MAG129 - Case #0130409 - Kubir Shakya
Statement regarding a flood that occurred around his flat in Hackney.
The Magnus Archives hears the story of a young man whose financial difficulties made it feel like he was drowning in problems.
Content Notes: Drowning, natural disaster (flood), isolation, grief, emotional trauma, human remains
Starring: The Archivist - Jonathan Sims; Martin Blackwood - Alexander J Newall
Writer: Jonathan Sims
Director: Alexander J Newall
Editors: Alexander J Newall, James Austin, Brock Winstead
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i love how season 1 jon was like 'i can't wait until martin gets out of the archive again' and now season 4 jon is like 'i miss mahtin, pls talk to me😔😩😔😭😔'
✨mahtin✨ died.
@@JulianneChua Its his pet name
And I'm just remembering how when Jon woke up and asked for some water, and just when Basira went to fetch some he started to ask for some tea. And Martin always brought him tea. I dunno why but that just won't leave my head
@@emppu1012 I just realized that ;-;
I still find it absofuckinglutely hilarious that "Well, guess I'll die" is a valid strategy against the Buried.
"you're gonna die alone and buried... just accept your fate...." ok then i will "no!! not like that!!"
Probably the reason they havent even done close to winning. Enough despair and people give up. At least with the others you get a faint hope that can keep the fear going. But being buried? It's the fastest way to accept death. It's literally self defeating, and as you do, I find it hilarious
It seems to work on several Powers, honestly. Jon accepting death at the hands of Michael might have something to do with Michael's transmutation.
@@toastghost9145 I'm not sure about that one. The Spiral itself doesnt seem to really even need sacrifices, it just tends to act, unlike even the Eye which needs to feed. The fact Helen was able to unseat Michael as the Incarnation (as she is quite literally one with it rather than subject to it) implies that the transmutation occured through a very different process than the usual consumption which entities do.
Hey, no fun! *spits its meal out*
I imagine throwing a Vast-touched body into the ritual and the Buried going "EEEWWWW" and stopping everything.
Nanahuatli LMAOO
GROSS GROSS GET IT OUT OF HERE
Basically causing an allergic reaction to a god in order to prevent an apocalypse
Jan Killburied
Best idea to stop any ritual of any entity: Just throw its opposite in there. Wanna stop the Lonely's ritual? Just throw Jon in there. Let's see if anyone can feel all alone when they know SOMEONE is watching 👀
Jon telling Martin that he misses him hurt me on a personal level
And Martin sounding so different / distant in general :') I mean, his voice is different and his responses are choppy etc
Basira: Don’t go into the coffin Jon: I’m not an idiot Also Jon: What if I just-
I mean season 2 was “John don’t go into the tunnels” “I went exploring in the tunnels it’s very dangerous actually”
Supplemental: I'm in the coffin 😀
Hear me out!
"l miss you" Take my heart and- l just can't with you
MY HEART MELTED 🥺🥺
Ωπ! Και άλλη ελληνίδα fan του the Magnus archives? High five! Έχεις καλό γούστο!!
I dont need my heart when its hurting like this😔
Yeah I was surprised he said it so directly.... Aah painful
"you died" "i came back" "yeah, and i'm not going to let it happen again" absolute POWER STATEMENT OF AMBIGUITY towards the guy whose last partner said it would have been better if he'd stayed dead
oooh I hadn't considered that
Oh my gosh
Jon: “I could go in myself but I need an anchor.” Me just now: “OH MY GOD IS MARTIN YOUR ANCHOR!!! :D”
Thought I was the only one
That’s what I thought too !!
Wait, that's genius!
WAIT SHUT UP ARE YOU KIDDING ME
Literally me 💀
"Please stop finding me..." God, the feels!!!! Peter is now sailing on the ocean of my tears
You can just hear the sadness in Jon's voice these days. Don't give up Archivist. You're going to be lonely for awhile. But Martin hasn't abandoned you. You'll figure this out.
JON: "audio recording by jonathan sims-" ME: hEaD aRChiViSt of ThE mAgNus insTiTUtE JON: "-THE ARCHIVIST"
I miss his season 1 introduction
It’s so ✨ dramatic ✨
I miss the old one because now he really is the avatar of the eye and that makes me sad
Not even just... Archivist And people say he isn't a theater kid smh my head
"I don't want to know. I don't want so see." Poor Jon. Also the static when he thinks about the anchor.
it's raining as i listen to this...oop. and jon finally admitting that he's lonely and misses martin, that brief sliver of vulnerability, it tore my heart out immediately, i love them so much
It started raining the second the episode started for me 😭
It's raining right now ;-;
I just learned there’s a big storm coming
i heard the rain and thought „hm maybe i should listen to that one episode of tma“
Try listening to it when you're in the same area the story takes place
"I miss you" JONS GAY IS SHOWING MARTIN, ISNT THIS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WANTING FOR,,, PLEASE COME BACK
Jon luring Martin back to the Archives with the Power of Gay.
Jon: I don't like having these thoughts and having no idea where they come from Me, alongside all the other people who have had hundreds of incidents with intrusive thoughts: *first time?*
Intrusive knowledge
Like imagine just chilling and then you suddenly have the knowledge on all your parents kinks slip into your head because you're aligned with beholding
Poor Jon,,, his ass has been kicked again and again, but this season is really painful like Jon NEVER asked for any of this and he deserves to be trusted again
Now it's his heart being kicked. It's especially sad, I think , because he seems resigned. He did fight it, but now he seems to be aware that his humanity is slipping and there's nothing he can do to make the others trust him. It's all really sad and I want to hug him.
Right! It always breaks my heart--all he ever did was try to do his job, which he had no idea was so dangerous, and help those around him, and he faces so much misery 😭 I just want to give him a hug
jon's "i miss you" really gave me that sort of heart attack feeling you get when your crush talks to you huh
I think part of Jon's transformation is that he's gone a journey of becoming more empathetic. In the beginning he was scrutinizing and sour, by now he's vulnerable and open. In contrast, I believe in some of the early tapes of Gertrude she was a little more sympathetic to the statements, and as they went on she became much much colder. I mean she sacrificed Michael without his consent, kept Jared around after his death and lied to him about the book. She even said herself she "has another decade before [she] can afford empathy." In my opinion, this makes Jon the superior Archivist entity
At this point, that's possible. I think we'll have to finish the series (yes, I know you have by now) to see if Jon helps Beholding finish its ritual to transform the world. Gertrude was killed for opposing that, so she would be the superior Archivist from a human's perspective.
It's kinda funny how throughout the series Jon is slowly losing his humanity yet becomes more humane at the same time
@@Alsarnia Absolutely. I mean, what would you expect from a species that creates two of the fears (Flesh and Extinction) from their own actions.
It's really interesting seeing two different aspects of the same topic. Compare, like, The Vast in the scuba diving one, and the Buried here.
Yeah! Like both that Scottish town and the people in Murder Club killed each other, but the village was senseless, relentless violence (therefore Slaughter) where as Murder Club was a game, the thrill of the chase (the Hunt)
Yeah, there were atleast three separate statements that connected the dark with water too! And then there was deadalus that showed how space is also connected to the vast, lonly and dark silmutaniously.
@@bucketlist3727damn I've locked that episode away in my head and now it'll keep me awake again 💀
Basira: don't go into the box Jon Jon: okay (I'm gonna go in the fucking box)
Jon and Martin's exchange made me really sad I couldn't really focus on the statement
Same
The Buried has a real sense of humor
Probably comes with being the weakest of the entities. It defeats itself, as being trapped very easily leads to people accepting their fate, which cuts off the fear they feel. Every other one still allows for some level of escape, allowing for hope, and thus fear being able to be extracted right up till death. Even the Watcher leaves you some seconds of alone time, leading people to keep going. Comedically its probably the reason the Buried is so easy to stop. It's the flimsiest of the entities in terms of sustainability.
@@clayxros576 *spoilers* And the buried realised it, thats why it gave everyone in the fearpocalypse atleast the Illusion of possible escape.
@@bucketlist3727 I dont think I've gotten that far....but that would mean the Buried is one of the sentient fears. Which is very interesting. So far (I'm just before the Lonely showdown between Jon and Peter) only the Watcher, Stranger, Web and The End seem to be conscious. I dont count the Spiral since a human seating its core is what gave it awareness, nor the Desolation since Agnes was...well, she wasnt destruction incarnate in terms of her personality and desires. An avatar of something self aware would take on its traits. If no traits exist, they just continue as a person. Anyway, the fact the Buried is self aware in some way is very curious. I have to wonder if it's in fact a kind of an aspect of the Earth itself, as we've seen it straight up prevent death and even sustain those within it. Daisy, if not given nutrition in the Buried, would have died once she was out since the End could catch up. She was alive besides her injuries though, which means the Buried actually defies the End directly. I suppose it using water makes sense considering that nurturing side...
I've got the feeling that Martin doesn't believe that John is caring about him. It sounds like he thinks that John is trying to see him only because he is lonely and doesn't have anyone else. And I'm still thinking about Martin saying that's "nothing new" when Elias told him that he cared too much about John despite treating him badly. Anyway, the laugh of disbelief when John said Martin he misses him broke my heart.
oh boy, Jan Kilbride - the astronaut dude involved in Fairchild's experiment, the one outside of isolation;; I suppose it was the dude Gertrude brought to the Pit some episodes back u_u
And the guy cried too! Perhaps because he knew why she brought? Imagine her explaining everything to him. " So yeah I'm gone need to hack you into pieces and and throw you into an impossible pit because they try summon something that will bury everyone on earth. And you were scared by a different being that is an anthesis to it wich is why yeeting you into the hole helps. Thank for your statement by the way your a godsent, literally "
oh my god i WONDERED if that was Gertrude :( Poor Jan!
@@bucketlist3727 ooooh I thought the guy that had been crying was Gerry, cause he didn't like having to dismember a man for that Like, I thought Jan was already in their back seat or something, in pieces Guess that makes more sense
What episode was that? Completely missed it
NEvermind, found it. Episode 97. Btw, I know that John figures this out in this episode, but were there any other hints or does he just drops this bomb for no reason (except the eye)?
"We like to thank our supporters" Me: glad to see more people helped this show "Joseph Fink" Me: HOLD UP~ The Nightvale guy???
I hope it's actually him
I read this in the same voice as "THE GRIM REAPER!" 😄
It took me like a solid 15 minutes to get through the first 3 minutes of this episode. I think this is a testament to this amazing podcast and its great writing/voice acting and character building that it took me 15 minutes to listen and pause at every line of Jon, Martin convo. All in all The Magnus Archives has managed to spook me better than any recent horror film/game, make me bust out laughing, and caused me to daydream about this story constantly, solidifying its self as one of my favorite pieces of media. Here's to hoping I can catch up to season 5 soon and join in on the fan interaction before the finale. You're doing amazing Rusty Quill.
"The letter was written to me" has the same energy as last epsiodes "well it is addressed to me" akfjff
I like that to get Daisy out of the Buried’s coffin dimension Jon is like “I need to learn DBT grounding skills stat” like bro such a mood
I love that!
They didn’t even pay him like at least with the coffin your financial problem is solved
To be fair, that one was part of an actual contract, something all the entities take rather seriously. This one had no such bind, it was moreso a trap that snapped shut.
jon and martins interaction made me start sobbing, i am way too invested in these fictional men
Alex just casually saying “Joseph fink”
I'm glad it wasn't just me that freaked out a little. WTNV supports TMA! 🤩
This was not Joseph Fink. I am Joseph Fink, the real one.
So to recap his friends have become avatars for; The Lonely (martin), The Slaughter (Melanie), and The Hunt (daisy. Possibly dead). Unclear if Basira(im bad at spellin names) will become one.
shadow fire I don’t think they’ve all become avatars necessarily. There’s definitely steps between being touched by an entity, actively feeding it, and being its servant/avatar from what I’ve interpreted so far
Forgot The End (Georgie)
Basira has claimed a mantle of The Eye. Elias called her Detective and she figured out the way out of the Unknowing.
Basira could very well be touched by The Eye like Ishner said, but I saw someone speculating in the comments on a previous episode that she might be touched by The Dark, and I could see that just as well. I don't know for certain whether Elias referring to her as the detective means she's related to The Eye, and she has had a pretty significant run in with The Dark before (Police Lights). Personally I thought that her escape from The Unknowing could have been pretty good evidence of her being connected to The Dark, because the only way she was able to reason her way out of there was by closing her eyes, ie. putting herself in darkness.
@@ishner *smiles in season 5*
Jon, to Martin: You're doing something really stupid Me: you'd know, wouldn't you? Having been there yourself so many times yourself
This is one of those statements where I'm existentially scared well before supernatural things happen. Losing everything because you don't have money... there should be one more fear added to the list.
15. capitalism
That's desolation, I believe? The fear of what you love being taken- being, *destroyed*? By something completely out of your human control, by the lack of ability to stop it whether it's because you lack money or power or resilience, by the deliberate and terrible force of time passing? That's desolation.
Honestly that is the Buried. Pressure unrelenting and ever present, you can’t dig yourself out. The numbers are too big and you are too small. That’s the reason for the wording of the letter in this statement.
For real. Fear of grinding, exhausting, bleak poverty is one of my personal Existential Dreads
"I'm just lonely" is that foreshadowing of some sort?
most likely
@@cezar3169 helen is best character
@@Arya-el9ps f yeah
replying again bc it was fricking foreshadowing. Foreshadowing for something huge
"im not going to let it happen again" Let WHAT happen again??? Let him die or come back?? I NEED TO KNOW MARTIN
sorry about the rain, it's just me crying about the beginning of the episode
There's a thunderstorm happening here and it's hard to tell what's background sound effects and what's actual thunder in my actual home
F
I accidentally spoiled Martin's.. arc for myself so I knew he was going to do this but god I really did not expect it to be this painful
Now I'm afraid.
just like with the train lady, 'guess i'll die' is how he survived. is that just...part of the stratagy to staying alive? like i know, i heard the bit about the anchor, but like-
Okay so I literally haven’t even watched the episode yet but DID I HEAR RIGHT THAT JOSEPH FINK IS A PATRON???
Yep! :D
DHDHDHHDJSV YAY
Wait who's Joseph Fink?
@@davv6628 a writer for the podcast Welcome To Nightvale i believe
I'm glad it wasn't just me that freaked out a little. WTNV supports TMA! 🤩
Jon: I miss you Martin Me: Peter you monster. Let them hang out!
Supernatural water... *M O I S T*
Urgkkkhhh
Jon needs anchor? Like... friends? Power of friendship? ...Love? (Power of Martin?)
Jon: Something I'd know a way to... Hmmm, what could it be? The entire fandom be like: *MARTIN*
What Jon said reminds me of Michael and their struggle of what part of them was actually Michael and which part was the entity. No wonder Elias comes off a bit psychotic, Seeing everything has to mess with your psyche even if you have an anchor... I miss Tim...
Is no one going to talk about how one of the patrons are Joseph Fink the one who made Night Vale
mara wilson was also listed as a patron at some point! love to see the night vale folks supporting tma.
I tried putting this episode in my mp3 four times and every time it refused to play, the fourth time it started corrupting EVERYTHING INSIDE THE FOLDER JON PLEASE FORFIVE ME IM SORRY I DONT WANT TO BE MARKED BY AN ENTITY
Ok so off topic but if I remember correctly joseph fink is one of the creators of welcome to nightvale so now I can't help but think how amazing a crossover would be
i just niticed how in descriptions of episodes of other seasons it's "the magnus archives tells the story of..." and now it's "the magnus archives hears the story of.." paired with Jon now calling himself just.. The Archivist, i really love the attentiin to little details
When Jon said he needed an anchor, something he would know how to find his way back to I immediately went "Martin!". It's probably going to be something to do with The Eye, or the archives itself, perhaps a tape recorder, something *practical* , but Martin is where my head went first because of course it is
JOSEPH FINK? WHATTTTT NO WAY?!??!
Seems appropriate, right?
RIGHT
This has to be one of my favourites so far. The sheer oppressiveness of having the entire world around you and the weather, the sky itself, start to shift and change into something malicious and threatening is just so terrifying to me for some reason. The added unreality of the time of day being unclear adds to it as well.
am i the only one that thinks john should just idk email martin ??
It goes directly to spam
Really like that Jon brought up what I have been thinking for a long time. We only hear from people who didn't just die. Though I feel like this guy did and is now just tied to the Buried.
18:00 is one of my favorite lines of this podcast. and this statement in specific, it strikes me more than the others. something about the narrators will and determination and, i guess resignation in a way? also, I think ive been underestimating martin, something that, ironically, infuriated me when the others did it. i think... he knows what hes doing, and thinks that even if he succumbs to the Lonely, its more important than that
I am lit rally crying about an horror podcast in this fine night,,, okay
My first thought with Submerged was OH IT'S THE BURIED AND THE VAST and then I was like how can they interact with each other? (I still haven't been throught it yet) thatll be interesting
"You died" John Cleese voice: "...I got better!'
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] [A LIGHT THUD, AND SOME SHUFFLING OF PAGES, FOLLOWED BY THE CREAKING OF A DOOR; SOMEONE IS ENTERING THE ROOM.] ARCHIVIST Martin? MARTIN Uh - John - how did you?… ARCHIVIST I just, ha - I know sometimes. It’s, It’s a whole - thing. [AS HE SPEAKS, FOOTSTEPS SOUND THROUGHOUT THE ROOM.] MARTIN Oh. Okay. W-well, sorry, but I, I, um… ARCHIVIST You have to leave. Suddenly. MARTIN (almost to himself) Oh, (normal) John, come on, we’ve been over this - ARCHIVIST (overlapping) No, it’s fine; I know you’ve got… (big sigh) Whatever this is, I’m not going to question you. MARTIN (swallowing) Thank you. ARCHIVIST Even if it looks like you’re doing something really stupid. [PAUSE.] [A SLIGHT SIGH, THEN:] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) Sorry. MARTIN It’s okay. (breath) I get it; it’s just - ARCHIVIST I worry. You’re working for someone (fumbles for words) really bad. MARTIN Yes, I’m not an idiot, John, but - it’s no worse than working for some thing really bad, so. ARCHIVIST At least the Eye hasn’t gone after our own. [MARTIN SIGHS.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) Lukas has vanished two people - MARTIN Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me, it would have been a lot more. [PAUSE; MARTIN MOVES TO LEAVE.] MARTIN (CONT’D) This isn’t helping anything. ARCHIVIST I just - (sigh) I’m sorry; Basira’s off doing- god knows what, and I can’t talk to Melanie. MARTIN (yeah, whatever, okay) Mhm. [THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.] ARCHIVIST I suppo - (he stops himself) I miss you. [MARTIN LETS OUT A SHORT LAUGH OF DISBELIEF.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) I’m just - MARTIN Lonely. [THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.] ARCHIVIST Yeah. [A SNIFF.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) I, uh - I heard about your mother. MARTIN Yeah. ARCHIVIST I am - so sorry. MARTIN (slight hitch of breath) Thank you. (drawn-out breath) It’s -… It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST If, If you do need to talk, I - MARTIN I can’t. ARCHIVIST No. No, o-o-of course. (inhale) Listen, Martin, you should know - MARTIN John… ARCHIVIST Daisy might be alive. Basira is - MARTIN (overlapping) Stop. Stop, please; I - I shouldn’t know any of this, I - [THERE’S A STRANGE SOUND HERE- IT COULD BE A LOW, RUMBLING STATIC, BUT IT COULD ALSO BE THE SOUND OF MARTIN GATHERING HIS THINGS. THE SOUND IT MOST CLOSELY RESEMBLES IS ACTUALLY THAT OF… ANOTHER TAPE RECORDER RUNNING.] MARTIN (CONT’D) I, I really need to go; I, I - ARCHIVIST Right. (softer) Right. [THE SOUND STOPS.] MARTIN Please stop finding me. [HE GETS UP TO GO.] ARCHIVIST What happened, Martin? [PAUSE.] MARTIN You died. ARCHIVIST I came back. MARTIN Yeah - [HE OPENS THE DOOR.] MARTIN (CONT’D) - and I’m not going to let it happen again. ARCHIVIST Wait - Wait, wh - [THE DOOR CLOSES. THE ARCHIVIST EXHALES, THEN SIGHS.] [TAPE CLICKS OFF.]
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] ARCHIVIST Statement of Kulbir Shakya, regarding a flood that occurred around his house in Hackney. Original statement given September 4th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT) In many ways, I lost my home even before all this happened. I lived in that house my entire life. Hackney was my area, my community; it wasn’t some fashionable postcode or investment opportunity. I should have seen the signs, I suppose. Little independent coffeeshops sprouting up like weeds between the paving stones. Micro-breweries and taprooms cropping up in old industrial estates. Even though the Prince of Wales had to close its doors because it couldn’t afford the new business rights. The faces I knew and recognized gradually being outnumbered by-young, trendy white people in artfully shabby clothes, who thought they were blending in… and precise-looking real-estate agents in well-pressed suits taking pictures of dilapidated buildings. I complained, of course, made all the right noises of disapproval, but… I still drank the over-priced coffee. Still shopped at all the shiny new franchise outlets. I thought because I’d been living there so long, I’d be alright. Hell, the house had been my grandfather’s before he died. But, we never had the money to actually buy it, and as property values skyrocketed, the landlord who had always seemed so understanding… suddenly started itching to sell. And there was no way I could afford the new rent on the meager salary of my admin job. I looked into getting roommates, subletting, all sorts. But by that point, I was already too deep in debt, and there was just no way I was going to be able to stay. So I started the long and painful process of moving in with my sister. It was… humiliating. The flat she lived in with her husband was much smaller than the house, and I couldn’t afford a storage unit, so much of what I owned, a lot of which had once belonged to my grandfather, had to be thrown away. We actually got into a blazing row over his old khukuri. He had been a Ghorkali, serving in the 5th Ghurka Rifles during the second World War. I have… complicated feelings on his military history, of course, but… he had always been fiercely proud of it. And that old knife had been one of his most treasured possessions. I didn’t keep it polished like he had, even at-ninety years old, but it reminded me of him. I could see his calloused hand on its hilt as he meticulously, almost mechanically, cleaned it, humming a tune the name of which I never learned. He had been a man of discipline, in many ways many harsh, but he loved me and my sister very much, and the idea of throwing away his blade felt like a- kick in my chest. In the end, she agreed, though, and it wasn’t long before I was spending my last nights in an almost-abandoned house, shelves bare and wardrobes empty, trying my best to sleep on a mattress I knew I was leaving behind. The letter came the next day. The envelope was slightly damp, like it had been carried through the rain, and it had my name printed on the front in a business-like Sans serif font. It looked at first like any other piece of financial junk mail you might glance at once and throw away, but I read it anyway. The letter claimed to be from a financial firm named Eberhart and Strauss. At least, those were the names on the letterhead. The first words did nothing to dissuade me from my assumption it was junk mail. ‘Drowning in debt? We can help!’ in big, friendly text that seemed at odds with the pseudo-respectable image the rest of it seemed to be striving for. But as I read through it, I realized that… not only was it addressed to me specifically (not a difficult job for modern batch printing,) but it made references to some very specific aspects of my situation. Precise amounts of debt. Names of creditors, and the sort of details that made it clear that this was definitely written to me. It didn’t give any indication of the exact assistance that Eberhart and Strauss was supposedly offering, but it did give an address, and told me to call on them at my convenience. At the bottom, in that same friendly typeface, it assured me that ‘we can help with the pressure.’ I don’t know what I expected; I really don’t. What, they were just going to hand me ten grand and another four hundred a month to cover the rent increase? I mean, I knew about loan sharks, and debt consolidation companies, and the-dozens of other scams that prey on those in desperate situations like mine. This was just going to be another one of them. But, the letter had been to me specifically, and maybe somewhere in the back of my mind… I was genuinely hoping for a way out. The address they gave me was for a tall, thin building in Hammersmith that housed about a half dozen more firms and a couple of tech startups. It didn’t look like the sort of place that high-prestige businesses would have their premises?, and more than one of the names listed on the plaque next to the revolving door had been roughly scratched out, I assume indicating they were no longer in business. I asked at the front desk about Eberhart and Strauss, and was directed to an extremely cramped lift that rattled me up to the fourth floor. There was a buzzer next to the door, and it seemed to be broken and made no sound at all when I pressed it. My finger came away wet, and looking up, I could see some sort of leak in the ceiling, dripping water down onto the button. I tried the handle, and the door opened, quietly. The rooms beyond were empty. Bare wooden floors, no curtains or wallpaper, a few abandoned chairs and cheap-looking desks. The light switch did nothing, though the dull grey light of a cloudy day filtered through the window bright enough to see by. Every surface was damp, slick with old water and warped with mildew. It dripped slowly down the walls and seeped into the rotten wood of what furniture was left. I could see a line of liquid in the bare lightbulbs. I was confused; obviously, I was, and stepped back out to double-check the door, and sure enough; these were the offices of Eberhart and Strauss. I felt… disgust rise in my throat; the awful, humid air of the waterlogged place sitting heavy in my lungs. I checked the draws in one of the desks, but… even if the mushy pulp inside had once been paper, it wasn’t anymore. Confused and angry, I turned around and left. It started raining on the walk home. When would you start to worry about the rain? I don’t mean about it ruining your day or wrecking an event you’re planning, but at what point does it stop being normal and start to alarm you? I’ve lived my whole life in London, so I’ve seen plenty of rain in my time. I’ve lived through weeks when you catch what minutes you can when the sky closes for a moment and you can run to the bus stop. I’ve seen poorly maintained roads turn into tiny lakes, and I’ve seen Hackney towns turned into a muddy swamp. So the first day didn’t worry me. The rain pounded down steadily outside, and I sat in my bare, dismal home, waiting for my sister to pick me up. It drummed on the roof, rhythmic and insistent, cascading off in tiny waterfalls, and just for a moment… I found myself almost completely at peace. Then I felt a drop, heavy and wet, land on the back of my neck, and it shattered all at once. I looked up, and I saw the spreading patch of damp in the center of my ceiling. Evicted or not, part of me recoiled to see my home starting to finaly crumble, as though my leaving would take the last part of its hope. The water was warm, and after the heat of the summer’s day, I breathed in, expecting the smell of petrichor. But the scent of the rain was something else, something earthy and cloying I couldn’t quite place. It was a storm; there seemed to be no doubt of that, and I didn’t blame [Boana] for not wanting to drive in this weather. I was a bit annoyed that she hadn’t called, but looking at my phone it was quite clear it- wasn’t getting any signal. Now, that wasn’t necessarily a surprise, given the storm, but it did present me with a problem: Namely, that my television and computer had already been sent over to my sister’s place, and without any signal, I was left with pretty much two options: sit doing nothing and listen to the rain, or head out into it. I opened the door for about three seconds before I decided that sitting and waiting was the better choice.
I walked upstairs, pulled a seat to the window overlooking the road, and… I sat there, watching. The drains were already starting to flood, puddles growing around the parked cars, reaching up and over, eager to meet in the middle to turn from a pool of water into something much more. I expected cars, maybe people running desperately to their homes, but the street outside was quiet, save for the pounding of the downpour. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour passed, and I didn’t see a single soul. Not a car, or a bike, not even a bus. That started to worry a bit; the 394 should pass by every fifteen minutes or so, but I definitely hadn’t seen it. Did they know something I didn’t? Was there some sort of weather warning out that I’d missed, for Hackney? That was when I heard the first peal of thunder. There was no lightning, I want to be very clear on that. Nothing broke the uniform iron grey of the sky, dark and solid as far as I could see. But the thunder hit like a hammer. It rolled, deeper than I had heard even in the most violent of storms, and it just… kept going. I could feel it shaking through my whole body, and for a moment I thought that I was wrong, and it must have been a proper earthquake. Then it faded, and the world was silent again, save the impact of the rain. When my watch told me it was nine o’clock, I dragged myself over to the mattress and told myself I might as well sleep through the rest of the storm, even though the sky seemed no darker than before. I tried to relax, and let the rhythmic tapping of the rain lull me off to sleep, like it always had when I was a boy, but I could find no comfort in it. It sounded too much like it wanted to get in. The thunder woke me, another long, deep roar that seemed to come as much from the ground as it did from the clouds. The rain still hammered down outside, and I checked my watch, staring at it in confusion. It didn’t make any sense. It said it was three AM, the middle of the night, but looking out of the window, the world was still light. The sky was cloudy and grey, as it had been the previous day, and the rain made it impossible to see further than the end of the street. But all the same, it definitely wasn’t night. There were no streetlights turned on, and, now that I looked for it, I couldn’t see any windows lit in any of the other houses on the street. It seemed like it was just me. Me and the steady, driving rain. The road was beginning to properly flood now, with an inch or two of water creeping up over the edges, and starting to cover the pavement and climbing up the tires of the parked cars. I started to consider trying to leave. Perhaps I had missed some sort of official evacuation, some huge storm warning, and I was in terirble danger. But no, that was ridiculous; this wasn’t some rural town panicking at the prospect of a flash flood; this was East London. If there was some sort of disaster coming, I would’ve seen something, an emergency vehicle, or at least someone in a high-vis vest. (sigh) I was overreacting. It was just the rain keeping everybody home. They all just wanted to stay dry. I lied to myself until the water was too high for me to even consider going outside in it, and I was trapped. By the time it started to pour into the downstairs of the house, I had just about accepted that, whatever was going on, there was no longer a day or a night, just the storm and the rain and the thunder. It’s odd how you gradually come to accept things as real. By the time you drop the last of your rationalizations, there’s no longer any surprise left in you, just an awareness that- no matter how wrong it might feel, it’s the reality you’re now in. I walked down the stairs, as low as I could without stepping into the water, and I watched it. It was dark and murky, obscuring anything below its surface as soon as it was covered. I reached my hand out, and pushed it gently into the flood. It was warm, as warm as my hand and moments after the water covered it, my mind could no longer easily tell where my skin ended and the water began. It should only have been half a foot deep at most, but reaching in I couldn’t feel the floor. I pulled my hand out and returned upstairs. By the time the rain stopped, it was halfway up the staircase, and had almost completely submerged the cars parked outside. The thrumming of the rain gave way to sudden silence, and for a moment I allowed myself the smallest sliver of hope. The streets outside were still, the top of the floodwaters flat and undisturbed. The sky remained those same dingy clouds, but it seemed to be holding its breath. Then, one by one, the headlights on the cars lit up. They shone out into the water that covered them, faintly illuminating the murky liquid for a few feet below the surface. And that’s when I finally saw things moving. Silhouettes gliding through the water with smooth, undulating motions. They might’ve been the shape of people; it was hard to tell for sure. They moved too fast, darting in and out of the lights, before my eyes could fully register what they were seeing. I left the window and returned to the mattress. I was tired; I was hungry; and, without the motion of the rain, the air had become intolerably humid. Every breath I took filled my lungs with that thick, wet scent, and it felt like I could barely get enough oxygen to think. The walls of my house were slick with moisture, now, and there was nowhere I could go to be dry, no way out of this oppressive, cloying damp. Then the thunder came for the last time. It shook and rattled with more force than it ever had before, and the empty oak wardrobe fell over with a crash. I ran to the window and found that the floodwaters were rising again, but faster this time, and not because of any rain. The house, the street, the world, was sinking into that unending line of water, which I was now certain stretched out to the horizon. Inch by inch, foot by foot, everything was descending into the water’s embrace. It would wrap itself around me, reach down my throat and fill me with its choking darkness. There was nothing I could do. As the water reached the top of the stairs and started to flow out towards my open bedroom door, I looked around desperately for any escape that I might have overlooked. And I saw something lying just behind the fallen wardrobe. It must have fallen there months ago. It was the worn leather sheath to my grandfather’s khukuri. I walked over and picked it up. I stared at it. I could feel that warm, grasping water cover my feet, my ankles, slowly working its way up my calf, but in that moment all I could think about was my grandfather, and how he had looked when they gave him his diagnosis: Calm and solid. He had thanked his doctor, without hesitation, and although I knew he had been afraid, he had spent those last months methodically preparing for the end. He had always endured his problems, never trying to squirm out of things he felt he had to face. I gripped the sheath in both my hands and waded to the window. Corpses floated by, slowly waving at me gently, their lifeless hands grey and bloated. I ignored them, and stepped out into the water. I don’t know if you have ever drowned, but it’s the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I tried to remain calm, to think on my grandfather and his firm, stony face, but even he had begged the painkillers at the end. Even he had been afraid. My lungs spasmed painfully, desperately trying to wring air out of the warm, rancid water that filled them, and as I felt the water embrace me fully, pressing in on all sides, I gripped the last connection I had to the world I knew. The last thing I was conscious of was the water getting colder. I don’t - remember them fishing me out of Regent’s Canal, or much of my treatment, to be honest. At a certain point it all blurs together. I’m alive, and that’s what matters. And I’ve been living with my sister and her husband for a month or two. She doesn’t believe me, of course, and is keen to put the whole thing behind us, though I catch her staring at me sometimes. I suspect she thinks I might have done it on purpose… but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what it’s like, to really hear the rain. ARCHIVIST Statement ends. (sigh) One thing that always strikes me when I read statements like this is… the bias of survivorship. With one or two notable exceptions, the only statements the Institute receives are those where the witness successfully escaped whatever terrible place or being has marked them for a victim. I wonder how many don’t make it out. How many of those shapes in the water were once just like Mr. Shakya.
Hm. (dry laugh) Or perhaps I shouldn’t wonder. Even as I say it, I can feel the knowledge pushing at my mind, eager to find a way in. But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see. No more than I wanted to see how Gertrude stopped the Buried, and their ritual, but that came to me as well. (short sigh of a laugh) They called it “the Sunken Sky,” and she calculated, correctly, that casting a Void-touched body down the pit at the right time would be enough to disrupt it. Something she found, in Jan Kilbride. But Gertrude also realized that the body need not be alive. Or in one piece. She thought it was a mercy. It wasn’t. I don’t like this. I don’t like not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are just what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin, to Daisy. I haven’t heard from Basira since she left on whatever secret errand, and I’m no closer to understanding any of this. (sigh) I suppose, if this one managed to free himself from the Buried, I-I-I - to find a way out of whatever part of choked embrace is drowning, I-I-I - [THE STATIC OF THE ARCHIVIST BEGINS.] I need an anchor. I - I could go in myself - I could find her, and - then I’d just need to get out. [THE STATIC STOPS.] I need something out here. Something I can know the way back to. I - I don’t know what. But… (short, dry laugh) It’s a start. (genuine delight) End recording. [TAPE CLICKS OFF.]
@@petraivan6778 thank you!! Also Martin....(⋟﹏⋞)
You are welcome! :>
When Jon says "I miss you" to Martin it was sweet, but Martin's (I think it was him) little intake of breath when he said it was what got me. As though, he couldn't believe that Jon would say that to him 😭
219 episodes and my brain still auto fills "The Magnus Archives is - - filmed before a live studio audience"
Season 4 is the longest season of the Magnus Archives, not for it's episode length, but because it just feels heavy and hard to go through. Not for the statements though.
In the thanks to the Patrons, is Joseph Fink THE Welcome to Nightvale Joseph Fink?!?!?! Spooky podcast writer supporting another spooky podcast, I love it
I'm just remembering the comment that someone left maybe two episodes ago saying that they were listening to these during a thunderstorm and hoping that they're doing okay 😅
okay, so the wiki says that this is 100% buried, but i feel like there's a lot of the lonely in this, too? maybe it's just that they're intrinsically connected, as being buried alive tends to be a rather solitary fear (if you can see or feel other people, there's not enough too-close-cannot-breathe. unless you're being buried in people, in which case, cool?) but there's just something that feels reflective of martin, in the whole 'getting pushed away from your home and finding yourself locked up and alone in your house with no contact to the outside, and also it's unchangingly grey and time seems to have stopped, and the bus is late (waiting for the bus in the rain in the rain wait waiting for the bus in the rain)' thing, you know? then again, the distinction between fears seems pretty arbitrary. there's even a bit of the eye, in the fact that the letter was directed to kubir shakya and seemed to be from someone who had been spying on him, and the uncanny liminality of that empty office felt a bit stranger-spiral i guess what i'm saying is, Fear Is Meaningless - Just Vibe
I keep coming back to what Gerry said. There aren't sheer boundaries between one and another. You can have Buried that is pretty Lonely, much as you can have Dark Buried or Vast Buried.
@@mimkyodar yeah, that's kind of what i was getting at, i guess
Alex sais Joseph fink and I absolutely loose it
Cool to hear Joseph Fink among the patrons.
Joseph Fink? Like, the real one? That'd be awesome xd Legends support legends an' all. 03:45 "And I'm not gonna let it happen again" I know he probably meant the dying part, but with the way it's positioned one might suspect he actually refers to the coming back part of it. Cold. "...she calculated, correctly, that casting a Void-touched body down the pit at the right time would be enough to disrupt it." The phrasing of this is so funny to me. Gertrude really just yeeted that poor dude's corpse into a hecking hole in the ground and then stood there, looking, annoyed, at her watch, waiting for the Apokalypse to delay itself indefinitely, huh.
I dont know if Im right or not, butbit seems all you need to escape a fear is a strong bond to someone or something. And I cant believe Im saying this but it seems love conquers fear. This isnt the first time it happened too, I think. There was the man who got lost in a see of faceless crowd who escaped because he remembered his mother. Forgot the name but it was one of the more pleasant statements because of the happy ending.
Gerard Keay told him! Honestly, Jon should have asked for a bullet list of techniques to use against the entities.
I know that Martin meant he wasn't going to let Jon get close to him again but it REALLY sounds like Martin is gonna fecking kill Jon
Oh JON. My HEART. ;___;
This arc always hurts me … Martin doesn’t sound like Martin and Jon is so sad
I feel like this statement could be related to the desolation as well as the buried. I know a flood is sort of antithetical to the whole fire vibe of The Desolation, but losing everything that ties you to the community and home that you love feels right up it’s alley.
You know, Jon, sometimes we can have thoughts/mysteriously obtain knowledge with eldritch powers and not IMMEDIATELY act on it, you know? Like, maybe wait until Basira gets back? Jon? Jon, please?
As someone with a specific fear of drowning,,,,wow
0:03 I don't know if there is any nightvale fans here. But Joseph fink (I think that's how it's spelled) is one of the creators of welcome to nightvale. Just the thought of small podcast supporting each other makes me very happy 😊
Martin: "Stop finding me" Jon a statement later: "I just need something I can know the way back to" ... My man.... *wink wink*
The words 'sans serif' have forever been ruined for me. All of the letters are in comic sans. I don't make the rules.
Jon telling Martin he misses him……….. *cries softly*
I went outside to listen to this while in the rain It was really immersive 10/10 felt like drowning
Jon has such a strong will, if i were him and every person i had a remote affection for said id have been better dead i would have jumped into the buried and accepted my fate. Or gouge my eyes out, etc etc. I really think that Jon is gonna just be so messed up eventually and literally un helpable 😢hopefully watching husband and lonely husband get married after their premarital divorce happened and help each other
Fink? As in Welcome to nightvale Fink? Damn it be cool if he actually contributed to this episode.
That one tma The Stranger tiktok sound a lot of fans have used: take my heart! Pull it apart! Me after listening to this episode: take my heart! Pull it apart! I knew that Martin was avoiding Jon and being really distant, but I HAD NO CLUE HE WOULD BE MEAN. NOW JON HAS NO ONE TO GO TO. SOMEBODY CUDDLE THIS MAN HE NEEDS LOVE AND TEA AND SUPPORT AND MARTIN. HE. NEEDS. HIS. MARTIN. BACK.
i wonder if the body of the guy that julia montauk saw being hauled into the office in her statement was a body of a person that didnt make it out of the flood, or were they doing multiple things there. i checked and julia's encounter with the dark offices is 3 years before this one and the company name is different, so i wonder - do they change their name regularly or do the dark avatars just operate in 2 ways, one being cults and the other one being shabby offices?
" shabby offices" sorry but I'm dead
@@riversrieds5247 That'd be The End
Season 1: Denial Season 2: Anger Season 3: Bargaining Season 4: Depression (and i guess season 5 will resemble acceptance :D)
yooo that's cool
eyy, Joseph Fink! idk about spelling but I know the name :D
yay for creators supporting creators!
I feel like Nightvale is a good example of what would have happened if the ritual succeeded.
@@ignice2352 I feel like Nightvale is what you get if every ritual went off at once lmao
@@megalunalexi5601 that sounds about right
Mega LunaLexi well...
you know this is the first one that got a real physical emotional reaction from me, i teared up. the first one i can genuinely relate to my life.
Jon- hmm I need an anchor... Me- MARTIN-
"you're doing something really stupid" you mean unlike you for the past three seasons, jon? "you're working for someone really bad" YOU MEAN UNLIKE YOU FOR THE PAST THREE SEASONS, JON? "at least [Beholding] never turned on its own" Elias shot the previous archivist and traumatised Melanie, what are you ON about Don't get me wrong, jon is entirely right to be worried, but his points are Hypocrisy Central
Technically, Melanie was marked by the Slaughter at that point, so...
The social commentary in this one, uh... That was something. Damn the housing market and gentrification. And the "I miss you" was *very* painful to hear
As I was listening to this episode I was walking and it started to rain perpetually more and more
Gertrude really went to the pit and yeeted him in huh
Martin wants to protect Jon from Lukas I think :( my bois.....
He loves Jon so much😭
Listening to this with headphones really hits different, for a second I really thought it was actually raining outside of my house
I MISS YOU 🥺
i dont know if its always done this but when he said "the faint sound of bagpipes" and i could hear it faintly myself
The next ep: *MEAT* The ep after: *FLESH* Me: OH BOY
OK I havent finished the episode yet and this is sort of random- what if jon has two patrons?? the eye AND the spider?????? or smthn like that because Something is going on and Something is gonna happen and AAA