I suppose for all we know they're working together better now and hiding it from the tapes

I think the transcript for this episode presents Basira's tone with the stage notes "Volume of a cone. Pythagorean Theorem" which is accurate

@@Kyman102 Yes it does and it's the funniest fucking thing I've ever been presented with in these transcripts BASIRA Ah, John. What’s this? [SHE PICKS SOMETHING UP.] ARCHIVIST Hm? Oh. That’s… I, th, uh - that’s my rib. BASIRA (Pythagorean theorem, volume of a cone [side note, this is not just a stage note, its an actual link to the meme]) Right. [SHE PUTS IT BACK.]

@@fridaespinosa7387 read this reply, laughed, went and checked it within the transcript itself, laughed again lmao

I imagine her litreally just going like: ಠ_ಠ

She just goes, “….right..and the ashes?” She didn’t even sound surprised 😂

You know it's actually an eldrich manifestation of knowledge, because it cannot stop itself from only speaking in fun facts. Take it from anyone with intelligence, they only know the most worthless stuff at any given time, and moments of knowing what they need to are functionally random. I doubt the Eye could tell him what he needed if it wanted to. And judging from how much it's giving Jon, it wants to.

My ADHD at 3am

Year 8 is actually 12 year olds so would be abt grade 7 lol, but again that’s not important

I was considered smart in school and know a lot of random nonsense-I know a ton about hyper-niche subjects that would never be helpful in any given scenario. Though, the fact that I could remember a song I hadn’t listened to in about a year (after trying to remember for about 2 days) is one of my few claims to an impressive feat. Another issue is that 98% of my word knowledge comes from context. I can’t define words. I can just go “well uh… I know what it means but I can’t describe it to you.” I also never learned how to “properly study” because I can efficiently store knowledge in the short term before it gets locked away in a filing cabinet somewhere and I only find it after several months or years.

The point of my very long comment was to wholeheartedly agree by providing anecdotal evidence by the way (I can’t edit my comments for some odd reason)

Oh as the eye mutates him, Jon has been getting more and more human. It's rather curious considering the other entities.

Elias is looking in the camera like in the Office

Elias looking into the camera is just him making eye-contact

Christmas is the yearly sacrifice/devotional round-up. :D

😂

Same lol. I have a deer(?) rib bone hanging from my bedpost. What was the femur from? :o

@@trs16 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ive got 2 little skulls on my bookshelf from an owl pellet ^-^

As a kid, I had half a canine jawbone on my shelf. Thankfully I never had a “um, that’s my rib” moment. Everyone knew to expect the unexpected from me.

Yeah. We all know that group chat is just her and Daisy's chat with that one dude who got darkness-eaten in the raid.

no that was daisy's job

I know it would be very active.

Where else would he put it? Not like he can shove it back in his body😂

Episodical reminder that according to well known urban legend, Jonathan Sims, the archivist and avatar of the eye can now perform fellatio on himself.

@@americantoastman7296 It is my pleasure to also issue an episodical reminder that Jon is utterly disinterested in anything to do with anatomy below the belt.

@@clayxros576 Hello, ace here, just wanna add: libido (and relieving it if needed) =/= sexual attraction and having sex. But yeah, the Archivist doesn't seem to be the type lmao

​@@macabrecitrus2127get help

The eye is a petuliant child: You complain I´m not usefull? Well then I´ll do JUST THAT because you´re mean to me!

this is actually such a mood lol. i can't for the life of me commit anything important to memory, but have countless random facts that could never be useful in any practical sense

Robert Smirke and Wilfred Owen (episode 7) were both historical figures, too.

They also mentioned several famous explores in the one about the forever chase

And also Grimaldi

@@hithedragon7842 Grimaldi renowned for bumming cigarettes off people and wearing their skins

Jonny Sims the writer has a habit of using historical figures in this series, and sometimes it's less than respectful. John Amherst, an avatar of the Corruption, is implied to be a relative (possibly descendant) of Jeffery Amherst, a figure most well-known for ordering smallpox blankets to be given to native Americans.

As any junkie 😅

If he said it was Jane Prentiss she might’ve dropped the thing :/

It really just hit me that Jon literally does have a drawer specifically for human remains now. Lovely.

@@ZeroOhClock i aspire to this level of weird

Apart from Daisy, surprisingly.

I-- 😢

Well, Martin didn´t do that... he just doesn´t talk to jon to save him. Not really makes me feel better but still

I've never liked how the archive staff treated Jon. Like as far as I'm concerned besides some mild stalking he has done exactly jack to them.

@@nateds7326 and unconsenting surgery, but I get your point

I believe that part was about Isaac Newton, actually. He was like "Newton is a bitch and I pity him, but let him burn in hell peacefully; Halley though - yeah, I've always wanted to murder the bastard".

Reminds me of Season 1 Jon to Martin

@@purplecatloverrandompizza Ikr that moment when Halley came back from the dead and he called him "my dear (sweet?)" Halley???? Shipping.

This is actually super common in old letters between rivals of almost any kind. They will always be nice and respectable to eachother immediately before burning eachother as intensely as possible. See the letters talking about the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. Both very civil and kind-spoken men who nevertheless difinately wanted to see the other burn.

This is late BUT he only travels at night.

@@sarahwoods6317 😳

I laughed because of the Ashes bit. It was like "Wait why does he have ashes again? Oh right Martin gave them to him to ease his paranoia" and? ?? 😂

@@ZeroOhClock That didn't even occur to me, I just assumed that he kept Gerry in a little jar or something. Man, s4 is just sad, isn't it?

Punk's had it too good for too long. The "good guys" are making their way through the emoji list destroying lives 🤡👀💪👨‍🚀🧛‍♂️💃👨‍❤️‍👨🐜🕷🦍📓📜📑

@@seanthebluesheep hey I know you from oxbox!

@@polkarrty hey I know you from one specific poster in a German airport!

@@seanthebluesheep ah yes the time oxboxtra went crazy

@@seanthebluesheep are you fully updated with TMA?

Eye: Hey remember what the Archivist said about drinking a bar? Yeah it's no easier for me.

​@@clayxros576 omg the eye floating drunkenly around the air 😂 JON jahn liiiisten she had hair extensions. And pancreatic cancer. And that one is gay for YOU specifically. (jk that last one would be way too helpful)

Ashes for the Corruption, a rib for the Flesh AND the Eye, twelve more to go.

I would too

To be fair, most of the time that works. These avatars aren't particularly durable to conventional means, and are only really durable against supernatural means. Which is ironic.

*StationaryIsInTheOtherDraw*

"You see, the ashes are those of an enemy of mine, and were a gift from my crush to help me ease my paranoia"

@@macabrecitrus2127 yea, that’s basically it

@@DeadBore Yay ! What a loving gift from Martin

That's the funniest shit djfnfshd

As far as Jon and Basira are currently aware at this point, the Dark hasn’t tried their ritual yet. **slight spoilers** . . . . . However, you are correct. The ritual for the Dark has already been attempted. It failed. Jon and Basira will soon find that out. 😊

oh no. hadn't thought of santa like that. o_o

Old English? this is Early Modern at the earliest. Old English is very different

@@mimkyodar oh. Well thats my bad then lol I dont know very much about linguistics if im honest

There are even more episodes out on their webside. The fifth season is coming out now weekly.

Thank you

and Flamsteed is menioned by Gerry in 111 Family Business

Thank you!

i don't know why no one has acknowledged this amazing pun yet. given some of the episode titles, im sure jonny would be proud of you

Filipa Maria Costa HAHAHAHAHHA thank you I totally forgot I wrote this tbh lmaoooo

I am shaking internally, my skeleton yearns for such greatness. Appreciate the pun kcjdifhdis

if we can get trevor and julia back, we could have ribeye stake! :)

Didn't Martin get him the ashes of Jane Prentiss?

yeah they're prentiss' ashes from s2

same fucking here

Yes but.... as the person who thinks 'I'm the only one sane enough to plan anything'. ... it's understandable. Specially since in reality she's trapped and powerless and I think that fact is still sinking in on her.

Look at it this way. She'd had 8 months of Peter Lukas working his Loneliness on each of them, exploiting some weakness of each. Melanie's anger, Martin's desire to sacrifice to protect Jon, and Basira's feeling of being able to rely on only herself. That feeling, of being the only adult in the room, would lead to an attitude like that which Basira has had this season.

The dark is like the antithesis to the eye. The forever blind. While Beholding sees all, the Dark hides and obscures. I’m guessing it’s a bit hard to see anything in pitch black darkness. (I think it was Gerry that explained this? I don’t really remember...)

minor correction, it's jane prentiss's ashes, but yea. xD

You are familiar of course with my persecuter and tormentor Edmond Halley. The one so oft descending upon me as Nemesis with her sword to avenge upon my hubris. It was he, who with the president of the Royal Society, Isaac Newton, printed my catalogue of stars without my knowledge, robbing me of the fruits of my labor, turning my triumph to naught but ashes. I have had - many a contest with the president, but I harbor little true bitterness toward him. He is a blockish creature of vanity, concerned with his appearance only, and likely to fly into an indecent heat and knavish talk at any dispute. He has no reverence for God, and I pity him the fire that awaits. But in life, my thoughts of him are simply those of disdain, and hold no corner for true hatred. I put no such chain upon my spirit when I make my considerations of Halley, who I have long called Reimer to you in my letters, for as the odious Nicolaus Reimer persecuted the great Tycho, and ran his noble genius to exile, so, too, has my own Reimer pushed me toward ruin. I have detailed much of his offenses in my letters to you, but as much again I have concealed within my soul and given no voice. Simply know the robbery of my celestial catalog was but the least of it. I will admit, that in my heart, I nurtured such dreams of revenge that when they came to me the name of God felt hollow upon my lips. Another dignity stripped from me by mine enemy. Such were the depths of the hatred that I found within myself that whereupon I would spy Reimer at the Royal Society, if I were unobserved in turn, I would to no deliberate end begin to follow him. Oft it was that I would follow his path until my better humours overtook me, or I was seen by my quarry, who would smile, and offer his insufferable greeting. So it has been this past year, though I have never had fear he might know my intentions. Yet this month past, it has been… much changed. Reimer’s wanderings, hitherto aimless or meandering through the gardens and pathways of the Royal Society, or the coffeeshops of Fleet Street, have of late drawn him almost out of London entirely, to a strange and shrouded wood not a league from what might draw the interests of the pompous fool with whose whims I was now well-acquainted. And in that quiet seclusion, while I looked on in silence and astonishment, he would meet with figures both man and woman alike, with dull clothing and eyes that in the darkness of that wooded place seemed wholly black and empty. Their words were soft and impenetrable to me from the spot wherein I was concealed, but they had much impact upon Reimer, who would often stagger backwards as though struck. They led him further through trees of gnarled and twisted woods, where the thick roof of leaves permitted not the light of moon or stars, and there they knelt around a pool so black, if it had been India ink it could have scarcely been darker. I held back a cry that threatened to force itself from my lips, for I am not so blind as to be ignorant to the practices of vile pagan exultation. And I can describe what I saw around that pool as nothing less. And dismiss as you will my words as the shaken memory of a man appalled, but at that awful moment, their cries of worship seemed to form shapes that stirred in the water, such as I have never seen in my time upon this earth. I fled, of course, and considered the courses such as I might pursue to relieve myself of this dreadful burden of knowledge. No longer was my concern purely for revenge upon Reimer, but a quite acute terror of the savage rites the practice of which were clearly among my peers. I had not seen with clarity those compatriots alongside whom Reimer had joined in awful raptures, and could not state with confidence that any among the faculty to whom I might make report of his debauchery would not in turn make it known that I was telling such things of Halley, an astronomer of note, whose conduct to all others has been unimpeachable. No. If there was to be a confrontation or action taken against Reimer, it would be I, and I alone that would have to take it. I know it was the second of May when this took place, for it was no doubt the crowning glory that he had stolen from me that occupied his mind that eve, and caused his steps to quicken and grow careless. Again he traced his path under that dark and hidden wood, and again I followed, quiet in my manner, keen in my observance. I cast around for other figures, but in that moment, Reimer was alone. He proceeded then, as before, to the pool of blackest water, and the clear skies of night were lost amongst the leaves. All was quiet as he gazed into that smoothed and liquid darkness. This, I knew, was to be my chance. I stepped from my place of concealment and began to decry him, casting my censure upon Reimer and naming before him the vile acts of pagan villainy which I had myself observed. His mute shock was but for a moment, before he let out a noise the likes of which I can scarce describe, and charged towards me, his fingers curled to claws that sought my face and eyes. I wasted no time, and drew my small sword, and praised to God, who gifted me foresight to carry it. I struck Reimer a fierce blow to the leg. He fell, still clutching at me, and in a moment, cast my sword away into the trees and grabbed at my coat. With a fierce strength never before awakened within me, I gripped the head of my foul adversary, and forced it down, into the dark pool before us. There I held it, the water so cold upon my skin the marks have yet to fade. And Reimer thrashed, and kicked, and made such sounds as I have never before heard of the dying. And he was still. I drew him up with the black water still thickly flowing from him. He was dead at my hand, and though I well knew it to be an act of defense and retribution, I felt within me a sudden terror of discovery. I took my sword and returned to hiding in the dense growth of the forest, fearing that, should I return upon the path, my passing might be met and marked. Better to wait until I had the surety of unseen passage. And as I waited there, the enormity of my actions settled upon me like lead, and Reimer’s dark-eyed compatriots arrived to attend him. Seeing him prostrate and lifeless upon the ground was clearly a shock, and their distress was marked upon them. And yet there seemed no sadness or horror within their passion, but surprise and confusion, and the question they cast between them was that of what was to be done, for it seemed Reimer was vital to a task as yet unfinished. His body was borne up by them and taken away, at the time, I believed, for burial. And when I was certain I was once again alone, I fled, leaving those infernal waters for good and all. And were that the end of my poor story, you may well imagine my confession of such to you, for laying it in writing is an unburdening beyond what I could have foreseen. And yet it was not this that inspired in me the need to write you an account. It was what occurred but two days past, for I was in my observatory making my notes of adjustments, as my position requires, when I was called upon, not unusually, by the president of the Royal Society. I was astonished at how cordial his conduct seemed, his temper even and his heat steady. But it was not the attitude of the president that robbed my tongue of speech. It was that in his visit, he was accompanied by Edmund Halley. My dear Reimer, whose body had gone cold and still in my own cruel hands. He had - little to say, it seemed, as the president went over, once again, some - detail of my equipment, and Reimer, who was and is dead, simply watched me in solemn silence. Were it not for his handing books to the president, I should have thought him a shade or haunt, but his substance was far more than such could ever achieve. At length, Mr. Newton took his leave, and Reimer went to follow. Before his departure, an exit that could not come too soon for my nerves, he turned towards me, and grasped me firmly by the shoulders. In my shock and fear, I offered no fight, and returned his gaze as he began to thank me. His gratitude was so plain and sincere that I could scarce understand it as he spoke, but he repeated it again and again, thanking me for his life. For his freedom. I stared into his eyes, and though they met mine, I saw spreading inside them the darkness and mist. Whether he be blind now, I know not, but those were not the eyes of Edmond Halley, though they were the eyes of my Reimer, the one I couldn’t destroy. It is with this at the forefront of my thoughts that I write to you, Abraham. I know you have some small acquaintance with him, and I must warn you Halley is no longer Halley. He may appear as such, and - ape those previous observations of his own, and those more skilled, but it is not him. Look into his eyes, and you will know. You will - know.

ARCHIVIST (heavy inhale, hint of surprise) Statement ends. (long exhale) Right. [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] [INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE, SOME TIME LATER] [TAPE CLICKS ON.] BASIRA So? ARCHIVIST So Edmund Halley was Rayner. Or, at least - whatever was inside him. You said it was dead, though. BASIRA I thought it was. We shot him to hell before he could, uh… pour himself into that kid. ARCHIVIST Hm. BASIRA But I mean - didn’t you say he got blown up in World War I as well? ARCHIVIST Ah, uh, possibly the - the details are, um - (exhale) it’s not exactly clear. BASIRA You don’t- Know? ARCHIVIST No, and I’m not about to push my luck and try to force it. Besides, I, I rarely get anything when the Dark is involved? It’s a bit of a blind spot. BASIRA Hm. Point is, we can’t be sure. ARCHIVIST Agreed. BASIRA You don’t know what the ritual for the Dark is, right? ARCHIVIST Not really, no; um, based on this and everythi - uh, something to do with the Sun, I would guess? I, um - an eclipse, maybe. BASIRA I don’t think so. There’s not one due for a while, and I’ve been wondering for ages - why Ny-Ålesund? I mean, sure, that far North, it gets dark for a long time, but - there’s also really long days in the summer. ARCHIVIST Okay. BASIRA But I think - Have you got a pen? ARCHIVIST Uhh - Yeah, i-in the drawer. [BASIRA OPENS THE DRAWER.] BASIRA Ah, John. What’s this? [SHE PICKS SOMETHING UP.] ARCHIVIST Hm? Oh. That’s… I, th, uh - that’s my rib. BASIRA (Pythagorean theorem, volume of a cone) Right. [SHE PUTS IT BACK.] ARCHIVIST Yep. BASIRA And… the jar of ashes. ARCHIVIST (stress.exe) Not - not, m,mine - I mean, it belongs to me, I, I, I guess, but it’s not - stationery is in the, uh, other drawer. [SOUNDS AS THE STATIONERY IS RETRIEVED.] BASIRA Right, thanks. ARCHIVIST Mm. [THE DRAWER IS CLOSED.] BASIRA Okay. [RUSTLE OF PAPER.] BASIRA Now… Look here. ARCHIVIST R-Right, ye-yes, I, I know where it is. BASIRA I don’t think Ny-Ålesund is the ritual location. ARCHIVIST Right. BASIRA I think it’s a, a staging ground. ARCHIVIST For what? BASIRA The darkest place on the surface of the Earth. The North Pole, during the winter solstice. ARCHIVIST I hope you’re not suggesting that Santa works for the People’s Church. BASIRA (exasperated) John. It’s eleven weeks of pitch-black night, as far from the Sun as you can get on the planet.

ARCHIVIST Alright. So, why haven’t they done it already? BASIRA I think they were waiting for Rayner to get his new body. But my source is telling me now that they’re gearing up for something. ARCHIVIST These… sources, are they same ones that sent you to the Australian Outback while I was… burying myself alive? [BASIRA SIGHS OVER HIS WORDS.] BASIRA Their info is normally good. ARCHIVIST (yeah, right) Hmm. BASIRA There is one more thing that might convince you. ARCHIVIST They have an eldritch ball of some sort of manifested dark matter that’s going to be the focus of the ritual. BASIRA I thought you said you couldn’t Know things about them. ARCHIVIST I can still read. Actually, you should - probably see that stateme - you know what, no, later. (heavy inhale) So what’s the plan? BASIRA I’m getting us passage on a boat heading up there. ARCHIVIST Right. BASIRA I bring all the guns from Daisy’s old stash, you bring the spooks you used to mess up that delivery guy. [LONG PAUSE.] ARCHIVIST What - That’s it? Christ, I thought my plans were half-assed. BASIRA It’s all about when we go. ARCHIVIST I don’t follow. BASIRA Summer solstice is the 21st of June. So, we leave in a fortnight. [THE ARCHIVIST BEGINS TO TAKE A HEAVY BREATH AS SHE SPEAKS.] BASIRA (CONT’D) And should arrive about a week before. No danger of sunset or darkness for a long time. Stands to reason that they’ll be at their weakest. ARCHIVIST I don’t know. Is Daisy coming? BASIRA (short pause) No. ARCHIVIST Oh. I, I just thought - BASIRA We’ve talked about it. If the Hunt takes her again, we don’t know if she’s coming back. And neither of us want that. ARCHIVIST No, o-o-o-of course. And I, I don’t imagine Melanie would be keen to come. BASIRA She wasn’t. ARCHIVIST Why am I always the last to know about these things? BASIRA By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you. ARCHIVIST That would imply it tells me anything useful. Now I’m stuck knowing how your year eight PE teacher died. BASIRA Miss Peterson? ARCHIVIST Pancreatic cancer. If you’re interested. BASIRA I - wasn’t? ARCHIVIST (struggles for a moment) No - no, o-of course not. [HE CLEARS HIS THROAT.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) Alright, so just - me and you, then. (sigh) I don’t suppose you could get some of the team that helped you take Rayner down last time. BASIRA Oh yeah, sure. I’ll just drop them a message. [THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS.] BASIRA (CONT’D) You know, we’ve actually got a group chat going called ‘British Cops who love to do extrajudicial spook killings on foreign soil.’ [MORE SIGHING.] BASIRA (CONT’D) I’ll just see if they’re free Saturday - ARCHIVIST (overlapping) Yes, yes, alright! Alright. (sigh) You’re sure about this? BASIRA No. But if I’m right, this is the best chance we’re going to get. And I can’t do it alone. ARCHIVIST Okay, then. (inhale of bolstered confidence) Let’s do it. [EXHALE.] [TAPE CLICKS OFF.]

@@petraivan6778 thank you :3

No problem :)

Just as we gobble up the tma episodes 😂

she had ended up inside the coffin, with the Buried. Jon rescued her

its a pretty great episode where he frees daisy from the buried - you should listen to it! since then, they've been friends.

@@dizzy388 I think UKposts keeps messing up the the order of the episodes

@@nialls.9939 ah - that's annoying

@@dizzy388 I downloaded an app called acast and restarted the whole thing. There's ads between episodes but the episodes play fully uninterrupted