that. Me: he's so gonna go into that coffin.
If my boy was still doing supplemental the minute she left the archives he'd just be like: supplemental, I got 500 metres of rope and five torches at asda. I'm going in
That part at the beginning where he cuts off his sentence and then finishes it himself awkwardly and sadly, still used to having Hope finish for him. you're NOT allowed to make me feel this sad about creepy delivery men. I wasn't expecting our monsters to be able to love. (They still had it coming for taunting Daisy. That was a stupid thing to do).
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, for some reason my brain just decided that he was talking that way because he was hurt and recovering. I was better off not connecting the dots correctly this time!
No fr, the second I heard the pause I was distraught, and the “not right on my own” 😭 like I know he’s a bad guy but I couldn’t imagine loosing my other half like that. Especially with how long they’ve been together
same honestly, although they were also really just terrible beings but still. man. (also uh,,, hi from leroy's server??? i did not expect to see anyone from there here sfjsfl;sjkf)
Yeah I feel for him... I mean they were awful and terrifying, but goddamn it must hurt :/ Story-wise I really like that even supernatural beings can feel loss and grief...
I live for when someone makes a joke and Basira doesn’t answer because I *_know_* she’s just staring at them with the most deadpan face on earth waiting for them to realize how stupid they sound
Could ask a hundred questions... What are you ? What are you going to do ? Do you have informations on any of the other rituals ? BUUUUT NOOOO WHAT IS YOU REAL ACCENT ????!!!! I swear Jon is such a nerd
Bille Deverre John is the absolute nerd. Like even before asking _why_ they were delivering things, the absolute madlad decided to go off on a tangent about his *fucking accent* that made my tiny single ADHD brain cell proud.
In a Q&A the writer said that while there is the mystical reason for jons reading that Jon also just likes beeing really dramatic - so theatre kid is still true
It's actually sad. Like a twin that lost his brother... I like Basira more and more, at least she's still talking with Jon. Also, is no one going to talk about how Jon just FELL OUT OF HIS CHAIR after ending the statement?
@@neos8421 Brothers can love each other too. Whatever headcanon you have is fine, and we don't have to fight over them! They could just be very attached siblings like Dipper and Mabel, or The Elric Brothers. Or they could just be two unrelated monsters in love! I think both interpretations are cute. Sibling love and romantic love are both very strong in their own ways.
I love the touch of Basira saying she was sent meet the “new boss” but she just stood alone in an office for an hour, because that is the boss now The Lonely
I honestly feel bad for Breekon, he lost his other half and doesn't know what to do with himself. It broke my heart when he spoke and paused, waiting for Hope to finish his sentence :(
Jon can harness the power of the eye to harm aspects of the stranger! Makes sense. Everyone worries about Jon's humanity, am I the only one who would be too excited by superpowers to worry about my mortal soul?
oh naw dude, same here - if I was student who heard one of the later recorded statements (especially the one where he jsut read an entire statement before realizing that it's written in French) I'd march my ass down there and demand to get in on the gig
Oh shit! I'm an idiot, I didn't even realize that's what was happening! I thought Jon's powers had just evolved to the point where he could rip statements out of people and, of course, that sounds like it hurts, but your thing makes way more sense. Of course an Avatar of The Stranger would hate having his soul read, having something Unknown becoming Known.
I honestly don't understand why would anyone be so hung up on staying human (whatever that is) when it's literally the worst possible position to be in when you have to deal with a bunch of supernatural shit
@@SadLizardPersonbeing human is like a privilege in this society, anything less than can be beaten and squashed and anything more than can be burned or worshiped unwarranted. Alienated. Especially prevalent with the people John is around, constantly seeing him only as a monster. Who would want to be this thing if everyone hates you for it. Jon’s human enough to feel the need to be what people want him to be and unhuman enough to be AWESOME.
I always kinda enjoyed when Breekon and Hope appeared/ got mentioned. This fucking ripped my heart apart. It absolutely killed me when he paused and had to finish his own sentence and it was the longest expression of grief from all episodes. I mean you could hear in every sentence how much he missed him.
What was that you were saying about Jon recording them to death, Elias? Also "He's lost. No partner, no purpose" Yeah... saying that to Basira's face Jon. Ouch.
not me feeling sorry for eldritch delivery husbands... also, Breekon literally refers to ANY human as "them". only fellow abominations seem to deserve gendered pronouns?? Jon is a badass but he LITERALLY FELL FROM THE CHAIR after reading the statement. Basira deserves all the respect and more, keep it up queen
@@horizonpenblade1288 I thought he referred to Daisy with masculine pronouns (not including John relaying the statement). The CC seems to support that. Then again, I've seen several examples of it being wrong, so... I'm not entirely sure.
Jon just keeps sighing and everyone's angry or trying to ignore him. Everyone's just... alone. I mean it sounds right since their boss is the avatar for The Lonely I guess...
That King from the first season who was completely untempted and very good and not opening the casket managed to fuck over multiple entities and make Bank. Slay.
Basira is such a badass tbh. Also I'm so glad Daisy is alive, not so much that she is trapped in a perpetual nightmare tho. Basira, go rescue your wife already!
I was already excited about this season because of the whole avatar Jon thing, but upon hearing "statement *extracted* from subject," I almost screamed
lukas' lonely vendetta really is working wonders huh. it's not just martin, everyone is distant. he even separated the departments, like basira said. i hate it✨
*Breekon* here was once human I believe. Being under the Stranger's control _would_ remove you of any inkling of identity, be it yours or anything else's. He's also further proof that patronage to multiple fears is possible. So... The Stranger is a delivery mechanism for all other fears, eh? Yeah, that makes sense in a psychological way. Losing all recognition is the perfect delivery method for fear.
Except we also know that there are other _things,_ other beings that exist. The vampires, the things that make up the Hive, the servants of the Spiral. I don’t think that everything we see has ever been human. We know that everything we see at least comes from the fears _of_ humans, but I don’t think too many of them ever were humans.
Idk if all of them are former humans either. The Strangers seem among the most inhuman ones and yet they thrive off mimicking and parodying people and sometimes other animals.
Was he actually ever human, though? There's really nothing suggesting he may have been human aside from his ability to feel sad about losing his partner.
Well... most of them were human once. A few non-human entities i can currently think of are the Ex Altiora Lightning creature, The Darkness beast that hunts the Montauks, Nikola, and to some degree, Michael/Helen the distortion. I say the distortion "wasnt human" because before Michael got snatched it was pretty much formless and probably even benign compared to the other fear creatures. Probably just snacked on a few dimwitted urban explorers in "haunted houses". The weird mechanism that lets it merge with the people that finds its heart is hard to explain, but I think its intentional. If the hallways represents the concept of a fixed, confined reality, the heart represents the truth. That reality is not walls and mirrors, things that can be felt, seen, touched, tasted, heard and experienced... Reality is just electrical impulses. An illusion to keep the mere mortals from ascending beyond their puny prisons of flesh and become.... well... whatever that thing is staring at you from behind the mirror. And so anyone who reaches the heart just becomes the hallway. Cos who needs lungs and a heart when you can have carpets and fancy wooden wall fixtures. *I call dibs on the Mahogany*
Totally agree with you two, though I have some suspicions Elias is going to try to convert Basira to something, Hunt or Slaughter I don't know, but he definitely wants something tied to a "violent" one to be a "defender", right?
Honestly I’m just super surprised that Elias is so chill with non-beholder babies working in the Institute. Literally a servant of The Lonely is leading them right now! Like what??? And every other assistant is basically serving some other non-Eye entity. The entities don’t seem to throw fits about exclusivity until folks reach avatar level, but still. It’s weird.
I stopped trusting her the minute we found out she started by lying to Jon. She has the asshole cop personality: everything is up to her, she doesn't have to prove anything, blatant unfairness. She has a sliver of humanity to not murder innocents, but her judgement is extremely narrow. Jon is no longer human, and therefore no longer an innocent. Which is horribly hypocritical, considering what her partner serves, and maybe her, according to the dreams they both had.
Can Jon get a breather from people being angry/suspicious at him for everything he does? Some polite sympathy at least? Not much, tbh I would be satisfied with a mere pat in the back after he does his best for the 1000 time. Anyway that was so badass.
@@f_mva to be fair, going to get her 'friend' would be like opening Pandoras box (a) it goes to the buried, whatever that means (b) they probably can't get her out (c) the person going to get her will be trapped as well (d) if they somehow get Daisy out, there probably won't be enough left of her for it to matter
Being a first time listener when the series is already finished is very much like having partial Archivist's powers: There are spoilers and foreshadowing lurking in every comment section and fan animation, but you don't fully register them. Except that then there is a plot twist and the thing that surprises you the most is your own lack of surprise, so you become aware that you already possessed knowledge of it. For instance, in this episode I was like "Sure, Daisy's alive and in a coffin, nothing strange here", then I had a double take when I realised I wasn't supposed to be so sure she was alive in the first place.
I was so worried for Jon these past few episodes, how he's acting so differently. But then he worked himself to passing out like... Yeah. Yeah, there's the best workaholic I know. Good job, Jon. Be that unhealthy stick of a man.
Why is nobody talking about how awesome Jon sounded when he used the cool Watcher voice. I'm gonna lose my mind. I've been repeating it for like ten minutes.
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] [SOME PAPERS RUSTLE.] BREEKON (low, dark) Don’t say a word. [MORE RUSTLING. THE DOOR OPENS, AND THE ARCHIVIST COMES IN.] BASIRA John. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie, quickly. ARCHIVIST It’s alright, Basira, I know he’s here. BASIRA So what are you doing? ARCHIVIST I imagine he’s here to deliver something. Thought it might need signing for. BREEKON That’s right. Just wanted to - to drop off a package. BASIRA Right, look, what the hell is this? Did you bring him here? ARCHIVIST No. BASIRA Is he here for revenge? ARCHIVIST I don’t - I don’t know. Ask him. BASIRA Like he’s going to answer me. ARCHIVIST Fine. (inhale) (to Breekon) Are you here for revenge? [AS HE ASKS THE QUESTION, A STATIC BUILDS IN THE BACKGROUND; THIS IS COMPULSION IN EFFECT.] BREEKON (heh) Yeah. Just like when we.. when I fed the copper to the pit. [BASIRA BRISTLES WITH A INCENSED BREATH.] ARCHIVIST Easy, Basira. [THE STATIC GETS STRONGER. A LOW RUMBLING BEGINS TO ACCOMPANY IT.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) What pit. BREEKON In here. [HE KNOCKS TWICE AGAINST BREEKON AND HOPE’S TRADEMARK COFFIN.] BREEKON (CONT’D) Realized I’m not tied- to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects like - BASIRA Daisy’s in there. BREEKON That’s its name? Then sure, ‘t’s in there, whatever’s left. Find out if you like. ARCHIVIST Would you please drop that ridiculous voice? BREEKON (terrible Russian accent) Apologies. Is preferred like so? ARCHIVIST Christ, that’s worse. [BREEKON LAUGHS, STILL IN THE “ACCENT.”] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) (with compulsion) What is your real voice? [BREEKON LAUGHS AGAIN, BACK TO THE ORIGINAL VOICE, THOUGH NOT AS DARKLY INTONED.] BREEKON Nikola said you were funny. Didn’t believe it. BASIRA What do you want. Why are you here? [SILENCE. THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.] ARCHIVIST (with compulsion) Why are you here? BREEKON Dunno. (pause) ‘S not right, on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now. (pause) Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So here’s a coffin. [HE SLIDES THE COFFIN CLOSER.] In case you want- to join your friend. [BASIRA TAKES A BREATH.] BASIRA Get out. ARCHIVIST Basira. [STATIC IS BUILDING IN THE BACKGROUND; THERE’S A STRANGE RUSTLING SORT OF SOUND.] BASIRA Get. Out. BREEKON Make me. [AND ALL AT ONCE THERE’S A STRANGE SOUND, MUSICAL YET HOLLOW, AND IT SEEMS TO BE BUILDING TO -] ARCHIVIST Stop. [THERE’S A NEW STATIC LAYERED ON TOP, NOW, HIGH-PITCHED - LIKE FEEDBACK FROM MICROPHONES TOO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER, BUT ANGELIC, SOMEHOW.] BREEKON What’re you doing? [NO ANSWER. THE STRANGE NEW STATIC COMBINATION CONTINUES; WHATEVER’S HAPPENING, WE HAVE NO CLUES AS TO ITS NATURE.] BASIRA John, what are you doing? BREEKON What are you - stop it. [THE STATIC BECOMES MORE INTENSE.]
BREEKON (CONT’D) Stop it! [WHEN THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS, IT HAS AN ECHO TO IT, REMINISCENT OF THE HOLLOWNESS FROM EARLIER:] ARCHIVIST No. [HE SAYS NOTHING FURTHER, BUT BREEKON BEGINS TO MAKE AN UNCOMFORTABLE, ALMOST CHOKING SOUND.] BREEKON E-Enough - stop - looking at me- [THE STATIC - FROM RUMBLING TO REGULAR STATIC TO FEEDBACK-GROWS EVEN STRONGER. BREEKON MAKES MORE GURGLING/CHOKING SOUNDS, AND THEN BEGINS TO YELL, BUT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY AFTER HE BEGINS, HIS VOICE BEGINS TO FADE. HIS SCREAM IS STILL CLEARLY AT HIGH INTENSITY; IT’S MORE AS IF SOMEONE TOOK THE KNOB CONTROLLING HIS VOLUME AND TURNED IT DOWN MID-YELL.] [SOMETHING MAKES A KNOCKING OR BANGING SORT OF SOUND AS THIS HAPPENS; IT’S POSSIBLE THAT BREEKON HAS BEEN PUSHED OUT THE DOOR.] [THE STATIC CONTINUES, AND THEN THE ARCHIVIST LETS OUT A SOFT GASP AND BEGINS BREATHING HARD, AS IF NEEDING AIR.] [HE TAKES ONE FINAL, STEADYING BREATH, AFTER WHICH THE STATIC BEGINS TO FADE.] BASIRA John? ARCHIVIST (quickly) It’s fine. (more himself) Get me a pen. Please. [HE TAKES A SHAKY BREATH.] [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] [INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] [THE ARCHIVIST TAKES A DEEP, STEADYING BREATH.] ARCHIVIST (clearing his throat) Mm - Statement of the surviving half of the being calling itself ‘Breekon and Hope’ regarding its.. existence. Statement… extracted from subject, 3rd March, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT) We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom. We had a cart of corpses, faces twisted, screaming, leaking pus. Knock on doors and cry roughly to bring their dead to us. I tended the shrunken, mangy mule, and he took the remains on shoulder, slinging them onto the stinking pile. I remember it clear. The fear on their faces as we rolled towards their hovels. Mud-caked peasant or bloated lord, every one of them saw us coming and trembled. It wasn’t the plague they feared; it wasn’t the death that waited in our wagon. It was us. Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half-remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us, anymore than they could hate the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them. What we might bring them. And we did. Villages that might have no bodies for us when we arrived would pile high our cart before we left. We did not kill them, did not lift a finger. We were the bringers of their awful fate, not its executors. They knew this and feared us in kind. And we drank it down, the taste of it sweeter than the food that now rotted on our plates or the drink that curdled in our cups. And we both tasted it together. When we left our destination, the mule whining at the new weight behind it, he would reach behind us and find a face, sagging, sloughing off its skull, and pull it to him. He’d place it over the one he wore already and he would laugh and laugh and laugh. Sometimes it fell off. Sometimes it stayed for weeks. I kept the face we chose, but I loved him for our levity. And the corpses piled ever higher. We served aboard the Robert Small, bodies of the time crammed into uniform as sloppily as anyone would expect. Enlistment wasn’t needed, nor was drafting. We were on the list for any crew that deserved us. And we were fitting deckhands for the Robert Small, as it made its slow and mournful passage to Australia. The quartermaster was too precise, though, and in counting out the rations saw us for what we were. I ate the quartermaster’s pen. He ate the quartermaster’s tongue. And that was that. The journey was magnificent. No waiting, no searching for a delivery. Every moment moved us towards, towards the completion of the task and the culmination of our charge’s terror. Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelties on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved. And towards everything they feared. That was the first time we saw what would become this place: The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it. A young man named Jack tried to leap overboard. When he caught the lad, there was such begging and pleading as you’ve never heard, just to let them drown, allow the sea to take its due. But he just laughed and laughed, and Jack died on land as he had always been meant to. We were conductors on a train, prim suits and scowls, a relentless beast of iron and steam that never seemed to get you exactly where you wanted to be unless there was something dreadful waiting for you. We punched tickets, ignored questions, and threw off those who looked like they were having too fine a time of it. We didn’t like this job, too many sat aboard dreaming sweetly of progress and the future, too few alive to the truth of dirt and struggle in front of them. We woke those we could, but too many stepped off with a smile. We had some luggage, once, a thrumming silk-wrapped thing of the spider, hiding away in an old steamer trunk. We stepped heavy through the dining car and found an old woman near the caboose. “Something strange in the luggage car,” he said, and I finished as was our way - “You should come and see it.” She stood and walked with us readily enough, though tears flowed silent down her cheeks and pattered onto the fading carpet. The Spider’s always an easy job, no fuss, no complications, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure. We knew she wouldn’t scream as she was hollowed out and drunk, but still he thought best to cover the sounds with a laugh. He was always our humor. (pause) I remember our first automobile, black and reliable, just about presentable for the London auction-houses we served. He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were, anymore than they knew what they were. And then we had a car. It was noisy, and it juddered, but the name on the wooden siding was respectable, and now it was ours and good enough for Sotheby’s. We moved a lot of things in those years. Some of them even harmless. My favorite was the old knife, rusted from the trenches and lied about by a barking auctioneer. We delivered it to a leering banker who knew the second they saw us what they’d done. Sweat dripped from under their bowler hat as they took the knife from its dented metal case and screamed. They lunged at me, stabbing me over and through, then moved on to him, but he just laughed as the blade went in and out and no blood flowed from the holes they cut. And when the banker had screamed all the curses they had learned from German gas attacks, the knife turned back again and cut them, piece by piece. We delivered it back to Christie’s, and that was the end of the auction jobs. Then were the good times, the circus times. We always take what jobs are before us, deliver whatever will bring that fear and misery, but there is no joy in carrying meat, in shifting writhing spiral things. But with the circus, we were among our own kind at last. They all had names, true enough, but none would dare pretend that names were real. Faces changed more often than clothes, and nobody truly knew who anybody was, save for their function within the show. We carried and lifted and helped the circus move towards its next destination, the next doomed town. Sometimes we joined the show, lifting weights and things that looks like animals. Sometimes we lifted members of the audience. Sometimes we even put them down again. Even in our stillness, people were afraid. The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air, the absence of our breath was clear for all to see. I could taste their discomfort. But none ever mentioned it. We didn’t like the puppet, when Orsinov began to carve it. It seemed wrong to us to try and bring one like us about, to create or remake it in such a solid, static shape. We were wrong, of course, and when Orsinov carved into the thing that had once called itself Grimaldi, and fed the pieces they didn’t need to the shuddering organist, even we found ourselves impressed. And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me and laughed and laughed. We followed her a while, but she was unpredictable, while we are things of point and purpose. When she lost the ancient skin, we went our separate ways, and found ourselves a lorry, long and dirty-grey. We drove the motorways and country roads, and took great crates of nothing to and fro, driving towards a different sort of terror. It wasn’t our cargo that brought fear, then. We brought fear to our cargo. Smiling, waiting patiently by the road, with cardboard signs of gentle hopes. In they went to the back, that silent heavy place, with boxes that seemed too big or too warm. They usually screamed as we drove and drove, fear thick in the air, and sometimes they died.
Some tried to leap from the back into the road, and one even made it through. Most stayed, getting weaker and weaker, their cries fading away as hunger and thirst and despair took their final hold. But we were not content. He didn’t laugh like he used to, driving aimless, waiting for the call sat badly with us, who were meant to know our destination. We were meant to have a cargo and an address, so it was we found a man named Breekon, and took everything they were until there was nothing left but the sweet taste of a broken soul’s disquiet and confusion. We took the van and started to deliver once again. But we were reckless, desperate for the surety we had not felt since leaving the circus. And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for death to find you there, within its mocking shape, buried alive. It was one like us that found it, a thing of shifting names and deja-vu. A fool, that believed because it found the coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed, and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master. No face to change in the cold, dark earth, no eye to fool where it is now. But there was no mention of us in the deal, no thought to what might happen should a victim pass the test. And what happened was: we were stuck with it. It was still our cargo, nowhere to take it, no address or destination. So back in the van it went. A long time we’ve carried it, keeping it as close as it wants, not listening to it sing in the rain. Even when the mannequin that now called itself Orsinov came back to us, told us we could help the world unknow and fear again the coming of strangers, still we had to drag it with us, an unclaimed package. But I suppose it was worth it, in the end. When that Hunter killed him, when she took her violence of mindless instinct and unleashed it on us, it was there. It was waiting. I fed her to it. She took him from me, made us a me. And she doesn’t get to die for that. She gets to live, trapped and helpless, and entombed forever. No prey, no hunt. No movement. We failed, but I have at least that comfort. I am without him now. I am. I can feel myself fading, weak, no reason to move, nothing to deliver. But I am no longer tied to the casket, so you can have it. You can stare at it, knowing how your feral friend suffers, knowing how powerless you are to help. And when you can’t bear it any longer, knowing that you can climb in, and join her. I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you. ARCHIVIST (voice shaky) Statement.. ends. [HE COLLAPSES.] [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] [INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE, A BIT LATER] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] [THE ARCHIVIST INHALES.] BASIRA Here. [SHE SETS A CUP DOWN.] ARCHIVIST Thank you. [HE PICKS UP THE CUP.] BASIRA Was it worth it? ARCHIVIST I - I don’t know. Maybe? BASIRA Did you at least learn anything? [PAUSE.] ARCHIVIST Daisy’s alive, in there. BASIRA Right. ARCHIVIST Basira, we- we can’t [open-] BASIRA Yeah, I can read. [PAUSE.] ARCHIVIST Right. Short pause. BASIRA So why give it to us? ARCHIVIST I don’t- I don’t know. T-to taunt us? To (inhale) lure us in as well? [HE SIGHS.] BASIRA Hm. ARCHIVIST I-I saw that - thing’s mind; it’s lost on it’s own, no partner, no - purpose, I-I-I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery. BASIRA And there’s no chance more of the circus survived the explosion? ARCHIVIST I don’t think so. I - at least - Breekon didn’t think so. [HE SIGHS.] BASIRA Where does the coffin lead? ARCHIVIST The Buried. BASIRA Right. [SILENCE.] BASIRA (CONT’D) (inhale, set) Right. Keep it safe; I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up. [WE HEAR THE RUSTLING OF HER MOVING AS SHE’S SPEAKING.] ARCHIVIST Sorry? BASIRA You heard me. Don’t ask about them. And don’t know about them either. ARCHIVIST Well, I can’t exactly control that. BASIRA (cutting him off) Learn. ARCHIVIST (sighing) I’ll do my best. (breath) You can trust me, Basira. BASIRA Stop saying that. [SILENCE.] BASIRA (CONT’D) Do you know how I survived that-the Unknowing? ARCHIVIST I… No. No I don’t. BASIRA No powers, no.. magic or help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did, a little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out, I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare. ARCHIVIST Good Lord. BASIRA Then everything ended and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute and Martin sent me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than an hour. I can trust me, John. That’s it. [THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.] BASIRA (CONT’D) I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me. ARCHIVIST Right. BASIRA And don’t open the coffin. [THE ARCHIVIST LAUGHS DRYLY.] ARCHIVIST It is addressed to me, (silence) (somber) Yes, alright. Alright. TAPE CLICKS OFF.
It's kind of fitting that Breekon is the one who survived, since in the real Breekon & Hope company Hope wasn't a real person, the real Breekon just really wanted to name the company "Breekon & [something]"
Much has been lost. Each time I wait and listen, but it is gone. Why did it go? There is emptiness. No longer does he ever say "Tweet us on Twittah." The world is diminished.
I don't know how many episodes he's been doing it for but as I make my way through the series, I just spotted on this episode that Jon has stopped calling himself Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London and now just calls himself Archivist. The way characters start their statements has such a fun insight into their character (like how excited Martin is when he reads out the case number) but seeing Jon abandon the mundanity for the resigned, sullen acceptance of his departure from normal positions like a job is both worrying and heartbreaking.
Its been every statement so far this season, and I think thats when he started - an effect of his return from the near-dead, he has accepted his role as the archivist.
Okay so, it was already pretty obvious that the Lonely was getting Martin isolated, but I think it's actually doing the same to Basira. I think the goal is to get everyone at the institute to separate themselves from one another, perhaps as a self-powering battery of loneliness energy or some such? Without trust, the isolation sustains itself
Supplemental: A year later and I feel like a dumbass for this original statement. Elias straight up said Daisy was "mad with the Hunt" and B&H were in the f*ing Unknowing. But, I suppose that's why I'm doing a relisten after all this time. Paying more attention and whatnot.
who was trying to control the casket? I remember, in the first casket episode, that the dude who kept it had made an arrangement with another man but I have no idea who it might have been. that antiques dealer, salesa? he didn't die though, like Breekon said. hmmm
I checked, wondering the same thing as you : it's an old man "with an odd density to him", who introduced himself as John ( if I got that part right of course) ; maybe just a fool wanting to have fun with the casket but who just got eaten, maybe to become an avatar for the Buried... SUSPENS
Jon using his powers is just about the most exciting thing to listen to EVER. The high pitched sound, the pained cries of Breekon… beautifully rendered, incredibly cool.
They have explained before how the parts of each fear are instinct based, but it's interesting how they both knew what they were supposed to be and NEEDED to be it, to the point Breekon fell back on their last delivery to take the coffin too.
Just watched an animatic of ep 101 bloopers where breekon and hope go to boots before watching this and now I'm even sadder than I would've been if I just watched this ep itself
18:03 I'm on my second listen through but I'm really concerned because THIS is the moment I realized I can recognize Jon just by his breathing? Like that's really ominous and I'm kind of scared?
That dude from the first few episodes who did everything he could to not open that casket SUCCESSFULLY is still smartest victim in the whole series.
Key in ice bowl was ingenious.
Yes, but I'm still weak for the ones who survived purely on being too unobservant or distracted to notice.
Nanahuatli Karolina gorka and that plumber were MVPs
Still one of my favorite episodes because of that. Love the surprise when they saw him still alive lol
Especially since it moans everytime it rains. Which is apparently everyday in England.
John: *yoinking out a statement from Breekon’s mind*
Basira: “right in front of my salad?”
Something I didn't notice the first time I listened to this: when Breekon was speaking to Jon and Basira he kept pausing half sentence because normally they would switch back and forth and he wasn't used to having to say full sentences on his own. What an excellent touch.
OMG :'(
YES that part made me so sad. This series is amazing with the little details.
1) I did not sign up for spooky delivery men feels
2) Basira: Jon don't go into the coffin.
Jon: Go into the coffin? Me? Please, name one instance when I did smthn as dumb as that.
Me: he's so gonna go into that coffin.
not like the next episode is called submerged or any thing. Nothing could go wrong. Everything is fine
throwback to when he destroyed the table LMAO
If my boy was still doing supplemental the minute she left the archives he'd just be like: supplemental, I got 500 metres of rope and five torches at asda. I'm going in
@@a_jae_doeFUCKING ASDA YOU GENIUS XD
Nah, nah, not like he has a mania for not losing people and no discernable self-preservation instincts. It'll be fine
That part at the beginning where he cuts off his sentence and then finishes it himself awkwardly and sadly, still used to having Hope finish for him. you're NOT allowed to make me feel this sad about creepy delivery men. I wasn't expecting our monsters to be able to love.
(They still had it coming for taunting Daisy. That was a stupid thing to do).
That's right. Just wanted t- To drop off a package
NO BECAUSE AS SOON AS I HEARD THAT LITTLE PAUSE AND HURT IN HIS VOICE WHEN HE CONTINUED,, I STARTED TO TEAR UP
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, for some reason my brain just decided that he was talking that way because he was hurt and recovering. I was better off not connecting the dots correctly this time!
1:49
No fr, the second I heard the pause I was distraught, and the “not right on my own” 😭 like I know he’s a bad guy but I couldn’t imagine loosing my other half like that. Especially with how long they’ve been together
Y'all mind if I'm sad over two eldritch delivery men?
I am as well, I don't mind
he lost his eldritch husband :(
yeah but holy shit, john is evolving his powers, and its bad ass
same honestly, although they were also really just terrible beings but still. man.
(also uh,,, hi from leroy's server??? i did not expect to see anyone from there here sfjsfl;sjkf)
Yeah I feel for him... I mean they were awful and terrifying, but goddamn it must hurt :/
Story-wise I really like that even supernatural beings can feel loss and grief...
I live for when someone makes a joke and Basira doesn’t answer because I *_know_* she’s just staring at them with the most deadpan face on earth waiting for them to realize how stupid they sound
jon really yanked that statement out huh...iconic
"Mind if I borrow that for a while?" * yoinks out a piece of your memory *
he really TOOK his statement lmao
The successor of Gertrude indeed
Eye-conic
"statement... *extracted* from subject"
So what you're saying is.... it lost Hope?
You, my friend, are a genius
This is exactly what I though
This is the best TMA themed pun so far!
Bruhhhhhh
They made the joke/observation in lore & now I'm wondering if they did it because of this comment
I can't believe Breekon and Hope were the "BRING OUT YOUR DEAD" guys
I'm choosing to believe that one of them was the one from monty python
I WAS THINKING THIS TOO XD
"I'm not dead yet..."
@@stephenderry9488 You're not fooling anyone you know...
Could ask a hundred questions... What are you ? What are you going to do ? Do you have informations on any of the other rituals ? BUUUUT NOOOO
WHAT IS YOU REAL ACCENT ????!!!! I swear Jon is such a nerd
Bille Deverre John is the absolute nerd. Like even before asking _why_ they were delivering things, the absolute madlad decided to go off on a tangent about his *fucking accent* that made my tiny single ADHD brain cell proud.
Didnt even get an answer lmao what a dweeb
he just wanted to know what accent to read the statement in obviously
I think Strangers have that effect on him. He asked a similar question to Nickola
@@Falcon-doing-doodles you dont... sound russian ?
Me over here, just looking at everyone in season 1 being like "I love how Jon puts on the voice, like a drama boy"
I mean, it’s not DISPROVED that he’s a theater nerd...
In a Q&A the writer said that while there is the mystical reason for jons reading that Jon also just likes beeing really dramatic - so theatre kid is still true
Ooh. OH NO
I feel attacked lol
simpler times
This was just really sad honestly...for all parties involved.
Everyone is very Alone this season...
Peter lukas: 😳
peter lukas is hungry >.>
It's not Peter Lukas fault it's The Sad
Oh I see what you did there!
**finger guns**
Ha... ha... um, where did this fog come from?
Guess you could say they're all... Lonely
It's actually sad. Like a twin that lost his brother... I like Basira more and more, at least she's still talking with Jon. Also, is no one going to talk about how Jon just FELL OUT OF HIS CHAIR after ending the statement?
I was looking for this.
Probably because he pulled it out
"brothers"
they're in love you modern day historian :p
sorry for being mean
@@neos8421 Brothers can love each other too. Whatever headcanon you have is fine, and we don't have to fight over them!
They could just be very attached siblings like Dipper and Mabel, or The Elric Brothers. Or they could just be two unrelated monsters in love! I think both interpretations are cute. Sibling love and romantic love are both very strong in their own ways.
Now I feel bad for these monster delivery guys. But I also really like it, when Jon uses his powers like this
After hearing all they've done I find it pretty hard to feel bad for them.
The breekon and hope guys are like a stranger pair but they're like Tweedle Doom and Tweedle Don't.
_Tweedle Doom and Tweedle Don’t_
They remind me so much of those two bad guys in Gaiman‘s „Neverwhere“ (who definitely were in a relationship too btw)
hI$JKN#QEWUIJKN@QEWJKNdiujkn2`
Sharing this comment everywhere I can.
I'm now going to refer them as that.
I love the touch of Basira saying she was sent meet the “new boss” but she just stood alone in an office for an hour, because that is the boss now The Lonely
I honestly feel bad for Breekon, he lost his other half and doesn't know what to do with himself. It broke my heart when he spoke and paused, waiting for Hope to finish his sentence :(
Jon can harness the power of the eye to harm aspects of the stranger! Makes sense. Everyone worries about Jon's humanity, am I the only one who would be too excited by superpowers to worry about my mortal soul?
No, I completely understand you. Me too tbh
oh naw dude, same here - if I was student who heard one of the later recorded statements (especially the one where he jsut read an entire statement before realizing that it's written in French) I'd march my ass down there and demand to get in on the gig
Oh shit! I'm an idiot, I didn't even realize that's what was happening! I thought Jon's powers had just evolved to the point where he could rip statements out of people and, of course, that sounds like it hurts, but your thing makes way more sense. Of course an Avatar of The Stranger would hate having his soul read, having something Unknown becoming Known.
I honestly don't understand why would anyone be so hung up on staying human (whatever that is) when it's literally the worst possible position to be in when you have to deal with a bunch of supernatural shit
@@SadLizardPersonbeing human is like a privilege in this society, anything less than can be beaten and squashed and anything more than can be burned or worshiped unwarranted. Alienated. Especially prevalent with the people John is around, constantly seeing him only as a monster. Who would want to be this thing if everyone hates you for it. Jon’s human enough to feel the need to be what people want him to be and unhuman enough to be AWESOME.
Statement of remaining half of the being that calls itself breekon and hope... What a sentence!
Statement...
_E X T R A C T E D._
Imagine being an icon like Basira. What an absolute legend.
@Lana Douberly honestly
u've got a point, she's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. now, cmon now
-wendy williams
She's kind of a prick
I always kinda enjoyed when Breekon and Hope appeared/ got mentioned. This fucking ripped my heart apart. It absolutely killed me when he paused and had to finish his own sentence and it was the longest expression of grief from all episodes. I mean you could hear in every sentence how much he missed him.
I really thought Breekon and Hope would last through the entire series. Everyone is lonely in this season.
@@littleintrovert7469 everyone is lonely and suffers 😔
@@littleintrovert7469 figures. I blame Peter.
What was that you were saying about Jon recording them to death, Elias?
Also "He's lost. No partner, no purpose" Yeah... saying that to Basira's face Jon. Ouch.
Knowledge doesn't mean understanding. :P
not me feeling sorry for eldritch delivery husbands... also, Breekon literally refers to ANY human as "them". only fellow abominations seem to deserve gendered pronouns??
Jon is a badass but he LITERALLY FELL FROM THE CHAIR after reading the statement. Basira deserves all the respect and more, keep it up queen
anbas (assinged nonbinary by Stranger)
Didn't he refer to Daisy as an 'it' in this one?
@@horizonpenblade1288gender neutral terminology (derogatory)
Unless you wanna go by it/its then that's totally cool :D
@@horizonpenblade1288 I thought he referred to Daisy with masculine pronouns (not including John relaying the statement). The CC seems to support that. Then again, I've seen several examples of it being wrong, so... I'm not entirely sure.
I love how you can just *hear* Basira looking at Jon after his "It is addressed to -me-"
👏 👏 👏 👏
𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧*
Basira has the strongest of any TMA character. She would make a great Green Lantern.
i just realized now that i missed the word Will and most people still got what i meant...
Arif Hossain you can edit comments
I thought you meant physically strongest at first and was a bit confused at the Green Lantern comment
"I ate the quartermaster's pen. He ate the quartermaster's tongue. And that was that."
Okidoki!
Breekon mentions Hope’s laugh a lot.. he must’ve really loved that laughter…
No Homo, The magnus archives episode
Two bros, chilling in a delivery van, not five feet apart cause they're quite gay
I figured they were sort of twins
@@io_online Aren't twins locked in a perpetual state of being platonically gay for each other?
@@io_online twin flames ofc
basira is like "dont KNOW stuff ok" and then shes like "do you KNOW how i got out?!" bruh what why would you ask that
Catch me crying in the club about sad eldritch delivery man angsting about his dead boyfriend
*husband
Jon just keeps sighing and everyone's angry or trying to ignore him. Everyone's just... alone. I mean it sounds right since their boss is the avatar for The Lonely I guess...
That King from the first season who was completely untempted and very good and not opening the casket managed to fuck over multiple entities and make Bank. Slay.
The sound editing around Jon when he said "Stop." and "No." Goddamn.
[BREEKON VOICE] i miss my husband, archivist. i miss him a lot. ill be back
they felt more like brothers than husbands tbh
Is that a SnapCube Eggman reference 😂😂
Basira is such a badass tbh. Also I'm so glad Daisy is alive, not so much that she is trapped in a perpetual nightmare tho. Basira, go rescue your wife already!
I was already excited about this season because of the whole avatar Jon thing, but upon hearing "statement *extracted* from subject," I almost screamed
*Jon slides papers off his desk.* "Who needs this _parchment_ anyway, huh??"
lukas' lonely vendetta really is working wonders huh. it's not just martin, everyone is distant. he even separated the departments, like basira said. i hate it✨
I literally just commented last ep that Jon was disadvantaged in powers and he just fricken killed a man
Nah, Breekon's alive.
*Breekon* here was once human I believe. Being under the Stranger's control _would_ remove you of any inkling of identity, be it yours or anything else's. He's also further proof that patronage to multiple fears is possible.
So... The Stranger is a delivery mechanism for all other fears, eh? Yeah, that makes sense in a psychological way. Losing all recognition is the perfect delivery method for fear.
Ooh nicely worded
Except we also know that there are other _things,_ other beings that exist. The vampires, the things that make up the Hive, the servants of the Spiral. I don’t think that everything we see has ever been human. We know that everything we see at least comes from the fears _of_ humans, but I don’t think too many of them ever were humans.
Idk if all of them are former humans either. The Strangers seem among the most inhuman ones and yet they thrive off mimicking and parodying people and sometimes other animals.
Was he actually ever human, though? There's really nothing suggesting he may have been human aside from his ability to feel sad about losing his partner.
Well... most of them were human once. A few non-human entities i can currently think of are the Ex Altiora Lightning creature, The Darkness beast that hunts the Montauks, Nikola, and to some degree, Michael/Helen the distortion. I say the distortion "wasnt human" because before Michael got snatched it was pretty much formless and probably even benign compared to the other fear creatures. Probably just snacked on a few dimwitted urban explorers in "haunted houses". The weird mechanism that lets it merge with the people that finds its heart is hard to explain, but I think its intentional. If the hallways represents the concept of a fixed, confined reality, the heart represents the truth. That reality is not walls and mirrors, things that can be felt, seen, touched, tasted, heard and experienced... Reality is just electrical impulses. An illusion to keep the mere mortals from ascending beyond their puny prisons of flesh and become.... well... whatever that thing is staring at you from behind the mirror. And so anyone who reaches the heart just becomes the hallway. Cos who needs lungs and a heart when you can have carpets and fancy wooden wall fixtures. *I call dibs on the Mahogany*
amazing how Jon emulated the delivery man's voice
Heavy goods. Yeah that's my ass' name
i was looking for a comment about that line
you really made me feel sorry for an eldritch delivery man huh
Jon must really feel so so alone, and it puts a sad little knot in the pit of my stomach :(
We lost a Melanie and we're gonna gain back a Daisy. Hunt is easier to control than Slaughter anyway.
@Arif Hossain I want Tim back tho
Totally agree with you two, though I have some suspicions Elias is going to try to convert Basira to something, Hunt or Slaughter I don't know, but he definitely wants something tied to a "violent" one to be a "defender", right?
@@itstictac2825 i am all caught up and let me tell you in the least spoilery way possible... basira and daisy are like... identical in power level.
Honestly I’m just super surprised that Elias is so chill with non-beholder babies working in the Institute. Literally a servant of The Lonely is leading them right now! Like what??? And every other assistant is basically serving some other non-Eye entity. The entities don’t seem to throw fits about exclusivity until folks reach avatar level, but still. It’s weird.
@Tyler ASW Hunters in theory can work for all the powers since the hunt isn’t really focused on a ritual.
bro I just realised..... Basira is the only one who isn't marked by any entity, I really hope it stays the same
Basira "I can trust ME not YOU Jon" haring off on Elias' word is quite the sight
I stopped trusting her the minute we found out she started by lying to Jon. She has the asshole cop personality: everything is up to her, she doesn't have to prove anything, blatant unfairness. She has a sliver of humanity to not murder innocents, but her judgement is extremely narrow. Jon is no longer human, and therefore no longer an innocent. Which is horribly hypocritical, considering what her partner serves, and maybe her, according to the dreams they both had.
New power discovered: AGGRESSIVE EYE CONTACT?????
I could feel the look Jon got at the end 😂
A healthy dose of prolonged eye contact.
bruhhh Jon using his powers like that sent a chill down my spine
also did he just collapse in his chair when he finished? ;-;
He might have fallen off entirely, poor dude
Yep
He's so fine and I'm tired of pretending he's not
That was the saddest "I am," that I have ever fucking heard.
when some cop kills ur "homie" so u imprison her forever in a torture casket
they said no homo though, right?
'he ate the quartermasters tongue'
o. o diD hE?
“Eating tongue” sounds like slang for French kissing to me
finally our bro's the delivery service dudes get a backstory! They've been with us since episode 3 amiright
Episode 2.... But yes
Can Jon get a breather from people being angry/suspicious at him for everything he does? Some polite sympathy at least?
Not much, tbh I would be satisfied with a mere pat in the back after he does his best for the 1000 time.
Anyway that was so badass.
Even Georgie left him. :(
jon: hey i used my freaky powers that im deathly afraid of to get more info on where your friend is
basira: ok. fuck you. don't talk to me
@@f_mva to be fair, going to get her 'friend' would be like opening Pandoras box
(a) it goes to the buried, whatever that means
(b) they probably can't get her out
(c) the person going to get her will be trapped as well
(d) if they somehow get Daisy out, there probably won't be enough left of her for it to matter
Being a first time listener when the series is already finished is very much like having partial Archivist's powers:
There are spoilers and foreshadowing lurking in every comment section and fan animation, but you don't fully register them. Except that then there is a plot twist and the thing that surprises you the most is your own lack of surprise, so you become aware that you already possessed knowledge of it.
For instance, in this episode I was like "Sure, Daisy's alive and in a coffin, nothing strange here", then I had a double take when I realised I wasn't supposed to be so sure she was alive in the first place.
Or how I suddenly glimpsed that Tim was going to be the one budgeted (perma-)death of last season, but not knowing the how or when
Jonny Sims you did NOT have the right to make me cry over the Sad Creepy Deliverymen. Now I want fanfic.
oh... breekon is without hope...
Breeken lost his Hope... something kinda strangely sad about that.
I was so worried for Jon these past few episodes, how he's acting so differently. But then he worked himself to passing out like... Yeah. Yeah, there's the best workaholic I know. Good job, Jon. Be that unhealthy stick of a man.
YES JON WE STAN A POWER ICON
Why is nobody talking about how awesome Jon sounded when he used the cool Watcher voice. I'm gonna lose my mind. I've been repeating it for like ten minutes.
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES]
[TAPE CLICKS ON.]
[SOME PAPERS RUSTLE.]
BREEKON
(low, dark) Don’t say a word.
[MORE RUSTLING. THE DOOR OPENS, AND THE ARCHIVIST COMES IN.]
BASIRA
John. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie, quickly.
ARCHIVIST
It’s alright, Basira, I know he’s here.
BASIRA
So what are you doing?
ARCHIVIST
I imagine he’s here to deliver something. Thought it might need signing for.
BREEKON
That’s right. Just wanted to - to drop off a package.
BASIRA
Right, look, what the hell is this? Did you bring him here?
ARCHIVIST
No.
BASIRA
Is he here for revenge?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t - I don’t know. Ask him.
BASIRA
Like he’s going to answer me.
ARCHIVIST
Fine. (inhale)
(to Breekon) Are you here for revenge?
[AS HE ASKS THE QUESTION, A STATIC BUILDS IN THE BACKGROUND; THIS IS COMPULSION IN EFFECT.]
BREEKON
(heh) Yeah. Just like when we.. when I fed the copper to the pit.
[BASIRA BRISTLES WITH A INCENSED BREATH.]
ARCHIVIST
Easy, Basira.
[THE STATIC GETS STRONGER. A LOW RUMBLING BEGINS TO ACCOMPANY IT.]
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
What pit.
BREEKON
In here.
[HE KNOCKS TWICE AGAINST BREEKON AND HOPE’S TRADEMARK COFFIN.]
BREEKON (CONT’D)
Realized I’m not tied- to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects like -
BASIRA
Daisy’s in there.
BREEKON
That’s its name? Then sure, ‘t’s in there, whatever’s left. Find out if you like.
ARCHIVIST
Would you please drop that ridiculous voice?
BREEKON
(terrible Russian accent) Apologies. Is preferred like so?
ARCHIVIST
Christ, that’s worse.
[BREEKON LAUGHS, STILL IN THE “ACCENT.”]
ARCHIVIST (CONT’D)
(with compulsion) What is your real voice?
[BREEKON LAUGHS AGAIN, BACK TO THE ORIGINAL VOICE, THOUGH NOT AS DARKLY INTONED.]
BREEKON
Nikola said you were funny. Didn’t believe it.
BASIRA
What do you want. Why are you here?
[SILENCE. THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.]
ARCHIVIST
(with compulsion) Why are you here?
BREEKON
Dunno.
(pause) ‘S not right, on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now. (pause) Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So here’s a coffin.
[HE SLIDES THE COFFIN CLOSER.]
In case you want- to join your friend.
[BASIRA TAKES A BREATH.]
BASIRA
Get out.
ARCHIVIST
Basira.
[STATIC IS BUILDING IN THE BACKGROUND; THERE’S A STRANGE RUSTLING SORT OF SOUND.]
BASIRA
Get. Out.
BREEKON
Make me.
[AND ALL AT ONCE THERE’S A STRANGE SOUND, MUSICAL YET HOLLOW, AND IT SEEMS TO BE BUILDING TO -]
ARCHIVIST
Stop.
[THERE’S A NEW STATIC LAYERED ON TOP, NOW, HIGH-PITCHED - LIKE FEEDBACK FROM MICROPHONES TOO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER, BUT ANGELIC, SOMEHOW.]
BREEKON
What’re you doing?
[NO ANSWER. THE STRANGE NEW STATIC COMBINATION CONTINUES; WHATEVER’S HAPPENING, WE HAVE NO CLUES AS TO ITS NATURE.]
BASIRA
John, what are you doing?
BREEKON
What are you - stop it.
[THE STATIC BECOMES MORE INTENSE.]
BREEKON (CONT’D)
Stop it!
[WHEN THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS, IT HAS AN ECHO TO IT, REMINISCENT OF THE HOLLOWNESS FROM EARLIER:]
ARCHIVIST
No.
[HE SAYS NOTHING FURTHER, BUT BREEKON BEGINS TO MAKE AN UNCOMFORTABLE, ALMOST CHOKING SOUND.]
BREEKON
E-Enough - stop - looking at me-
[THE STATIC - FROM RUMBLING TO REGULAR STATIC TO FEEDBACK-GROWS EVEN STRONGER. BREEKON MAKES MORE GURGLING/CHOKING SOUNDS, AND THEN BEGINS TO YELL, BUT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY AFTER HE BEGINS, HIS VOICE BEGINS TO FADE. HIS SCREAM IS STILL CLEARLY AT HIGH INTENSITY; IT’S MORE AS IF SOMEONE TOOK THE KNOB CONTROLLING HIS VOLUME AND TURNED IT DOWN MID-YELL.]
[SOMETHING MAKES A KNOCKING OR BANGING SORT OF SOUND AS THIS HAPPENS; IT’S POSSIBLE THAT BREEKON HAS BEEN PUSHED OUT THE DOOR.]
[THE STATIC CONTINUES, AND THEN THE ARCHIVIST LETS OUT A SOFT GASP AND BEGINS BREATHING HARD, AS IF NEEDING AIR.]
[HE TAKES ONE FINAL, STEADYING BREATH, AFTER WHICH THE STATIC BEGINS TO FADE.]
BASIRA
John?
ARCHIVIST
(quickly) It’s fine. (more himself) Get me a pen. Please.
[HE TAKES A SHAKY BREATH.]
[TAPE CLICKS OFF.]
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE]
[TAPE CLICKS ON.]
[THE ARCHIVIST TAKES A DEEP, STEADYING BREATH.]
ARCHIVIST
(clearing his throat) Mm - Statement of the surviving half of the being calling itself ‘Breekon and Hope’ regarding its.. existence. Statement… extracted from subject, 3rd March, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom. We had a cart of corpses, faces twisted, screaming, leaking pus. Knock on doors and cry roughly to bring their dead to us. I tended the shrunken, mangy mule, and he took the remains on shoulder, slinging them onto the stinking pile.
I remember it clear. The fear on their faces as we rolled towards their hovels. Mud-caked peasant or bloated lord, every one of them saw us coming and trembled. It wasn’t the plague they feared; it wasn’t the death that waited in our wagon. It was us. Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half-remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us, anymore than they could hate the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them. What we might bring them.
And we did. Villages that might have no bodies for us when we arrived would pile high our cart before we left. We did not kill them, did not lift a finger. We were the bringers of their awful fate, not its executors. They knew this and feared us in kind. And we drank it down, the taste of it sweeter than the food that now rotted on our plates or the drink that curdled in our cups. And we both tasted it together.
When we left our destination, the mule whining at the new weight behind it, he would reach behind us and find a face, sagging, sloughing off its skull, and pull it to him. He’d place it over the one he wore already and he would laugh and laugh and laugh. Sometimes it fell off. Sometimes it stayed for weeks. I kept the face we chose, but I loved him for our levity. And the corpses piled ever higher.
We served aboard the Robert Small, bodies of the time crammed into uniform as sloppily as anyone would expect. Enlistment wasn’t needed, nor was drafting. We were on the list for any crew that deserved us. And we were fitting deckhands for the Robert Small, as it made its slow and mournful passage to Australia. The quartermaster was too precise, though, and in counting out the rations saw us for what we were. I ate the quartermaster’s pen. He ate the quartermaster’s tongue. And that was that.
The journey was magnificent. No waiting, no searching for a delivery. Every moment moved us towards, towards the completion of the task and the culmination of our charge’s terror. Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelties on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved. And towards everything they feared.
That was the first time we saw what would become this place: The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it.
A young man named Jack tried to leap overboard. When he caught the lad, there was such begging and pleading as you’ve never heard, just to let them drown, allow the sea to take its due. But he just laughed and laughed, and Jack died on land as he had always been meant to.
We were conductors on a train, prim suits and scowls, a relentless beast of iron and steam that never seemed to get you exactly where you wanted to be unless there was something dreadful waiting for you. We punched tickets, ignored questions, and threw off those who looked like they were having too fine a time of it. We didn’t like this job, too many sat aboard dreaming sweetly of progress and the future, too few alive to the truth of dirt and struggle in front of them. We woke those we could, but too many stepped off with a smile.
We had some luggage, once, a thrumming silk-wrapped thing of the spider, hiding away in an old steamer trunk. We stepped heavy through the dining car and found an old woman near the caboose. “Something strange in the luggage car,” he said, and I finished as was our way - “You should come and see it.” She stood and walked with us readily enough, though tears flowed silent down her cheeks and pattered onto the fading carpet.
The Spider’s always an easy job, no fuss, no complications, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure. We knew she wouldn’t scream as she was hollowed out and drunk, but still he thought best to cover the sounds with a laugh. He was always our humor. (pause) I remember our first automobile, black and reliable, just about presentable for the London auction-houses we served. He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were, anymore than they knew what they were.
And then we had a car. It was noisy, and it juddered, but the name on the wooden siding was respectable, and now it was ours and good enough for Sotheby’s. We moved a lot of things in those years. Some of them even harmless. My favorite was the old knife, rusted from the trenches and lied about by a barking auctioneer. We delivered it to a leering banker who knew the second they saw us what they’d done.
Sweat dripped from under their bowler hat as they took the knife from its dented metal case and screamed. They lunged at me, stabbing me over and through, then moved on to him, but he just laughed as the blade went in and out and no blood flowed from the holes they cut. And when the banker had screamed all the curses they had learned from German gas attacks, the knife turned back again and cut them, piece by piece. We delivered it back to Christie’s, and that was the end of the auction jobs.
Then were the good times, the circus times. We always take what jobs are before us, deliver whatever will bring that fear and misery, but there is no joy in carrying meat, in shifting writhing spiral things. But with the circus, we were among our own kind at last. They all had names, true enough, but none would dare pretend that names were real. Faces changed more often than clothes, and nobody truly knew who anybody was, save for their function within the show. We carried and lifted and helped the circus move towards its next destination, the next doomed town. Sometimes we joined the show, lifting weights and things that looks like animals. Sometimes we lifted members of the audience. Sometimes we even put them down again.
Even in our stillness, people were afraid. The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air, the absence of our breath was clear for all to see. I could taste their discomfort. But none ever mentioned it. We didn’t like the puppet, when Orsinov began to carve it. It seemed wrong to us to try and bring one like us about, to create or remake it in such a solid, static shape.
We were wrong, of course, and when Orsinov carved into the thing that had once called itself Grimaldi, and fed the pieces they didn’t need to the shuddering organist, even we found ourselves impressed. And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me and laughed and laughed.
We followed her a while, but she was unpredictable, while we are things of point and purpose. When she lost the ancient skin, we went our separate ways, and found ourselves a lorry, long and dirty-grey. We drove the motorways and country roads, and took great crates of nothing to and fro, driving towards a different sort of terror. It wasn’t our cargo that brought fear, then. We brought fear to our cargo. Smiling, waiting patiently by the road, with cardboard signs of gentle hopes. In they went to the back, that silent heavy place, with boxes that seemed too big or too warm. They usually screamed as we drove and drove, fear thick in the air, and sometimes they died.
Some tried to leap from the back into the road, and one even made it through. Most stayed, getting weaker and weaker, their cries fading away as hunger and thirst and despair took their final hold. But we were not content. He didn’t laugh like he used to, driving aimless, waiting for the call sat badly with us, who were meant to know our destination. We were meant to have a cargo and an address, so it was we found a man named Breekon, and took everything they were until there was nothing left but the sweet taste of a broken soul’s disquiet and confusion.
We took the van and started to deliver once again. But we were reckless, desperate for the surety we had not felt since leaving the circus. And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for death to find you there, within its mocking shape, buried alive.
It was one like us that found it, a thing of shifting names and deja-vu. A fool, that believed because it found the coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed, and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master. No face to change in the cold, dark earth, no eye to fool where it is now.
But there was no mention of us in the deal, no thought to what might happen should a victim pass the test. And what happened was: we were stuck with it. It was still our cargo, nowhere to take it, no address or destination. So back in the van it went.
A long time we’ve carried it, keeping it as close as it wants, not listening to it sing in the rain. Even when the mannequin that now called itself Orsinov came back to us, told us we could help the world unknow and fear again the coming of strangers, still we had to drag it with us, an unclaimed package.
But I suppose it was worth it, in the end. When that Hunter killed him, when she took her violence of mindless instinct and unleashed it on us, it was there. It was waiting. I fed her to it. She took him from me, made us a me. And she doesn’t get to die for that. She gets to live, trapped and helpless, and entombed forever. No prey, no hunt. No movement.
We failed, but I have at least that comfort. I am without him now. I am. I can feel myself fading, weak, no reason to move, nothing to deliver. But I am no longer tied to the casket, so you can have it. You can stare at it, knowing how your feral friend suffers, knowing how powerless you are to help. And when you can’t bear it any longer, knowing that you can climb in, and join her. I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.
ARCHIVIST
(voice shaky) Statement.. ends.
[HE COLLAPSES.]
[TAPE CLICKS OFF.]
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE, A BIT LATER]
[TAPE CLICKS ON.]
[THE ARCHIVIST INHALES.]
BASIRA
Here.
[SHE SETS A CUP DOWN.]
ARCHIVIST
Thank you.
[HE PICKS UP THE CUP.]
BASIRA
Was it worth it?
ARCHIVIST
I - I don’t know. Maybe?
BASIRA
Did you at least learn anything?
[PAUSE.]
ARCHIVIST
Daisy’s alive, in there.
BASIRA
Right.
ARCHIVIST
Basira, we- we can’t [open-]
BASIRA
Yeah, I can read.
[PAUSE.]
ARCHIVIST
Right.
Short pause.
BASIRA
So why give it to us?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t- I don’t know. T-to taunt us? To (inhale) lure us in as well?
[HE SIGHS.]
BASIRA
Hm.
ARCHIVIST
I-I saw that - thing’s mind; it’s lost on it’s own, no partner, no - purpose, I-I-I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery.
BASIRA
And there’s no chance more of the circus survived the explosion?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t think so. I - at least - Breekon didn’t think so.
[HE SIGHS.]
BASIRA
Where does the coffin lead?
ARCHIVIST
The Buried.
BASIRA
Right.
[SILENCE.]
BASIRA (CONT’D)
(inhale, set) Right. Keep it safe; I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up.
[WE HEAR THE RUSTLING OF HER MOVING AS SHE’S SPEAKING.]
ARCHIVIST
Sorry?
BASIRA
You heard me. Don’t ask about them. And don’t know about them either.
ARCHIVIST
Well, I can’t exactly control that.
BASIRA
(cutting him off) Learn.
ARCHIVIST
(sighing) I’ll do my best. (breath) You can trust me, Basira.
BASIRA
Stop saying that.
[SILENCE.]
BASIRA (CONT’D)
Do you know how I survived that-the Unknowing?
ARCHIVIST
I… No. No I don’t.
BASIRA
No powers, no.. magic or help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did, a little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out, I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare.
ARCHIVIST
Good Lord.
BASIRA
Then everything ended and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim.
And then I got back to the Institute and Martin sent me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than an hour.
I can trust me, John. That’s it.
[THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.]
BASIRA (CONT’D)
I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me.
ARCHIVIST
Right.
BASIRA
And don’t open the coffin.
[THE ARCHIVIST LAUGHS DRYLY.]
ARCHIVIST
It is addressed to me, (silence)
(somber) Yes, alright. Alright.
TAPE CLICKS OFF.
Thank you!!!*^*
You are welcome :)
Petra Iván thank youuuuu
It's kind of fitting that Breekon is the one who survived, since in the real Breekon & Hope company Hope wasn't a real person, the real Breekon just really wanted to name the company "Breekon & [something]"
Is it just me or does Breekon sound almost like he's reciting a poem while he's talking? For some reason his words sound really melodic
yes I thought so too!
"And she doesn’t get to die for that. She gets to live, trapped and helpless, and entombed forever. No prey, no hunt." haha hell yeah! :) acab!
All cops are bustards but especially section 31 hunt avatars
Much has been lost. Each time I wait and listen, but it is gone. Why did it go? There is emptiness. No longer does he ever say "Tweet us on Twittah." The world is diminished.
I am not alone in my grief, for someone shares my mourning.
jon: "it is addressed to ME" 🤝 harry potter: "but i AM the chosen one"
braindead powerful icons
LMAO JON JUST STOLE ITS STATEMENT HAHA
Poor Breekon, he seems so... hopeless.
I don't know how many episodes he's been doing it for but as I make my way through the series, I just spotted on this episode that Jon has stopped calling himself Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London and now just calls himself Archivist.
The way characters start their statements has such a fun insight into their character (like how excited Martin is when he reads out the case number) but seeing Jon abandon the mundanity for the resigned, sullen acceptance of his departure from normal positions like a job is both worrying and heartbreaking.
Its been every statement so far this season, and I think thats when he started - an effect of his return from the near-dead, he has accepted his role as the archivist.
1:49 The way Breekon paused before he finished his sentence got me so sad, Hope's not there anymore 😭😭😭
3:08 I'm sobbing into my pillow
Oh ok, I just realized. Hope died at the Unknowing. _Hope_ died.
why does this make me feel sorry for Breekon :/
Same, i feel so bad for him : (
Man, I came to this series looking for horror and now I'm leaving with sadness.
now i’m sad for this lonely eldritch delivery man thanks
“What’s he gonna do? Record them to death?”
Listen Elias. Listen. You’re foreshadowing is getting even less intended
Supplemental: I've opened the coffin
Okay so, it was already pretty obvious that the Lonely was getting Martin isolated, but I think it's actually doing the same to Basira. I think the goal is to get everyone at the institute to separate themselves from one another, perhaps as a self-powering battery of loneliness energy or some such? Without trust, the isolation sustains itself
Statement EXTRACTED
God, this might honestly be my favorite episode in the entire podcast. The last lines of the statement hit so hard every time... poor Breekon :(
I'm glad to confirm that Daisy was part of the Hunt and that B&H were Strangers.
Supplemental: A year later and I feel like a dumbass for this original statement. Elias straight up said Daisy was "mad with the Hunt" and B&H were in the f*ing Unknowing. But, I suppose that's why I'm doing a relisten after all this time. Paying more attention and whatnot.
@@ShadowyKatz 😭😭😭 not the supplemental lmaoo
When Jon collapsed at the end of the statement, and you could HEAR the bonelessness…. I wonder what foley they used!
There isn't enough comments about the fact that JON JUST VANISHED THIS ELDRITCH BEING OUT OF EXISTENCE WITH THE SHEER POWER OF HIS WILL
who was trying to control the casket? I remember, in the first casket episode, that the dude who kept it had made an arrangement with another man but I have no idea who it might have been. that antiques dealer, salesa? he didn't die though, like Breekon said. hmmm
I checked, wondering the same thing as you : it's an old man "with an odd density to him", who introduced himself as John ( if I got that part right of course) ; maybe just a fool wanting to have fun with the casket but who just got eaten, maybe to become an avatar for the Buried... SUSPENS
John from Liverpool
It was the wolf guy there inside from episode 8
“John”, whose last name matched one of the Anglerfish victims.
@lightninghedgehog5963 So... Either an avatar of the stranger, or a relative
"Christ that's worse..."
I know this is serious but that was really funny to me XD
Jon using his powers is just about the most exciting thing to listen to EVER. The high pitched sound, the pained cries of Breekon… beautifully rendered, incredibly cool.
Wow I almost feel bad for mr. "Breekon". He's all by himself now! 😭
"Would you please drop that ridiculous voice?"
"Аполоджийз! Из преферд лайк со?"
"she took him from me, made *us* a me." AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
Hell yeah Basira has leads to follow up. I think she might be the most resourceful member of the team, in many ways.
They have explained before how the parts of each fear are instinct based, but it's interesting how they both knew what they were supposed to be and NEEDED to be it, to the point Breekon fell back on their last delivery to take the coffin too.
Just watched an animatic of ep 101 bloopers where breekon and hope go to boots before watching this and now I'm even sadder than I would've been if I just watched this ep itself
I’m kinda sad for creepy delivery man, he lost his other half :(
"Stop LOOKING AT ME"
"NO."
when the circus music started playing i straight up took out my headphones because i thought it was coming from outside irl
the audio engineering is insane is this podcast i swear
18:03
I'm on my second listen through but I'm really concerned because THIS is the moment I realized I can recognize Jon just by his breathing? Like that's really ominous and I'm kind of scared?
That’s cause he’s the one we usually hear when we hear JUST breathing mama just a special breather 🕺
John can't stop whatever is coming to the institute by questioning everything out of them. I wouldn't be so sure about this statement Elias
Holy cow, I never noticed Jon collapsed after that statement.
I like how Jon Just made a statement but says information has been extracted i'll give him props.