Helen's speech patterns and laughter are exactly the same as Michael's now, it's very disturbing. Even that little sigh after laughing echoingly... This series has a lot of good characters and excellent voice actors, but Helen's little arc and the acting behind me have me particularly impressed.

I love that the man whose last name is “Wakely” is obsessed with sleep

Boy, just love Helen showing up now and being all " H̝͖͓̳͕͓̩ͬ̽̇̒̽e͍̦͍͉̻̜̞̋͊ͤ̆l̛̞̘̭̤͈̬l̴͔̖͙̆ͬ̈́ͥ̈ǒ̧̅ͦ̾̿ͦ,̫̣͙͚ ̞̼̳̜͌͗ͩ͑̓ͥͤȦ͚͓̮͙̗̿͡r̜̺̺̜ͬ̏c̝͎̯͎͚ͩ̃ͬ͝h̺̆i̠̽̇̿͆̇͗v̥̳͈͐͌ͯ̎i̷̞̳̦͔s̳͕̰̻͚̭ṯ͖̼͉̙̺̱̆͞!̷̬͕͚̩̺̮̏ͮ!"

"when did your discomfort EVER stop you from serving the Beholding" and "no, it gives it a certain flavor. a seasoning" are both comedically terrifying

This guy really confessed a murder through neglected support to his friend and was surprised that he was not cool with it

bro just wants to take a nap i get it i get it

"I cut the cord, and then he was quiet" has got to be one of the most chilling lines in this whole series i've heard. brrr this episode got to me, especially with the narrators gradual corruption

um I don't APPRECIATE the FACT that Jon just calls her JANE now... (He feels closer to her and understands her better 😥)

why dont u just get a weighted blanket and maybe you'll calm down

Maybe Jon remains so close to who he was because the Eye requires a degree of objectivity. To see what is really there, to STARE into someone, you need that, as well as the human mind to understand humans. So, Jon remains more himself than most Avatars, so that he can do that.

As someone with sleeping issues, some parts of this guy’s argument actually sound pretty great. Not a fan of the whole suffocation business but he makes getting buried sound kinda cozy, especially when it’s your own breathing that keeps you up at night.

"my physicality is as much an illusion as anything else about me" is both a perfect statement of my gender identity and the rawest fucking line ive ever heard

I like Helen, but I miss Michael :(

As much as I miss good ol' Mike, Helen's voice and laugh is awesome

Me listening to this like "Is this the End or the Buried?" *listens to the second letter* "Ah, the Buried"

Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that this Wakely dude is the one who created The Coffin. He's an Avatar of the Buried and is a Gravedigger, if he isn't the origin of that thing I will be shocked

I find it fascinating how one person can put on completely different genders, professions, mindsets, epochs and talking styles and just. Write from that perspective. A dude writing letters from XIX century? There you go, religious talk, slightly rarer expressions, general mildness. A cult person obsessed with their faith? Please welcome: a lot of aggression, obsession and threats. A person who is going crazy with their lack of sleep? Oh, you can _hear_ it happening. As a writer and a literary scholar, I am extremely impressed. I won't even talk about Helen and Jon's interaction here. It's all high-quality drama and incredibly interesting thoughts, and you don't talk about that shit, you feel it with every fiber of your damned soul.

The poor guy thought his friend was bae but turns out he was just fam

everyone in the comments are always sharing spooky things that happen while listening to tma, and i’ve finally got my own haha. right after the line “he deserved to rest. so i cut the cord” my earbuds died. i sat there for a minute just stunned, so freaky

This is the first time we heard Helen properly Laugh like Micheal! Every time she’s on screen I can hear her slowly become more and more part of the distortion!!!

The part when you realized someone alive's been buried and the Avatar of the Buried cut off his bell in a matter of a few sentences. Terrifying

"something interfering with my connection to the eye" Jon it's not wifi

I don't usually like The Spiral but I am proud of Helen for starting to get the echo in her laugh

The problem here is not enough lateral thinking. The Distortion feeds on the fear and confusion of believing oneself to have gone insane. The actual death by starvation is beside the point. So why not catch and release? Why not let them out for a few days to get some food and water before sucking them back in? Why not hang out with them in the hallway cracking jokes and establishing rapport as Michael did with that insomniac woman? Why not set them out and let them live a normal life for years untill they are finally sure it was all a bad dream before sucking them up and setting them someplace in Australia after a week? Why not do it three times? Why not repeat the pattern untill they are *certain* that it will always happen again, then do nothing for decades before showing up as an old friend at their deathbed and offering another way out entirely. The Archivist feeds on the second hand fear of other encounters. The Watcher is not opposed to spreading knowledge. Why not make a deal? Say: "Good morning, I am The Archivest, and you have a story to tell me. You will tell give me your statement because I can explain to you *why* it happened and that is my Price. You will have nightmares after, but I hardly think you need my help for that." Humans one and all have a drive to know and understand after all. Few will refuse such bargain, and if they do it is OK! You don't need to eat *everyone*. There is enough to go around.

Uh... Ummm.... Like... *DIG* That's it. That's the episode.

It's sad that the only one being nice to Jon is Helen. She's the only one he can actually talk to without being harassed.

This guy is creepy but some of the stuff he says hits home to be honest. He might be my favorite non-recurring avatar at the moment

People will just become avatars of fears for good night's sleep in tma

Helen is fascinating to me. Her point of view is so strange and inhuman, but somehow still makes sense in some ways. It certainly gives you something to think about if nothing else.

Hezekiah: i'm always so tired, i just need some rest Me: aw same dude Hezekiah: so,,, i murdered someone Me: 👁👄👁

They need to put a sticky note on John when he’s hungry so people know not to talk to him until after he’s had a statement or two ☠️

I can't be the only one who thinks that an alternative title for this episode could have been "Dirt Nap"

today's episode was written by jonathan sims, *head archivist of the magnus inst-*

Okay it just now dawned on me, the coincidental alignment of the Dreadgods being called patrons, and Alex reading out their patrons at the start of the episodes.

Well hey, Martin might slowly be withdrawing from everyone and everything to join the lonely and Daisy and Basira are hanging on by two separate threads while Jon is struggling with not being even remotely human any more, but as least he and Helen are having nice conversations now

-Can't- No, actually, can _absolutely_ believe that the Burried invented the Weighted Blanket lmao

Ive known Hezekiah for one episode would die for them.

Something hit after thinking about it for a while now. You can feel how terrified Jon still is of the entities as well as most of the avatars, yet he already thinks himself akin to them. So he gravitates towards Hellen/The Distortion, the way she came to him for comfort when she first started dealing with her new identity. They are the only ones who can really understand each other's plight, even though Hellen has already slipped away into insanity to a point she's a horrible influence on Jon. He just hasn't realized it yet. Meanwhile, Martin remains surprisingly stable, albeit increasingly irritated when he's forced to deal with other people directly, taking it all in strides. He's even teaching Peter not to torture people on a whim and more or less treats The Eye of all things as Jon's weird new pet that sometimes hangs out at his place. The way he talked to the recorder in the beginning of the season kinda reminded of how someone would talk to their housemate's cat.

Oof that part at the end got me. Gotta believe that my boi has the strength to not hurt people. If Love is what stops the lonely, compassion the slaughter ect, I wonder what emotion stops the eye? Acceptance?

(condescendingly - like a haughty funeral guest realizing they shouldn’t mock the deceased’s déclassé tastes in front of the mourners)

honestly as someone who honestly enjoys small spaces and such (I sleep in the closet because its the smallest room in the house) this statement hits close to home. another one to add to my "statements that I feel in my soul." collection. theres suprisingly many

Statement-giver: "And the wind could not reach me in the hole that I had made--" Me: *hears the word 'hole'* Me: DIG.

Hessichia my main man, you make an eternal dirt nap with no air sound like a dream.

I cannot believe that HELEN is the closest thing Jon has to a legitimate, non judgmental support system this season. As much as I will happily welcome more twisty wife I am very worried for Jon’s mental state rn

This is one of the best written episodes of the whole show. This and MAG126 "Sculptor's tool" are both so excellently crafted. I've listened to each of them so many times.

Let my man SLEEP

Oh, that laugh... The Buried always has this... cozy feeling. But at the same time you feel oh so close that I cannot breathe.

As someone named Nathaniel, I feel special

Honestly I feel the guy. I never thought that I may connected somehow with the Buried.

Do you think that John can feed on the Archive's staff ? Or does the Eye already know their story and it wouldn't help. Because they all have enough trauma to feed him. Daisy and Basira were sectioned, they must have tons of stories involving the Entities. They wouldn't have nightmares so it could be a nice alternative.

Helen is the cool aunt we all need at the moment

Okay but actually that dirt nap is sound reeeeal good right about now

Man’s just wanting some sleep, can’t blame him lol

Well....the Distortion clearly enjoys being Helen more than Michael. That's....curious.

I know some people wanted Jon to ‘save’ Helen, but there are some avatars I think are happy enough being what they are. I wouldn’t shame a tiger for eating meat or enjoying a hunt. Michael/Helen was only unhappy when they had other things put into them. They seemed happy enough just being what they were, without the interference of ‘Michael/Helen.’

It's kind of horrific, but I kind of like that the amount of humanity that the Avatars have is up to them and that many just choose to become less emotional to deal with their new "cravings" since most of them kill, maim, or traumatize other people.

I love this statement giver. He is just trying to take a dirt nap. Edit: Holy shit Hezekiah Edit 2: ya know what if we say *DIG DIG DIG* whenever someone says the word dig, like the nightvale fandom with the glow cloud

Helen acts more and more inhuman/ like the Spiral as Jon trusts/accepts her. Jon gets more and more compassionate and understanding the more inhuman he gets. This story is so deep, in the ways that our fear and trauma shape us and how we react to the world

When Helen appears, the only thing I can think of is that that could have been Michael 😭

I've heard of taking a dirt nap, but c'mon man.

Wakely's the definition of "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" 😂 The murder's not cool but otherwise the dude seems chill, I don't blame him for wanting to sleep, laying on/in the ground can be pretty soothing

I have to admit that at this stage I'm going to have to go back and relisten to the entire podcast because right now I'm just listening for the JonxMartin drama

huh I wonder which entity this one's about

I love Helen’s laugh!!

On one hand, Helen’s laugh is great, I love her gradual descent into the Spiral. On the other hand, it being similar to Michael’s makes me miss him so much 🥺 I can’t believe I got so attached to a literal herald of insanity who drags people to madness in the cruelest of ways and enjoys it too. But I do miss him :/

Hi Alex!

"Maybe stab an overeager archivist..."

[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE] [CLICK] ARCHIVIST Statement of Hezekiah Wakely, regarding his career as a gravedigger. Compiled from a series of letters to Nathaniel Beale between 1837 and 1839. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Statement begins. ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT) August, 1837 I’ll thank you again for your endeavors on my behalf, Nathaniel. I’m sure you can always rely on having a true friend in me. I’ve been installed here some weeks now, and I’m finding myself well-contented, my sexton duties keeping my time employed such as I scarce have a chance to allow myself those dark thoughts that so concerned you when last we visited. It’s a fine little church, and the Reverend is a good sort, though I’ll confess to finding his gospel readings tending towards the dull of a Sunday service. Not his fault, of course. The Lord gave him that voice for a purpose, no doubt - but sometimes that purpose does feel like it might be providing me a few minutes of unearned slumber. Still, his conduct towards me has never been less than compassion itself. Why, he told me not yesterday that he’d never seen the church shine like it had since I’ve taken over its maintenance. “Shine?” I says. “Sir, that’s a rare compliment when it comes to cleaning sandstone.” And he laughed heartily, though the joke was of no great consequence. So you may rest easy knowing I am happy enough. My troubled sleep, on the other hand, has not, of yet, resolved itself in any way to my satisfaction. I work myself to exhaustion, cleaning, polishing and looking after the church proper, and I tell you, when I lie abed I can scarce rise again for the weakness I leave myself in. And yet, sleep still eludes me. And when it does not, I wake as though my heart were trying to leap from my chest, and my throat were full of dust and ashes. You need not despair, Nathaniel, I know the bottle will no longer help, and my other labors keep the nights from bothering me as once they did, but I do find myself longing for a true and proper sleep. (pause) I tell a lie. There are some nights I find myself easily slipping to dreamless respite, though you’ll think me a morbid soul for it. Those days I spent digging graves in the churchyard - on those nights I sleep, if you’ll forgive the joke, the sleep of the dead. I’ve never quite known a rest like it. Perhaps it is the harder, more physical aspect of the task, or perhaps the quiet rhythm of it. There’s no echo as there is in the church, just the sound of pick and shovel hitting dirt. And when it’s deep enough, when you stand at the bottom, the noise of the world just… fades away to nothing. It is the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though the commotion and hubbub of life were but a terrible dream, and in sleeping you were waking up to peace. (heh) You’ll laugh, Nathaniel, but I almost wrote that I hope I have a chance to dig more graves. What a thought. No, I’d not wish that, for to dig graves one must have something to fill them, and the good Lord takes that at His own pace. You may satisfy yourself I am content with the position you have found for me, and spare no concern for my well-being or the receipt of your charity. Your humble servant, Hezekiah Wakely February, 1838 Nathaniel, something has happened to me. And I felt it only right to send a letter and let you know of it, being as your last letter expressed such a kind curiosity towards my sleeplessness, and - what I mentioned to you in my earlier letters. My nights have indeed been easier of late, something I may partially ascribe to the recent outbreak of fever in the town - taking more of my time for the grim business of grave digging - and the rest to my gradual settling into my position as sexton. There is such peace in the churchyard, you see: to walk atop the soil knowing that, deep below my feet, those blessed souls wait happy and silent in the cool, damp earth, counting the days until the Resurrection. It gives me such warmth to think of that I have taken to spending much of my unoccupied time wandering the graves, and, where the mood allows me, taking my sleep there. I hope such talk does not upset you, and you may rest assured I am no suicide. It is simply the serenity of the dead I envy, not their lifelessness. I seek no escape from the hardships of life, for since you gave me this position I can call little of my life any true hardship, and I am as free of suffering as I have ever been. But I do long for that rest. I tell myself I wake each day renewed, but I am never as truly satisfied as when I’m in my slumber, and insensible to the world. Perhaps that’s what I hoped to find in my drinking, that gentle oblivion, but it seems like a world ago. I know what it truly is now, walking the churchyard - though you may rest assured I shall wait my turn like a dutiful servant until our Lord sees fit to call me. I do find, however, that when I dig my graves, I have been going deeper. And at times, I worry I might dig so far as I can no longer get out with my meager ladder. Now, those moments - you must not cast judgment on me for this, Nathaniel, for it is simply a passing fancy - but I will often lie myself down on that soft earth, and I will sleep. And I swear to you that the sleep I find there is more blissful than any I have ever found. It was there, not a week ago, that it happened. I was digging a grave for the squire’s father - a cruel and venal man, who I rather doubt has easy found himself in the kingdom of Heaven, but a pure soul is not what buys you a well-appointed cemetery plot, and he had plenty of money to do exactly that. I saw his body, you know, as it was being prepared, and I tell you truly that for all the wickedness that man had done, his body knew gentle repose. Though not as gentle, perhaps, as it might be with six feet of earth atop it. So that was my task, and sure enough, I went about it with my usual fervent duty, such that the work of the day was done by the time the sun were at its height. It was cold that day, and bitter windy, and cracking the ground had been as hard as ice. At least until a few feet down. But by the end of it… oh, I tell you there was warmth in that grave. Whether by my own body or the heat of the soil, I couldn’t say, but it was as comfortable as the fireplace of a public house, and the wind could not reach me in the hole that I had made. So, as is my late habit, I lay down. And I had no sooner done this than a powerful sleep overtook me. I had a dream, then. I dreamt a rain had come. A terrible bitter rain that chilled my bones and turned the soil around me dark and sodden. The walls grew damp and slippery, their firm shape lost as they began to slip and crumble. And then all at once they collapsed, the grave filling in a moment with a wave of mud and wet dirt. In a single terrible moment of utter terror, it was atop and around me, covering my face and filling my lungs with its awful choking sod. And the strangest thing was that it was wonderful. I had never felt such safety as within the crushing weight of earth all around me, the pressing embrace of the buried. In that instant I knew what it was to be dead, and I ached with envy for them. When I awoke I was above ground again, amid the graves. The rain had been no dream, and I was cold and soaked through, wracked with a chill you may well discern from the quality of my hand. It was true, also, that the rain had caused the grave to collapse, though I must have left it shortly before that happened. I was in no state to address the issue, however, and in fact the Reverend had to ask the sexton from St. Mark’s to do so, as I am still laid up in bed with this cough. (heh) Perhaps I shall be joining the churchyard sooner than I dared hope. Write me back soon, for I have precious little to do in this invalid’s bed, and sleep is far from me once again. Your humble servant, Hezekiah June, 1838 I must first thank you for your visit, Nathaniel, although my recovery were well completed, it is always most heartening to see an old friend. I hope that the business that drew your way so abruptly were well completed, and that I may anticipate your company again after not too long. I must tell you I’ve been in some distress these last few weeks, due in no small part of the agitation of the Reverend, who has, of late, succumbed to a very specific, though understandable, mania. The circumstances and causes are easy enough to explain. It was the funeral of young Nellie Cooper that did it, which was a most upsetting affair. I’ll say I have much sympathy with his plight, as I had a chance to view the body myself, and if you’d asked me if I concurred with Doctor Grant’s judgments of death by drowning, I would have agreed without hesitation. She had that peace to her that I’ve spoken of to you before, and I knew how happy she must be to soon be returning to the earth. But that day, as they carried the slim coffin down towards the hole that I had dug, and so recently enjoyed my own calm repose, there was a commotion among the pallbearers. Little Nellie’s coffin began shaking and rocking back and forth, such as they were unable to keep their footing and dropped it. The crash of the wooden casket hitting the earth is a sound I’ll not forget in a hurry, nor the shriek that came from inside the splintered wood as it burst open.

2:10 -- yoooo!!! 16th Power Revealed: The Randy Newman!!! "you've got a true friend me" His music is genuinely terrifying! Didn't know we'd be getting a new power so quickly. Let's Gooooooo!!!!!!

This guy decided to cut the cord and left some poor guy to die, only to surprised his friend disagreed with him. HELEN! :D

The spiral and the buried are probably my favourite entities, love how the writing becomes more dreamy and messy in the statements related to them. Also can definitely relate to wanting nothing but to sleep for a bit so both Fatigue and this episode hit me right on

this is one i come back to over and over. this episode is beyond incredible.

Jon, you DESERVE that mockery from Helen. She once reached out to you, begged for help knowing you were in in a similar situation and YOU turned your back on her. I hope you squirm in your guilt.

Is this a hozier song

ayo why the buried so damn cozy tf

*the children yearn for the grave*

And the descent to madness continues

NO WAY SMIRKE GOT IT RIGHT

This ones gotta be my favorite ep

It's funny how his penpal's name is Nathaniel.

Okay. Anyone know if this one is Buried or End? There's a lot about graves, but all the talk about sleep and peace is quite Endy, and he works in a graveyard, surrounded by death and dirt. I think he might be the guy with the shovel in Underground, but I'm not sure.

Is.. Is that a Hozier quote?

I remember hearing about this its where we get the saying saved by the bell they attached a bell to there tombstone

hehe, sexton

Easily my favorite episode out of the whole series.

such a mood

My mom called Jon "the perpetual goober"

all this guy needs is a weighted blanket and he'll be set fr fr

Hezekiah Wakely - Lovecraft's Dunwich Horror

Yikes!

The laugh,,,

Way too relatable that man just wanted to sleep a rest an damn break from the endless soul draining cycle of capita- life. I more than understand and it doesn’t even bother me, same with train girl....but yeah the world of the Buried isn’t a restful sleep it’s unending torture...but I guess that unending sleep would be Extinction

i also miss michael. i like helen but also :c

He took a dirt nap lol

Aww. He just wants a bit of sleep. He’s just eepy guys don’t be mean to him 🥺!

Nice

Hezekiah my beloved. May he rest well.

Jon, you should have befriended Helen when she asked for help and now look!!!!!!!!!! 😡

17:20 I wanna sleep in the bosom of the earth :(

I am actually quite concerned that I noticed the patreons names where the same as last episode