#you’re his muse… but not in a ‘destined to crash and burn’ type of way

[pollenallergie]

artist!billy knight who almost always ends up recreating your image in his art, sometimes intentionally, other times unintentionally.

billy sits down to paint a landscape painting for a commission, and he thinks to himself, “hmm, i think maybe if i put someone sat at an iron garden table drinking tea somewhere over here, then that would really complete this piece.” so, he adds the person in, thinking up different features for them at random as he goes along, all the while thinking, “yes, yes! that’s much better.” until, finally, he realizes, “shit, that’s my partner. for fuck’s sake, i promised i’d stop putting my partner in my clients’ commissions. well, they’re already there and looking stunning, as always, so it’d really be a waste to just paint over them… might as well just leave them there and hope it doesn’t become an issue with the client.”

[honestgrins]

Fighting Fate || Klaroline

Klaus had heard the warnings, read the legends, and sought them out anyway. Caroline, though, doesn't care what the Fates say; as far as she's concerned, he made his own bed.

.

They stared down at him, their blank expressions unnerving. Near a thousand years he'd been searching for these wizened crones, and Klaus still managed to be surprised at the sheer power radiating from ones even more ancient than he. Summoning the Fates had been something of a folly for him over the centuries; prophecy was nothing more than a tool to manipulate vulnerable populations needing to believe, much as he'd done in spinning the sun and moon curse. 

But once he'd come across just the right coven of witches, the spell was too tempting to pass up. To know one's future? To have the endgame surely in mind, soon to hold it in his grasp? With both his curse broken and his father dead, Klaus had thought New Orleans to be his new conquest. The city, however, had proven to be less diverting than originally promised. Instead, he'd taken to traveling the world, openly exploring places where he'd once only hid. 

It was in Athens, of course, when he happened upon the temple where a particularly helpful witch shared all she knew about the Fates her coven had served for generations. Within weeks, he'd seduced his way into their embrace and found himself in the center of a ritual. Candles burned away, his chest streaked with blood as the witches chanting around him suddenly disappeared, leaving him in the temple bathed only in moonlight. He heard them before he saw them, the utter silence in which they existed louder than any pitiful, human heartbeat.

"The Hybrid," they said as one, their voices an odd harmony that grated his ears. "We have watched you for a long while."

He grinned, his fangs dropping with pride. "So you've heard of me."

The tallest one pinned him with a cruel glare. "Invoking power such as ours is foolish for an immortal. To live so long, surely prophecy will only strangle you."

"So harsh," the largest one chided, her smile kindly maternal. It sent a shiver down his spine, though Klaus would never show it. Even a predator knew when he was being hunted. "He went to some trouble to see us, the least we can do is fulfill his quest."

Be careful what you wish for, Rebekah had spat when he'd told her about finding the temple. You just might get it. He knew she feared another vendetta, another excuse to cling to their family tightly while he began yet another war for power. 

He couldn't explain it, the burning need to know what comes next. 

"Be sure, child," the oldest one croaked, not looking away from her knitting needles. "Once you know, you must grapple with the certainty of your fate, still knowing you cannot fight it."

Blood boiling, Klaus fought back a primal snarl at their condescension. With a sharp smirk, he nodded. "Tell me. What is my fate?"

.

She felt warm. Blinking her eyes open, Caroline took in the early morning sun streaming into the fancy hotel suite. The silk pillow was soft against her cheek, but nothing felt as good as the hand coasting along her bare hip. "Good morning, creeper."

"Creeper?" Klaus dropped slow kisses to her neck, his scruff leaving delightful tingles on her skin.

Turning onto her back, she let a hand card through his hair to hold him close. "Don't pretend like you weren't watching me sleep. I will take it as a win that you're too exhausted to bring out that sketchbook you always seem to have handy in my bed."

He smirked into her lips as he urged her into a deep kiss. "You do make a fantastic muse, love. Especially like this, soft and languid in your repose." Brushing his nose down her neck, he landed on her collarbone and the spray of freckles usually hidden from him. "It's been too long," he mourned quietly.

"We barely made it five years this time," she reminded, voice gentle as her hand resumed scratching through his curls. "And you still haven't told me why you crashed my gala."

It was a triumph, if she said so herself. Her most high-profile event to date, everything went flawlessly - including the Original Hybrid sweeping her off her feet at the end of the night, dressed in a tux tailored so perfectly she almost felt bad tearing it off him.

Almost.

But she knew Klaus, and he rarely made an appearance unless something was wrong. Thirty years as a vampire, and he'd somehow become the constant she would carry throughout eternity. Decades could pass, and their eyes would still meet across a room like they were back in Mystic Falls. They were strangers yet kindred spirits, and the fun was in the tug of wills between them. If he wasn't being overtly megalomanic and even dared to charm her, it wasn't hard to fall into bed with him. She actually kind of loved their dynamic once they were away from the supernatural drama and the more rigid human ideals she'd tried so hard to abide by. 

With him, Caroline could just be. For the girl who always tried too hard, Klaus was something of a relief. 

Except when there was a game being played, then he was a chore. As his hand trailed down to her breast with his predator's gaze heavy on her face, she knew all too well a game was afoot. She tugged on his hair, making him sit up with her. "What's going on?"

"I don't know what you-"

"Klaus."

Sighing, he pulled her into his lap and smiled softly when she allowed it. "You're too clever for  your own good, sweetheart."

"I know," she shrugged. He was always good for an ego boost, and she felt particularly aglow after that fourth round. "Now, tell me."

He brushed her loose hair back from her face, his own expression troubled. "Do you believe in fate, Caroline?"

Taken by surprise, her mouth drops open in thought. "I...don't know. It certainly feels like someone out there is waiting to drop bad news every time something good happens, but usually, it's just you or the Salvatores dropping some fresh hell on my doorstep." She bit her lip. "But do I think there's some larger plan I'm destined to fulfill? God, I hope not. I'd hate to let all my therapists' work to lessen my type-A anxiety planning go to waste because I was meant to be the first vampire to die by panic attack."

With a dark chuckle, Klaus rubbed her back comfortingly. "I've met them," he murmured. "The Fates. I asked them for mine, and..."

Hands shaking, she cupped his face, scared at the sudden steel in his eyes. "Is this why you came to me? Because of whatever prophecy they gave you?"

"I need you to come with me, sweetheart. This fate," he paused, anger and fear and determination thickening the air between them. "It cannot come to pass, but it will if you stay here."

Caroline backed away, not thrilled when he clenched his hands around her wrists. "Klaus, this is not what we agreed to. I'm free, remember? You honored my wish to live as I chose, with the occasional visit and absolutely no commandeering."

Pain crushed his whole face, and she felt helpless at what he must have heard. "This is me honoring your wish to live," he promised - just before he snapped her neck, and everything went black.

.

You will lose that which you hold most dear, over and over and over again. Nothing lasts forever but you.

.

When she awoke for the second time, any warmth she felt was pure rage boiling her from the inside out. The bed was just as soft as the hotel's, but she recognized the scent and peculiar movements of the private jet they were actually on. Oh, she was regretting that trip to Paris now, if only to allow herself to pretend that Klaus hadn't freaking kidnapped her.

But he did.

Caroline didn't know how she'd make him be the one regretting things, not yet. However, she thought she had a strong start with 'getting the hell away from him.' It would take a call to Bonnie, maybe getting Kol or Rebekah to run interference for her, then a whole lot of luck to skirt past his many spies all over the world. 

And maybe she wouldn't punish him forever, but that was a problem for her future self. Her present self wasn't all too keen on cutting him slack anytime soon. Still, she forced herself to hide the true depth of her anger when he somewhat abashedly handed her a blood bag. Petulant and hurt, he would buy. He probably even expected an escape attempt or two. 

She could be patient, and she would wait for the opportunity that might work. Whatever fate Klaus feared, Caroline had no intention to stick around and find out.

[tellmenauineo]

Wandering over the dessert

pairing: woozi x reader

genre: smut, rockstar!au

summary: jihoon is your sun and all you want is to be sunburned

warnings: unprotected sex (blame long term relationship, not me)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: hello i’m typing from the hell!! what’s up duuuudesss? i’m not super confident about that piece of **** (gold) PLEASE SAY IT’S OKAY!! (don’t test my level of english i’m unteacheable)

Loving Jihoon feels like your hand fumbling about the wall for the light switch in total darkness. You touch bare walls that radiate nothing but the cold, it excites your petulancy but you can’t give up on it – you need your room to be light, after all.  And when the dark room finally suffuses with light – it is worth it.

“Have you been smoking?” Jihoon asks as he enters the room.

“You have a selective attention,” you hum, not even turning your head in his direction.

That is it. Your usual greetings.

You are sitting in a rattan chair – the one he bought for you, knowing full well your passion for spending hours on the balcony with book in your hands. He knows all of your passions – for reading, for skiing, for Vermeer’s paintings, for seeing sunrises in the winter, for banana jelly beans.

For him.

Jihoon approaches you from behind, rests his palms on the armrests of the chair, cages you against a piece of the furniture with his upper body. His light breathing tickles your neck, but you are pretending it doesn’t send goosebumps down your spine.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his lips are moving against your hair. You are too distracted with his presence, his scent, his touch to focus on the lines on the page.

Oh God, you won’t let him win this time.

You incline your head slightly to avoid his touch, but he mirrors your action and attaches his lips to the back of your head again. His right hand left the armrest and now is lazily rubbing circles into your hip.

“How was your concert?” you ask instead.

“Could be worse,” he simply answers, moving his lips to your ear lobe. He teasingly sinks his teeth into tender flesh of yours and you shiver.

Fuck. No way. No fucking way.

“I see,” you are just able to say. Your hands tighten on the book but you can’t read a single word.

He hums in return, his warm mouth is on your pulse point now, and you already know that he can feel how he makes your heart beats higher, that –

– he wins.

“Could be better too,” he whispers against your skin. “If you’d come.”

All you want is to push him against the wall, pull at his black hair and kiss the air out of his lunges, but instead you force yourself to speak again.

“So you noticed.”

A little chuckle leaves his lips. You are his silly girl.

“It was such a waste of time without my little muse watching me,” he says and licks up and down your neck. His mouth is so hot that your skin is burning under it and it makes your stomach flip.

“I don’t envy your fans,” you murmur, your head finally turns to his, his lips are crashing on yours. It isn’t a sweet, delicate kiss, it is slow and filthy, with a lot of tongue and clashing of teeth. You tug on his soft locks, pulling his head away from yours to look in his eyes.

“My fans aren’t fussy as you are, birdie. They love me and I love them, but- “

“Oh, look at you,” you interrupt him. “The Great Poet has a God complex,” you playfully mock, still keeping your palm in his hair.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“It’s my future job,” you mumble against his mouth and painfully slow lick his lower lip and carefully bite it. He utters a low moan that encourages you to deepen the kiss, your tongue enters his mouth and even the sound of that dirty, torrid lip action turns you on. Your fingers are playing with buttons on the collar of his shirt and Jihoon impatiently takes your palm away and grips it. He can feel your grin through the kiss and whispers.

“There’s no need to play these little games,” his voice surprisingly sounds so gentle and it strikes a deep chord in your heart. “You can have me anytime you want.”

You can consider these words as a rarity. Generally speaking, he has never told it before. There was a scenario – you love him, you want him. He loves you, he allows you. You do ridiculous things to draw his attention. He answers with a little grin playing on his thin lips. You wait for him. He writes songs about you. You watch him on the stage. He serenades. You mutter “I love you” in his ear. He keeps silent and traces figure-eight patterns on your bare back.

But there is no need to play these little games anymore.

The book crashes to the floor, Jihoon lifts you up – you are wrapping your legs around his waist, and while he is carrying you to the bedroom – and there is no doubt about your destination – you are running your thumb over the piercing in his left nipple that shows through the thin material of his silk shirt. He hardly audible groans in your mouth, squeezing your butt.

You are on the bed, Jihoon covers you with his figure, kissing you harshly, biting your lips and licking them. Being buried under the weight of his body is one of the most delightful feelings for you and you utter a bratty whine when he separates your bodies to strip the shirt from his back. You follow along him, sit up and let him pull your oriental robe off your shoulders, unclasp your bra, slide it off your arms. The piece of clothing is thrown to the floor and you think it should join Freud’s Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality on the balcony’s floor, because maybe, just maybe, it could be a such well-made composition.

When he is about to connect your lips again, you prevent him, placing your hand on his chest.

“Let me touch you,” you whisper. He pauses, admiring your features and you waste no time and lean up to put your lips around his nipple. The cold metal of the piercing becomes warm in your mouth and you slowly bite and then lick the sensitive flesh. A moan, such a pleasant sound, leaves his lips and you hum against his skin. Your lips leave his chest and you place sloppy kisses over his collarbones, shoulders and then attach your mouth to his neck. When you finally toss your head back, you notice a purple-red mark on his pale skin that looks like a rosebud.

You always have been thinking that rosebuds are prettier than actual flowers. They have a potential. They have a mystery. They have a cold passion.

Just like Jihoon.

But, unlike rosebuds, his cold passion hits you with hot flames, not with thorns.

When you feel his finger tracing around the small pink bow at the front of your panties and then moving a little down to your covered folds, you close your eyes and bite your lower lip. Jihoon presses his thumb to your clit through soaked underwear, but you want more and he knows that – he knows everything about you.

And he gives you more.

He pulls down your underwear and pushes two fingers inside of you. You moan and Jihoon stares at you in awe – with a blush suffused your cheeks and closed in pleasure eyes, you look almost like an angel.

A fallen angle.

He strokes his digits in and out of you, his fingertips are brushing against your walls, and you grip on the pillow and let out a dirty, loud moan.

“My baby’s naughty, isn’t she?” he muses. “So tight,” he is pressing his thumb to your clit and circling around it. “So good.”

He is scissoring his fingers inside of you and it pushes your over the edge. You are a panting mess under him, your breathing is wavy, but it feels so good, so right, so delicious.

When Jihoon slides his fingers out of your pussy, you open your eyes to meet his – dark with lust.

“Open your pretty little mouth, love.”

Jihoon makes you suck on his fingers, glistening with your arousal and you willingly take it. You take everything he offers to you.

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “And good girls deserve the best.”

He gets rid of his pants and boxers and positions himself between your thighs. You move your hips against him to get some friction and he pins your lower body to the mattress with his, stopping you from any movement.

A classic of the genre.

“Tell me how you want it,” Jihoon traces his tongue over rim of your ear, the tip of his cock is rubbing along your entrance.

“Slow,” you say, having a bone in your throat. Your fingers tighten on his shoulders, the tingling sensation is rinning through your body.

You have him now.

When you feel him deep inside of you, stroking in and out with slow, passionate and sensual thrusts, you start trembling. He is in you, he is on you, he is around you.

And your world is so full now, everything falls into place and you are the best version of yourself.

His cock slides in and out your pussy, stretching your walls with his length. Jihoon drowns in the sound of your gasps, his eyes are misted, his lips softly caressing yours.

Jihoon’s movements become frantic, but still remain gentle. You can’t take it anymore, it is so good, so painful, so sensational, so blood-boiling that it builds a hot wave circling through your body. A blissful moment he gives you. Jihoon thrusts in you, you clench on him and when he comes undone deep inside of you, you cover his moans with your mouth.

He doesn’t climb off you, placing gentle and loving kisses on your forehead, cheeks, nose, chin. He raises himself on his elbows to get a better look at you and you wipe sweat off his brow with your thumb. The room is dark, Jihoon’s face is the only thing you are able to see with your dilated pupils.

“Honey, with you we don’t need candles,” he quietly says, lacing his fingers into your hair. “You’re glowing.”

Because it is true.      

Because you are his light.

[aqlemonade]

You Look Handsome In Your Christmas Sweater - Biadore

AN: *Screams for 45 minutes* And now,  Wonderwall. 

Summary: Roy and Danny have some surprises up their sleeves for each other this Christmas. 

Straddling Roy, Danny handed him a shot. “Cheers!” They clinked their glasses together before quickly downing the liquid. Roy hissed at the burn, placing his glass on the table next to them. With newly free hands he gripped Danny’s ass. The younger settling easily in Roy’s palms.

“We survived another Christmas,” Danny mused. The furry hat he wore all night still placed on his head, long raven hair spilling out from under it. Roy reached up to run his fingers through the ends.

“Tell that to my kitchen,” he alluded to the disaster left behind from the gathering.

“Yeah, someone threw the mashed potato brick on the floor to see if it would break.” Roy groaned thinking of having to clean it up. “But don’t worry about that right now!” Danny pulled Roy’s attention back to him. “You look handsome in your Christmas sweater,” Danny flirted with his bottom lip between his teeth and a smile on his his face.

Roy scoffed. “I look like an idiot.”

“I think it’s hot.” Danny leaned in to press his lips against Roy’s. Softly at first. Their kisses were slow and gentle. Danny gripped the back of Roy’s neck, quiet moans being let out into his mouth. Heavier, and more intense the kissing grew. Roy yanked the hat off of Danny’s head so he could fan his fingers out in his hair, careful not to pull on the wig too harshly.

Danny’s hand slipped under Roy’s sweater as he began to grind down on his lap. Gentle fingertips traced the skin. He inched his shirt up every so often, needing to touch Roy, but not possessing the strength to pull away from him to take it off.

“That reminds me,” Roy broke the kiss. Danny whimpered at the loss. “I have one last gift for you,” Roy announced, maneuvering Danny off of his lap to go get it. When he returned he held something behind his back. Danny perked up, excited to see what Roy had gotten him. Golden wrapping paper covered the present. A pretty pink bow tied around it. “Merry Christmas, angel,” Roy handed off the gift.

It had some weight to it. Danny eagerly began ripping the wrapping paper to shreds. A confused look flashed across his face. Danny examined the item. “It’s my laptop?” He asked. Roy smugly chuckled. He knew Danny wouldn’t understand the gift until he explained it.

“It is your laptop. The gift is what’s inside it.” Danny immediately opened the computer, expecting a card or money to fall out. When nothing happened he turned to Roy again, the same adorable, confused expression on his face. “You know all those videos we’ve been making?” Danny nodded his head, remembering how Roy had asked for permission to record a few of their hookups. The one after he teased him relentlessly at his meeting, the time during the ABCD tour when Courtney and Darienne had been eavesdropping; he would never forget Roy breaking into his house to suck his dick—due to video evidence and the fright of thinking you’re five seconds away from being murdered.

“Well, they were for this,” Roy tapped the laptop. “I put every video we ever made in a file on your computer...And a few I made for you myself.” Danny was a bit shocked. Roy was always more reserved than him when it came to his sexuality. Don’t get it wrong, Roy was a great fuck. He knew what he was doing, and knew Danny’s body even better. He had moves that made Danny believe in God. He just wasn’t the type of person to show it off. Asking Danny if he could film them together had the younger knocked off his feet, this completely blew him away.

There was a short pause that made Roy feel like the gift was a bust before Danny threw his arms around him. “I love it!” He said, pecking Roy’s cheek. “I can’t wait to watch these, especially the ones you made on your own,” Danny’s voice was low, a sultry bite in the tone of it as he played with the collar of Roy’s sweater.

Roy’s mouth went dry. To this day he could still be surprised by how attractive Danny found him. He never felt so wanted by someone in his life.

Roy cleared his throat, “There’s a few,” he attempted to keep a confident and composed semblance. “I used that pink dildo you love so much,” Roy reached down to squeeze Danny’s ass, the whirlwind of his words and the unexpectedness of it making Danny moan out loud. “And I know how hot you think Bianca is, so she might make an appearance.”

A wide grin spread across Danny’s face, the result of shock and a pleased lover. Roy hated doing anything sexual in drag. It was only once or twice that Danny got to be with Bianca like that. The fact that Roy sat down in full drag, without the comfort of Danny’s presence, to record himself getting off for this gift because he knew about Danny’s crush on Bianca made the affection Danny had for him burst in his chest.

Danny crashed his lips against Roy’s, backing him up in their lip-lock until he hit into the couch. Danny pushed him down, moving to straddle him again like before. He leaned in, catching Roy’s lips in kiss after kiss. Danny didn’t give him the satisfaction of making out yet. The way Roy chased his lips every time he pulled away let Danny know the anticipation he was building up would be explosive.

“Why don’t we make another video right now?” Danny whispered against Roy’s lips, his pupils growing darker. Roy nodded his head frantically, looking up at his lover like a needy puppy. With a smirk on his face, Danny reached for his laptop. Keeping his position on Roy’s lap. It was a bit awkward waiting for the computer to start up, then waiting for the webcam to turn on. Danny leaned over to position it on top of a few pillows next to them. “That should be good. Thank God you’re rich, or else this couch wouldn’t be big enough for us to do this on.” Roy laughed, genuinely laughed. He thought Danny was one of the funniest people he knew.

Not in the mood to waste any more time, Roy pulled Danny’s shirt over his head. He loved the way Danny’s body looked when he hadn’t shaved for a while. Roy pressed his lips to pale skin, hands roaming Danny’s back. The man on top moaned when Roy’s tongue licked up his abs, his fingers raking through Roy’s hair. He started kissing Danny’s chest, lavishing him with gentle attention.

Roy kissed around Danny’s nipples. Using the tip of his tongue Roy traced the hardened nubs as Danny whimpered above him. Roy was so dominating that it was easy for Danny to lose focus of what he wanted to do and melt into the older man. With a clear destination in mind, Danny tilted Roy’s chin up, connecting their lips once again. Danny kissed him slowly and thoroughly, passionately enough to make Roy’s knees weak. Slipping in tongue only made it better. Danny loved the taste of Roy, and Roy loved the sounds Danny made.

His hands found their way to Danny’s ass again, squeezing his cheeks as they made out. Danny giggled against Roy’s lips, moving down to kiss across his jaw. “I think the earrings are hot, too,” Danny breathed into Roy’s ear causing goosebumps to flare up on his skin.

“I know. That’s why I started wearing them again.” Roy put so much effort into Danny that Danny never really noticed. In the same way Danny would post nudes knowing Roy would see them, Roy would do things like this.

Feeling a sudden need for skin on skin, Danny hooked his fingers under the hem of Roy’s sweater. It was a shame to see it go. Danny thought Roy looked delicious in it. He tossed the garment to the floor. Leaning in, the first thing Danny did was hug Roy. Nuzzling his face into his lover’s tan chest, he clasped his arms around him. Danny really did just want to feel Roy’s skin against his. It was electric, but calming all at once. Roy chuckled. He ran a hand up and down Danny’s back as he kissed his head.

Their hug turned into Danny sucking hickeys into Roy’s chest. “Fuck, Dan,” Roy gritted out, holding a fistful of Danny’s hair. Danny smiled against his skin. The reactions he earned from Roy were the best prize he could receive. As Danny continued a path down Roy’s stomach, Roy raised his hips in search of Danny’s. His dick was growing harder, his pants getting more confining. When he reached Roy’s navel Danny nipped the skin above it, his hands settling on the waistband of Roy’s pants.

“Let’s get you out of these,” Danny said as he started working on the buttons and zipper. Roy was quite surprised. Danny was usually more of a tease than this. If he could get Roy to beg, he would. Instead, Roy was lifting his butt off the couch to help Danny pull the underwear off of him.

Sprawled out naked in front of him, Danny admired all of Roy. His eyes were blown out by lust, his mouth watering as he licked his lips. He splayed his hands over Roy’s pecks, making a gasp tumble from Roy’s lips. The attraction Danny felt towards Roy was primal. He wanted to jump his bones every time they were together. Danny would never understand how Roy didn’t see how gorgeous he was.

The silent admiration of his lover came to a quick end when Roy started palming Danny through the thin fabric of his leggings. Danny groaned, his eyes rolling back as he started grinding into Roy’s touch. Danny felt amazing in Roy’s hand, making him even more desperate to finally have him. Roy pulled Danny back in for a sloppy kiss. He sucked on his bottom lip, biting at the delicate flesh. Danny couldn’t take any more waiting. He was aching for Roy.

The younger quickly shimmied out of his pants, leaving his thong on for Roy’s enjoyment. Roy’s hands traveled up Danny’s soft thighs, coming to rest on his round ass. Danny never had to guess what Roy’s favorite part of his body was as his hands always found their way back to it. A harsh slap to his asscheek made him choke. Danny leaned down to kiss Roy’s neck as he groped him. Danny placed tender kisses to the sensitive flesh, letting his tongue roll over the skin. Hearing Roy grunt under his breath was music to Danny’s ears. He scraped his teeth over Roy’s neck, careful not to leave a mark on Roy’s body that wasn’t easily covered by clothing.

As Danny kissed him Roy began palming him again. It was hard for Roy to be the receiver, to let Danny pamper him like that while he did nothing. He always wanted to give; Usually more than he received. At least with Danny that was.

“Mine,” Danny huffed out against Roy’s skin. He licked a hot stripe up Roy’s neck that made him squirm. “Mine,” he said again, nibbling Roy’s earlobe. Looking into his eyes, Danny repeated, “Mine?” This time as a question. Roy cupped Danny’s cheek. By the look on his face Roy knew Danny was actually asking. He nodded his head, keeping eye contact.

“Yours.”

Danny couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. His relationship with Roy would always be confusing, but at the end of the day they both knew they’d pick each other over anyone else.

Hopping off of Roy’s lap, Danny moved to lie down on his back. He asked Roy to take his thong off, then get into 69. Roy’s ass hovered over Danny’s face, Danny’s beautifully hardened cock begged for Roy’s attention. Danny wrapped his arms around Roy’s thighs, one hand resting on each cheek.

Roy didn’t have the patience to wait. He took Danny into his mouth, deepthroating his dick until he gagged on it. Danny moaned loudly, his head falling back as his eyes fluttered shut. Roy was amazing. So thorough and attentive it made Danny’s thighs shake. Danny groaned, he couldn’t let the stars Roy made him see distract him from doing the same for him.

He spread Roy’s cheeks open, diving into him. Danny kissed Roy’s hole, moaning against him as Roy sucked him off. Danny used suction. Each kiss firmer, and more suckling than before.

Roy started playing with Danny’s balls. His fingertips lightly tracing the hypersensitive area while his mouth never let up. Danny’s body jerked at the sensation. His moaning against Roy’s asshole sent vibrations of ecstasy through Roy’s body that caused him to moan around Danny’s dick.

Short, soft licks graced Roy’s hole. The man popped Danny out of his mouth to catch his breath. “You’re fucking amazing,” Roy growled, his body contorting with the pleasure it felt. Danny had an abnormally long, and large tongue. With the talent to back it up. It was a gift from God if you asked Roy. Danny flattened the entirely of it over Roy’s asshole, using more pressure than before to press against him. His licking purposely became sloppier the more Roy whimpered at it. Acting on pure instinct, Roy pushed his ass against Danny’s face. His enthusiasm encouraging a new ferocity in Danny.

Roy tried to focus his attention towards Danny despite the fact he could barely keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his skull. Danny biting into his asscheek made him yelp. “Fuck,” Roy mumbled. Focus, he thought. He dribbled a string of spit onto Danny’s cockhead, watching it slide down his shaft. The younger twitched under Roy at the sensation. Roy started stroking Danny’s cock, feeling the effect it had on his lover as he let out noises of approval against him.

“Roy,” Danny moaned his name as Roy jerked him off. His body twisted towards Roy, wanting more of what he had to offer. Roy took Danny’s dick back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip. He decided to indulge Danny’s desires. The youngers back arched off of the couch. His toes started to curl. Unable to do anything with his mouth but grunt and whimper, Danny moved away from Roy. Though Danny had stopped, Roy didn’t. The younger’s chest heaved as his body squirmed.

Danny’s hand tangled in his own hair, his eyes screwing shut. He swallowed, trying to compose himself enough to give Roy everything he deserved. Danny reached down, blindly searching for the lube bottle they kept under the couch. With his free hand, Danny started massaging Roy’s hole. A loud moan broke from Roy’s lips. A smirk appearing on Danny’s face upon hearing it. He finally felt the plastic bottle, grabbing it to bring up to his level. He squirted a bit directly onto Roy’s asshole, tenderly spreading it around. He coated his fingers, tossing the now empty bottle onto the coffee table.

Danny used a single finger to give attention to Roy’s entrance. “You ready?” Danny asked. A hum around his cock that sent shivers through his thighs coming as the only answer. Danny lightly swatted Roy’s ass. “Give me a real answer, you gorgeous fuck,” he teased.

Roy chuckled around him, and God did that feel like a piece of heaven. “Yes,” Roy said, barely missing a beat as he devoured Danny again. His tongue running up and down Danny’s shaft had the power to distract Danny from anything, but he wouldn’t let it. Gently, he began prodding at Roy’s hole. The tip of his finger slipped in. Thanks to a generous amount of lube, and a perfectly relaxed body he had no trouble gliding the rest of the way in. 

He started opening Roy up. In addition to his tongue, Danny’s fingers were oddly long as well. Fingering was one thing Roy dreaded until he met Danny. That man had a magic touch Roy couldn’t control himself when he felt. “You sound beautiful,” Danny praised the noises his lover made. Goosebumps running up Roy’s arms.

Roy cupped Danny’s balls again, consistently toying with them this time. Danny retaliated with kissing Roy’s hole as he fingered him. It was like they were in a competition to see who could give the other the most pleasure. Both men were a mess of sweat, heaving chests, and glorious moaning. Danny sucked on Roy’s inner thigh as he pressed another finger inside of him, Roy groaning loudly at the addition.

Danny began scissoring his fingers, the only thing that has been able to throw Roy off. His head fell against one of Danny’s legs. He tried pumping him, but lost rhythm thanks to Danny’s mouth and fingers. Feeling Roy’s precum drip on his torso, Danny knew now was the best time to stop. He carefully freed his fingers from Roy’s asshole. “Get off of me,” he pushed Roy down playfully. Crawling to him, Danny hovered over Roy. The long hair he had on fell pass his shoulders, tickling Roy’s chest. “How do you feel?”

He heard the smugness in Danny’s voice. Roy chuckled, “Shut up.” He yanked Danny down into a kiss.

Danny couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being with Roy. It was safe, and familiar, and warm, and beautiful. “Wanna take this to the bedroom?” He asked. Roy nodded his head. “Grab the laptop.”

They walked hand in hand. “Go lie down,” Danny instructed. Roy set up the laptop on the nightstand before lying on his stomach. Danny started searching through their sex drawer. He pulled out more lube, and three different sized butt plugs. Roy bottomed for him often enough that Danny didn’t have to treat him like a virgin, but not enough that he was comfortable shoving his dick inside of him after a bit of fingering. Besides, Danny could use a breather. If they tried it right now he was sure he would cum in five minutes.

“Which one?” Danny brought the toys over to Roy, letting him pick the size he wanted.

“That’ll do,” he pointed to the medium size plug. Danny wasn’t overly big, and Roy still liked the feeling of Danny’s dick stretching him out a bit. The other two plugs were thrown back in the drawer. Danny climbed onto the bed. He coated the toy in lube, squirting more onto Roy as well.

“You’re ready?”

“I am.”

Looking at him now, Danny could see he was stretched a bit from being fingered. The smaller part of the plug fit in without a problem. The wider it got, the tenser Roy became. “Relax, Willow. You’re okay. That’s making it worse,” he said soothingly. Danny caressed Roy’s lower back, not continuing with the plug until Roy was comfortable.

He slowly started pushing it in again, Roy moaning as it delved deeper inside of him. “Fuck!” Roy’s voice mixed in with the pop of the toy when it was fully in. It was an odd feeling. Being filled up and stretched out satisfied him, but the stagnancy of the toy lacked the stimulation he needed to get off.

“How does it feel? Are you comfortable?” Danny checked in with Roy.

“It definitely feels better than when we first used it.”

“I would hope.” Danny bent down to kiss Roy’s ass.

Wanting the toy to stretch Roy out as much as possible before penetration, Danny decided this was a good time to give Roy the gift he was hiding.

“I know it’s not as cool as what you gave me,” Danny started as he dug to the back of Roy’s closet. He managed to hide it there this morning. With all the gifts he brought, Roy hadn’t noticed one didn’t make it under the Christmas tree. “But I hope you like it.” Danny pulled out a gift basket. Bringing it over to the bed, he let Roy unwrap his present: A collection of his favorite massage oils, flavored lubes, scented candles, lingerie that Danny would wear for him some other time, fuzzy pink handcuffs that they always talked about using, and a dick lollipop because Danny couldn’t help himself.

An amused smile flashed on Roy’s lips. “This is actually pretty cool, Dan,” Roy reassured him. “I love it. Thank you,” Roy pushed himself up to peck Danny’s lips.

“Choose one,” Danny pushed forward all of the massage oils. Roy scanned them over for a while before picking one that smelled like honey. Quickly, Danny discarded everything else. He shoved the items back in the basket, save for the oil and a cinnamon vanilla candle. Danny would never forget the scent. It was the same one Roy had burning the first time they had sex. The smell of it always turned them on. Danny used it more than a few times to seduce Roy. He lit the wicks before climbing back into bed.

With oil slicking his hands, Danny started the massage at Roy’s shoulders. He worked through tension in the muscles, pressing down with a bit of pressure. A deep moan sounded from Roy’s lips. The feeling of the plug filling him up along with Danny’s hands rubbing his body down was blissful. Danny smiled at the pleasure Roy got from it. His chest warm and fuzzy at the accomplishment.

His hands smoothed down Roy’s back, making sure to caress his sides as well. Focusing his attention on Roy’s ass, Danny poured extra oil on him. He kneaded it into Roy’s cheeks, squeezing and groping him for himself. Danny spread Roy open, the man gasping beneath him. The plug looked so pretty inside of him, Danny thought. He pressed on the end of it just to play, the force making Roy moan.

Danny continued with his massage. He made sure to be thorough when rubbing under Roy’s butt, working his way to his thighs and calfs. He then massaged Roy’s feet, spending a generous amount of time on them attempting to work out the stress and tiredness they held.

“I need you to flip over,” Danny instructed. He poured more oil onto his hands as Roy moved. Danny smirked at him. “Are you enjoying this?” He asked, hands splaying over Roy’s chest. Roy choked. Biting into his lip, Roy nodded his head. A snicker came from the younger man. With a devious idea in mind, he directed his attention to Roy’s nipples. A soft touch brushed them as Danny ran his thumbs over the hardened nubs. He pinched them next, tugging them slightly.

Roy groaned. “Shit, Dan.” His chest jutted into Danny’s touch when he started rolling his nipples between his fingers. Danny leaned down to kiss Roy’s neck as he toyed with him. Roy’s hand flew to Danny’s hair, his other hand of course landing on Danny’s ass. Danny ground down against him, Roy bucking up wildly to meet him. “Don’t stop,” Roy whined breathlessly when suddenly all contact ceased.

“But don’t you want me to finish your massage?” Danny acted as if he didn’t know the answer to that.

Roy pulled him back down into a kiss, his fingers raking through Danny’s hair. He wrapped his legs around Danny’s waist, pressing his body closer to his. Roy squirmed around beneath him, moaning against his lips. He wanted Danny badly. The hunger he felt for him becoming unreasonable. Danny sucked on Roy’s bottom lip before breaking away. He kissed from Roy’s chest to his belly button, suckling kisses around the area.

Sitting up, Danny grabbed the lube. He stroked the liquid into Roy’s cock then his own. Roy gasped when Danny pressed their dicks together. Wrapping his hand around the both of them, Danny began jerking himself and Roy off at the same time. Roy groaned. His head falling back while he pawed at Danny. Having the plug inside of him heightened his sensitivity. Danny was driving him crazy, and he damn well knew it.

Roy bucked up into Danny’s fist, forcing his dick to rub against the youngers. Taking the hint, Danny caught on to Roy’s rhythm. Their cocks glided against each other as Danny continued to stroke them. “Oh my God,” Danny huffed out between breaths, grinding down harder onto Roy’s crotch. Roy’s hands moved to Danny’s ass, guiding him to keep doing what he was doing. In an attempt to get Roy riled up, Danny got himself going as well. He caught Roy’s lips in a searing kiss. Roy’s lungs burned with the intensity of it.

“Danny,” Roy’s voice was pleading, but Danny didn’t hear what Roy was begging for as he reconnected their lips. Roy was melting beneath him. He needed Danny now before he was nothing but a puddle at his feet. “Fuck me,” the older man whined into Danny’s mouth.

With a final smack of their lips, Danny peeled himself away from Roy. “I thought you’d never ask,” the younger teased. Danny held Roy’s legs together at the knees, helping his lover hold them up as it gave him better access to the plug. Danny slowly started pulling the toy out of Roy, careful not to hurt or shock him by moving too fast. Roy grunted as the larger part slipped out. The rest of the toy barely phasing him.

Danny admired how the plug stretched his lover. He looked beautiful, Danny’s heart skipping a beat at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to taste him. With his hands still holding Roy’s legs up by the thighs this time, Danny lapped at Roy’s asshole. It was a shock to Roy’s senses as he was preparing himself for something completely different, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Danny bit into Roy’s asscheek out of appreciative for how amazing he tasted, and how stunning he looked.

“You ready?” Danny asked, his hand running over the teeth marks left in Roy’s skin.

Roy nodded his head, slightly out of breath already. “I’m ready.” Danny smiled, pecking Roy on the lips before positioning himself next to him. Danny guided Roy to lay on his side. With a new coating of lube on each of them Danny lined himself up with Roy’s entrance. He smacked his dick against Roy’s hole just to make him whine before pushing inside of him. Danny slipped in easily thanks to the stretching done beforehand.

“You’re comfortable?” Danny wanted to know before moving.

“Yes, Danny.” He could tell Roy was getting frustrated, but that’s exactly how he liked him. Danny started thrusting slowly, allowing Roy to adjust to the feeling. Finally, Roy thought as his head fell back against Danny’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, reveling in the languid pace. Small, breathy noises left his lips as Danny swiveled his hips. Roy’s mouth dropped open. He reached back for Danny, grabbing at his body blindly. His nails scraped across pale skin, Danny hissed as one claw mark on his thigh broke skin.

“You’re a little slut aren’t you?” Danny’s breath tickled Roy’s ear before he kissed behind it. He smirked against the skin as his lips trailed down his neck, stopping at Roy’s pulse point to lavish it with attention. A loud moan broke from the bottom of Roy’s lungs when Danny paired a deep, hard thrust with his tongue rolling over the sensitive nerves of his neck.

“Kiss me,” Roy requested as Danny started fucking into him faster and deeper than before. Roy turned his head, allowing Danny to meet his lips for a kiss. Tongues were immediately plunged inside of each other’s mouths along with a string of moaning. Danny’s fingers pressed into Roy’s belly roughly as he held his bouncing body in place. His other hand caressed Roy’s side, deciding to stop at his nipple to play with it. Roy squeaked when Danny tugged at the nub. Danny nibbled on his love’s bottom lip while teasing the sensitive peak of his chest.

Roy groaned, he reached around to wrap his arm around Danny’s neck; Taking a fistful of Danny’s hair to hold on to. Sweat dripped down Danny’s forehead. He was completely focused on his thrusting, and giving Roy the most pleasure possible. Fucking Roy was an honor the way Danny saw it. He always wanted to make sure he made Roy feel like the blessing he was. When Roy broke their kiss Danny redirected his lips to Roy’s back, peppering kisses all over the heated skin. He nuzzled his nose against him. His lover smelled amazing. The honey scent from the massage oil radiated off of Roy’s body, mixing in with the cinnamon vanilla candle. It was making Danny’s head fuzzy. All of his sense were lit up and driving him mad.

“Fuck,” Danny gritted, pulling out of Roy without warning. Roy was caught off guard by the sudden stop.

“What’re you doing?” Roy complained. He was getting fucked so well, he couldn’t believe Danny had the nerve to stop.

Danny crashed his lips against Roy’s. He ignored the man’s complaints, knowing he wouldn’t be hearing them in a few moments. He crawled over Roy, making him lay flat on his back. Danny squirted more lube on his cock before pushing back inside of the gorgeous man beneath him. Hooking the back of Roy’s knees with his arms, he brought the man’s legs right above his head. Roy choked, his eyes half rolling back. The new position allowed Danny to hit as deeply as possible.

He started thrusting into Roy. Hard and deep, paced out enough not to overwhelm him. Danny rekindled their kiss. He directed every ounce of passion in his body into it. Roy whimpered. His hands resting on Danny’s neck and in his hair. The pace gradually quickened, Danny’s hips made music slamming against Roy’s. His nails gently scraped down Danny’s arms, stopping to grip them as things between them grew more intense.

Danny knew when he hit Roy’s prostate. Just like his laugh, when he genuinely felt it his voice heightened in pitch; Danny’s favorite sound. Roy had always been embarrassed by it, especially in bed. “God, I love when you moan like that,” Danny growled against his lips. Danny kissed his way across Roy’s jaw to his neck. Roy’s nails dug into Danny’s arms, his back arching slightly off of the bed. Danny cared for the skin; Showering it in soothing licks and kisses.

Roy panted. His hands didn’t know what to do with themselves as they frantically roamed and groped Danny’s body. The symphony of sensations he was feeling created a whirlwind inside of him, his body trembling. Roy slapped Danny’s ass, hard. He squeezed the stinging cheek, jiggling it. Danny cried out, surprised by the sharp hit. “Spank me again, Daddy,” Danny whined, ending the sentence with a hard thrust. Roy groaned. Danny always had to one up him in bed, and Roy fucking loved it. He crashed both hands against Danny’s asscheeks this time, squeezing them again to heighten the sting of it. Danny yelped. If there was one thing that could drive Danny out of his mind it was Roy spanking him. It never felt as right, or as satisfying with anyone else. Roy knew how to make it feel like the sexiest and safest thing in the world.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Danny mumbled, moving to press his lips against Roy’s again. Roy’s fingers slipped between Danny’s cheeks, gently massaging his pulsing hole. Danny moaned loudly, the sound muffled by their kiss. He thrusted quicker, rougher. All about that one upping thing he always had to do. Fuck stars, Danny wanted Roy to see the whole galaxy. Using the tips of his toes, Danny propped himself up for leverage. He rolled Roy slightly, the older man’s hips off of the bed while he leaned on his back. Danny started slamming down into him. Each thrust was met with a wild yelp. That beautiful, high pitched sound never ending.

All Danny wanted to do was make Roy feel amazing. The way the man squirmed beneath him, the rabid pawing at his body, and of course the sounds tumbling from his lips gave Danny the confidence that he was doing just that. Roy had never been fucked so intensely before. His eyes watered as he lost control of himself. He let himself be; be as loud as he could be, as desperate as he felt, and as vulnerable as he ever had been. If it wasn’t with Danny he knew he wouldn’t let himself go like this.

“I love you,” Roy groaned. It wasn’t uncommon for those emotions to slip when they were together like this. Their feelings weren’t a secret, but they weren’t something they acknowledged much. It was an unspoken fact that Roy and Danny were in love with each other. Until they were ready to settle down together, it was easier not to talk about it.

“I love you, too,” unless they were in bed, of course. Roy pulled Danny down for a kiss. He sucked on Danny’s bottom lip, biting into the plumpness. Danny slammed down on Roy harder than before.

“Oh my god.” The man’s arms fell to either side of himself, limp. Danny continued to hammer away at him. His dark eyes growing glassy, his thighs trembling in Danny’s arms.

“You okay?” Danny slowed down a bit.

“I’m fucking close, Dan,” Roy whined. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.” A new hunger for Roy grew in the pit of Danny’s stomach.

“How close are you?”

“I’m gonna cum,” Roy buried his face in Danny’s shoulder, biting him to contain himself.

Danny had a brilliant plan in mind. One he knew Roy would appreciate. “Hold on honey,” Danny kissed his temple before letting Roy’s legs go. He broke the position, sitting on his knees as he pulled out of Roy. Roy’s eyes snapped open. He grunted, thrashing around like a child having a temper tantrum. “And you call me a brat,” Danny teased.

“C’mon! I was gonna cum; I’m soaked!” Roy’s chest was glossy with drops of his own precum, dripping down his body as he sat up. Danny rolled his eyes. If only Roy knew what was in store for him. He got off of the bed, standing at the edge of it. He grabbed Roy’s legs and pulled the man towards him.

“Lube,” Danny said. Roy quickly grabbed for it to hand to his lover. He slathered a new coat on. Better safe than sorry.

Danny pushed back inside of Roy, starting the pace right where he left off. Roy’s head fell back, his legs were hovering in the air as he grabbed onto Danny’s sides. “Fuck me,” Roy breathed on the brink of his orgasm. Danny dipped down to suck Roy’s hard, leaking cock as he continued to fuck into him. The man’s mouth dropped wide open. He lifted his head, needing to see how beautiful Danny looked between his thighs. Roy’s cheeks turned a bright red. The only sound he was capable of was heavy panting, and a strangled noise that sounded something like Danny’s name.

Roy came inside of Danny’s mouth without warning. His whole body racked with tremors. Roy’s asshole pulsed around Danny’s cock as Danny swallowed every bit of appreciation Roy gave him. “You’re perfect,” Danny growled as he kissed at Roy’s pelvis. He kissed up his abs, to his chest, then his lips. Danny pecked him sweetly. “I love you,” he nuzzled their noses together.

Roy chuckled. “That stuff ends when we cum, remember?” He teased his lover.

“I didn’t cum yet,” Danny pressed his lips to Roy’s again.

“I love you too, then,” Roy smiled. He kissed Danny deeply. “Go ahead.” He said after a few minutes of just kissing him. Danny had climbed back onto the bed. Still inside of, and on top of Roy.

“You sure you can handle that?” Danny questioned, making sure Roy didn’t push himself too much.

“I can,” he reassured. Danny started moving slowly inside of Roy. His body had already started twitching. They reconnected their lips, Roy fanned his fingers out in Danny’s long hair. “Cum inside of me,” Roy whispered in Danny’s ear, licking the shell of it. Danny’s eyes rolled back. A guttural moan sounded  from the pit of Danny’s stomach as he came. He panted against Roy’s chest, his legs shaking violently. Roy rubbed Danny’s back through it. “You’re beautiful.”

Danny laid on top of Roy; growing soft inside of him, and wrapped up in his arms. Roy hated the feeling of Danny pulling out. It was a loss he was never ready to feel. “Don’t,” he stopped Danny from moving. “Just lay.” Danny nuzzled his face into the crook of Roy’s neck. They had long forgotten about the webcam capturing all of this.

“Merry Christmas, Roy,” he mumbled tiredly.

Roy’s fingers traced up and down Danny’s spine. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

[taryandbrarian]

The Crash of the Byzantium

The Weeping Angels of Blink were amazing. The two episodes, “Time of Angels” and “Flesh and Stone” did not help the Weeping Angels become more interesting or scary, and in fact ignored some of the basic things we learned about them from Blink. Brarian filed the original unreliable reports under translation errors. This is Tary’s thoughtful edits to the story.

The Crash of the Byzantium

A man spins dazedly in a green field on a sunny day. Birds chirp in the clear blue sky. There is a lipstick smear on his mouth. He is approached by two armed guards and an older man in evening clothes. “It’s a beautiful day,” the young man says.  The man in evening clothes wipes the lipstick off with a handkerchief, revealing the dazed guard is actually standing in the metallic corridor of a spaceship. He states grimly, "Hallucinogenic lipstick. She's here."

Elsewhere in the ship, a woman in a low-cut black evening dress and red high heels blasts through a steel door with a firearm; behind it, is a room with a black box suspended in the center. She changes the gun's settings, and uses it as a torch, burning a message onto the box's face.

Twelve thousand years if the future, the Doctor and Amy Pond explore the Delirium Archive, the final resting place of the Headless Monks. Amy is bored. The Doctor had promised to take her to a planet next, and the museum is on an asteroid. She wonders why they are at a museum while the Doctor announces that most of the displays are "wrong" until coming to one that he says is "one of mine". Amy deduces that this is how he keeps score.

Something in the next display catches the Doctor’s attention. It is an antique box with symbols burned into the top. “It's from one of the old starliners,” the Doctor tells Amy. “A Home Box.” “What's a Home Box?” “Like a black box on a plane, except it homes. Anything happens to the ship, the Home Box flies home, with all the flight data.” “So?” “The writing, the graffiti - Old High Gallifreyan. The lost language of the Time Lords. There were days, there were many days, these words could burn stars and raise up empires, and topple Gods.” Amy leans in, “What does it say?” The Doctor says glumly, “Hello, Sweetie.”

Moments later, alarm bells are screaming and guards are chasing the time travelers. Amy follows the Doctor as he runs to the TARDIS with the home box tucked under his arm

The Doctor connects the home box to the TARDIS console, and explains that someone is trying to get his attention. Getting a visual, he sees the woman in the red heels smiling and winking at the camera. He recognizes her as River Song. Changing the footage, River is now cornered in front of an airlock by the man in evening clothes and two guards. “The party's over, Doctor Song, yet still you're on board.” River turned to face him. “Sorry, Alistair. I needed to see what was in your vault. Do you all know what's down there? Any of you? Because I'll tell you something. This ship won't reach its destination.” Allistair tells the guards, “Wait till she runs. Don't make it look like an execution.” River Song looks at her watch and then  rattles off "7775/349x10,012/acorn" — temporal coordinates. In the TARDIS, Amy and the Doctor share a look. Over the monitor, they hear, “Oh, and I could do with an air corridor.”

The Doctor sets the TARDIS controls for River's location. Meanwhile, River tells the men they'd better find something to hold on to. They grab for handholds as alarms sound, and the airlock blows open. A calm River floats out into space just as the TARDIS materializes. The Doctor opens the TARDIS doors and holds out a hand to her. She flies inside, knocking the Doctor to the floor. Surprised to see her again, the Doctor greets her. But the Byzantium's getting away; "Follow that ship!" she commands.

As the TARDIS chases after the ship, River bicker of the proper way to fly the sentient machine. When they land, River chastises the Doctor for forgetting to do environmental checks. The Doctor announces, “We're on Alfava Metraxis, the seventh planet of the Dundra System. Oxygen-rich atmosphere, toxins in the soft band, 11-hour day, and...” he puts his head out the door again for show, “…chances of rain later.” River sneers, "He thinks he's so hot when he does that." “How come you can fly the TARDIS?” Amy asks. “Oh, I had lessons from the very best.” The Doctor looks smug until River adds, “It's a shame you were busy that day.” She picks up the red heels she had hung on a bit of TARDIS equipment. “Right then, why did they land here?” she muses as she heads for door. “They didn't land,” the Doctor says. “Sorry?” “You should've checked the Home Box – the Byzantium crashed.” River Song exits the TARDIS. Amy demands an explanation about River Song from the Doctor. His answers are vague and unsatisfying.

The Doctor and Amy exit the TARDIS to see the smoldering wreckage of the Byzantium atop a stony plateau. On Amy's request, the Doctor introduces her to Professor River Song. “Ahhh, I'm going to be a Professor some day, am I? How exciting!” She chuckles as the Doctor winces at this slip of the tongue. “Spoilers!” she tuts, then turns her attention back to typing on a handheld device.

The Doctor is annoyed he just gave away foreknowledge. River is speaking into the device. “You lot in orbit yet? Yeah, I saw it land. I'm at the crash site. Try and home in on my signal.” She holds device high in the air, then calls over her shoulder, “Doctor, can you sonic me? I need to boost the signal so we can use it as a beacon.”

The Doctor obliges, and Amy teases him. As they wait, River Song pulls out her diary, and asks the Doctor where she's landed in his timeline. Amy is intrigued, but the Doctor orders her to keep away from it.  Before River can read off any past adventures, four men in combat uniform teleport in and approach them. Their leader, Father Octavian, is rather cross. “You promised me an army, Doctor Song.” “No. I promised you the equivalent of an army. This is the Doctor.” The Doctor gives lighthearted salute. The man in combat uniform shakes the Doctor's hand as he introduces himself, “Father Octavian, sir. Bishop, second class. 20 clerics at my command. The troops are already in the drop ship and landing shortly. Doctor Song was helping us with a covert investigation. Has Doctor Song explained what we're dealing with?” River asked, “Doctor, what do you know of the Weeping Angels?”

By nightfall, the Doctor is fed up with Amy's persistent questions about his relationship with River and with her disobedience of his order to wait in the TARDIS. River, now wearing combat fatigues, calls them to a drop-ship to show them footage of the Weeping Angel they're chasing. It is a black-and-white film, a four-second clip on a loop. “It's just a statue,” says Amy. “It's a statue when you see it,” River corrects her. “Where did it come from?” the Doctor asks. “Oh, pulled from the ruins of Razbahan, end of last century. It's been in private hands ever since, dormant all that time.” “There's a difference between dormant and patient,” the Doctor murmurs. “What's that mean, it's a statue when you see it?” Amy wants to know. “The Weeping Angels can only move if they're unseen. So legend has it.” The Doctor corrects River, “No, it's not legend, it's a quantum lock. In the sight of any living creature, the Angels literally become stone. They sit, absorbing energy. The ultimate defense mechanism.” Amy is incredulous, “What, being a stone?” “Being a stone...until you turn your back.”

The Doctor leads Octavian and River out of the drop ship, but Amy stays behind, looking at the video of the angel. The Doctor explains that the crashed ship is probably filled with radiation and sparking electrical equipment, deadly to almost any living thing. “Deadly to an Angel?” the Bishop asks. “Dinner to an Angel,” the Doctor says. “The longer we leave it, the stronger it will grow. Who built that temple? Are they still around?” River answers, “The Aplans. The indigenous life-form. They died out 400 years ago.” “Two hundred years later, the planet was terraformed. Currently there are six billion human colonists,” Octavian tells them. “You lot, you're everywhere! Like rabbits! I'll never get done saving you.” River offers the Doctor a book about the Angels; he reads the whole book in seconds. He is perplexed; something is missing, but he doesn't know what.

While the others make plans, Amy is left with nothing to do. Looking back at the tape, she realizes the Weeping Angel has changed its position slightly. When she asks River if she has more than one clip of the Angel, River says no; it's just the one. When Amy looks back, the Angel has moved again; it now faces the camera with its arms spread out. The door behind her shuts without her noticing. Amy tries to turn off the television, but it quickly switches back on. She then tries and fails to unplug it. When she looks back up, though, the Angel's face has filled the screen. She tries to leave, but the door won't budge. She looks back again to find the Angel is now baring its fangs at her.

Outside, River wonders how early the Doctor is in his time stream. When he replies it is fairly early, she is amused because he doesn't know who she is yet. The Doctor wonders how she knows who he is as he doesn't always look the same. River says that she has all his faces in her diary, but he doesn't show up in order; River thinks she needs a spotter's guide. The Doctor then realizes what the book of angels is missing: pictures. Why would there be no visual on what to look out for? River says there was a mention about images in the book. The Doctor returns to the sentence and reads it aloud: "Whatever takes the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel." He ponders its meaning.

Back in the dropship, Amy looks away again. This time, when she looks back, the Angel has projected itself into the drop-ship as a hologram. Amy shouts for the Doctor. He runs to the door and tries to opening it with the sonic screwdriver, but fails. As River Song and the Doctor desperately try to rescue Amy from the locked room, the image of the Weeping Angel inches closer. “Doctor! What's it gonna do to me?” Amy asks. The Doctor shouts back, “Just keep looking at it. Don't stop looking!” “Just tell me.” The Doctor runs to find the madman’s book of notes. Not hearing a reply, Amy repeats, “Just tell me. Tell me!” The Doctor answers, “The Angels live off of potential energy. They send you back in time to a boring place, forcing you to live the least influential life possible.” Suddenly, Amy gets an idea. “What did you say?” “They make you live to death. Don’t let it touch you!” the Doctor shouts through the door. “No, earlier. What did you say about images?” River Song answers, “Whatever holds the image of an angel is an angel.” Amy holds the remote towards the TV screen. “OK... Hold this. One, two, three, four... “ She hits the pause button when the image shows static. The image of the Angel freezes in a hazy static shape. A moment later, the image disappears and the screen turns off. The door opens and the Doctor and River come in. Amy speaks breathlessly, “I froze it! There was a sort of blip on the tape and I froze it on the blip. It wasn't the image of an angel any more. That was good, yeah? It was, wasn't it? That was pretty good.” River Song exclaimed, “That was amazing!” “River, hug Amy,” the Doctor instructs. “Why?” she asks. “Cos I'm busy.” “I'm fine,” Amy insists. River Song gives Amy a hug. “You're brilliant!” “Thanks. Yeah. I kind of creams it, didn't I?” she says, directing most of her words to the Doctor’s turned back. “So it was here?” says River. “That was the Angel?”

The Doctor explains that it was a projection of the Angel they're after; it was scoping out its foes. An explosion sounds outside, and Octavian enters to tell them the Clerics have blasted into the structure. “Now, it starts,” says the Doctor to his companions. He wishes he had left when he had the chance.

The group climbs down into the temple, finding a gravity well inside. The Doctor says it is the perfect hiding place for the Angel. He kicks a gravity globe high into the air. With the space lit, the interior is revealed: walls lined with hundreds of disintegrating stone statues. Finding the Angel is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. The Clerics wonder how they are going to neutralize the Angel if they ever do find it. The best strategy the Doctor can think of is to "Find it, and hope." The Doctor and Amy rush off to explore, but Father Octavian holds River back. He snarls, “He doesn't know yet, does he? Who and what you are.” River responds, “It's too early in his time stream.” “Well, make sure he doesn't work it out, or he's not gonna help us.” “I won't let you down. Believe you me, I have no intention of going back to prison.” She yanks her arm out of Octavian’s grasp. As she leaves, Octavian sends Clerics Christian and Angelo to investigate the one exit visible from the chamber.

The Doctor shines his torch in every direction. Amy follows at a slower pace. She stops and looks up at the many levels above them and all the statues lining the way. River comes up beside her. “You all right?” River asks. “Yeah, I'm fine,” says Amy. “Just a little cautious around stone statues, you know.” River chuckles. Amy folds her arms. “So, I heard you call this a Maze of the Dead. What's a Maze of the Dead?” “Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds. It's just a labyrinth with dead people buried in the walls. OK, that was fairly bad.” She changes the subject, “Right, give me your arm.” Amy obliges. River holds up a syringe. “This won't hurt a bit,” she says assuringly. “Ow!” said Amy when she receives the shot. “There, you see. I lied. It's a viro-stabilizer. Stabilizes your metabolism against radiation, drive burn, anything. You're going to need it when we get up to that ship.”

Amy asks River about her relationship with the Doctor. River is evasive and Amy continues to believe they are married. The Doctor hears them talking about him, but denies that he was listening in. River points out that he's holding a device upside-down. Amy nudges River, “You're so his wife.” “Oh, Amy, Amy, Amy! This is the Doctor we're talking about. Do you really think it could be anything that simple?” Amy grins. “Yep.” “You're good. I'm not saying you're right... but you are very good.”

Elsewhere, Christian and Angelo are complaining about the mission, even preferring to go back to hunting lava snakes. Christian decides to investigate another passage, but soon finds his torchlight flickering. He turns to call for Angelo to come to him, but the Weeping Angel kills him. Not in the usual way of zapping him back in time. Rather, this Angel deftly snaps Christian’s neck. Oddly, moments later Angelo receives a transmission from the now-deceased Christian, “Come and see this.” “What is it?” Angelo speaks into the radio. “Just come and see it,” is the response. “It's not a school trip. Just tell me.” “No, really, come and see.” When Angelo finally does enter the passage, he also finds his torchlight flickering.

The Doctor, Amy and River explore the maze. He remembers the Aplans who built the crypt, saying he had dinner with the chief architect. According to him, the species had two heads. He changes the subject, asking River about the last line in the book, it seems a rather ominous. "Is it the eye of the audience or the hand of the artist that defines? If we built a sandpile pebble by pebble, when would we know our task was complete?" They hear gunfire and rush to the main chamber. Cleric Bob has fired at a statue, thinking it looked at him. Octavian berates him, “We know what the Angel looks like. Is that the Angel?” “No, sir,” the young cleric mumbled. “No, sir, it is not!” Octavian says harshly. “According to the Doctor, we are facing an enemy of unknowable power and infinite evil. So it would be good, it would be very good, if we could all remain calm in the presence of fussy decor.” The Doctor asks the cleric’s name. It is Bob. “Ah, that's a great name. I love Bob.” Octavian says, “It's a Sacred Name. We all have Sacred Names, they're given to us in the service of the Church.” “Sacred Bob. More like Scared Bob now, eh?” the Doctor jokes. He grows more serious, “Good. Scared keeps you fast. Anyone in this room who isn't scared is a moron. Carry on.”

Octavian orders Bob to guard the entrance with Christian and Angelo, while he and the four other Clerics join the Doctor's exploration.

River tells the Doctor that something is wrong, but she doesn't know what. The Doctor has the same feeling. However, he brushes it aside and continues to talk about the two-headed Aplans. “Then they started having laws against self-marrying and what was that about? But that's the church for you. Erm, no offence, Bishop.”  “Quite a lot taken, if that's all right, Doctor,” the Bishop replies. They are now in a narrow passage lined with statues. Amy pipes up, “Church had a point, if you think about it. The divorces must have been messy.” The Doctor and River suddenly have a terrifying epiphany. As they explain, the Aplans had two heads... So why don't the statues?

Gathering everyone behind him, the Doctor has them turn off their torchlights. When they turn back on after a second, all of the statues have turned to face them; every single statue is an Weeping Angel!

Elsewhere, Cleric Angelo hears Cleric Bob’s voice over his radio. “Where are you?” Bob asks. Christian can not respond, of course, he is dead. Angelo gapes at the body of Christian slumped against the stone figure’s feet. He hears Bob’s voice over the radio and responds. “Bob, come and see this.” “Angelo?” Bob answers. “Come and see what I've found.” “Are you with Christian? The Bishop said you'd be five minutes.” “I'm here, Bob. Through the archway.”

Bob sees the flickering light. Angelo is waving his torch to catch his attention. Suddenly, Bob hears a shout. He comes running through the archway. There, he sees a Weeping Angel with its hands around Angelo’s neck. Angelo says in a strangled voice, “Just keep looking at it. If I close my eyes, if I even blink, it will kill me.” “What happened to Christian?” Bob asks nervously. “Snapped his neck,” Angelo answers. Bob frowns,  but continues to stare. “That's not how the Angels kill people, they send your whole body back in time and space. Unless they needed his body for something.” Christian’s voice comes over the radio, “My voice. The angels needed my vocal chords to speak to you, to lure you …” “That’s it! I’m turning this radio off,” Bob says. “Just, please… help me out of this! Break its fingers or something.” Bob fumbles through his pockets. “There’s a hammer and chisel in my side pocket, use those,” Angelo instructs. Bob finds them. Under anything less than a life or death circumstance, it would have been an awkward moment. Bob begins to hammer at the stone hand. “Careful! You slip, that chisel goes right through my neck.” Bob slows,  the stone was chipping rather than cracking. “Why do you even have a chisel?” “Oh, you know… caves… Christian and I thought maybe we’d find some fossils, maybe a geode.” Bob wonders,  “Why didn’t they sent you back in time? They can do it with a simple touch, why take the time to kill?” Angelo pauses,  then shudders,  “Oh, god…” “What? What is it?” “They… they feed off potential. They send you back in time to a boring place so you live a dull and unimportant life while they feed on your wasted potential.” “That was all in the briefing. Are you crying? Why are you crying?” Bob asks, his voice shaking. “They didn’t send me back in time. They didn’t send me anywhere… I … I have no potential to waste.”

River Song, Amy, and Bishop Octavian try to wrap their heads around what the Doctor had just said. All the stone statues were Weeping Angels. How was this possible. “There was only one Angel on the ship. Just the one, I swear,” River Song protests. “Could they have been here already?” Amy asks. “The Aplans, how did they die out?” the Doctor asks. River Song answers,  “Nobody knows.” “We know,” the Doctor said quietly. Octavian spoke up, “They don't look like Angels.” “And they're not fast,” Amy points out. “You said they were fast. They should have had us by now.” The Doctor replies,  “They are stone in the sight of another living being. They can’t move, we’re looking at them.” “They could sneak up from behind,” River Song quickly turns around and flashes her torch light. “Did you not hear me? Any living being. That includes each other. As long as the lights stay on, they’ll keep each other in check and we’ll be fine.”

Christian’s torchlight had gone out. Angelo’s torchlight was flickering. The shadow cast by the arch made the space very dark. “Your light is flickering,” Bob said. “It’s getting hard to see what I’m doing.” “Yours light is going out, too. Get out of here, Bob.” “Look at them! They're dying. Losing their form. They must have been down here for centuries, starving,” the Doctor explains. Amy understood. “Losing their image.” “And their image is their power. Power. Power!” “Doctor?” Amy is confused by his excitement. “Don't you see? All that radiation spilling out, the drive burn. The crash wasn't an accident - it was a rescue mission, for the Angels. This isn’t some mausoleum, this is a nest! We're in the middle of a horde and it's waking up.” River Song turns to Bishop Octavian. “We need to get out of here fast.”

Octavian radios Bob to warn him. Bob says he's on his way and that the others are dead. The Doctor is surprised; Angels normally displace their victims in time, unless they need bodies for something. Bob explains that the Angel killed him as well. The Angel reanimated a copy of his consciousness to speak to them; when Bob said that "he" is on his way, he really meant the Angel.

The group flees to the Byzantium while the Doctor chats with Bob, confirming he is speaking to the original Angel, who is no longer in the ship. The Doctor meets up with the others, who are standing on a rocky ledge some fifty feet beneath the Byzantium wreckage; they're trapped.

"Sacred Bob" radios the Doctor again. He says there is nowhere for the Doctor to go and the Angels will kill them all. The Angels are also keen to have him know that the real Bob was afraid when he died; the Doctor had assured Bob that his fear would keep him fast, but he died alone and afraid. They are trying to make the Doctor angry, and angering the Doctor is a very bad move.

The Doctor tells Bob that he's sorry for his death, promising what's left of him that the Angels will pay. But they're is trapped with no chance of escape. The Doctor tells Bob that there is something wrong with the trap: a great, big mistake. He asks the group if they trust him. He takes Octavian's sidearm and orders them to jump on his signal. The Doctor warns the Angels, "There's one thing you never put in a trap, if you're smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there is one thing you never, ever put in a trap." Angel Bob asks, “And what would that be, Sir?” "Me!" snarls the Doctor then shoots the gravity globe with Octavian's sidearm, plunging them into total darkness.

The destruction of the gravity globe allows the Doctor, Amy, Dr. River Song, and Father Octavian and his clerics to jump into the localized gravity well of the starship Byzantium and escape the horde of approaching Weeping Angels. They are in a corridor with shiny rounded walls, reminiscent of the air-lock River Song escaped through mere hours before. “The hull is breached and the power's failing,” Octavian says. The lights go out briefly. The arm of an Angel could be seen silhouetted through the opening. A cleric shouts, “Sir! Incoming!” Amy calls, “Doctor! Lights.” The Doctor uses his sonic screwdriver to help River Song as she try to connect the correct cables. The lights come on briefly and they catch a glimpse of an Angel making its way inside. The lights go out again and come on brighter to show four Angels inside the corridor with them. Octavian instructs, “Clerics, keep watching them.” “Better yet, use them,” the Doctor exclaims. “What?” Octavian says. “Move them! Change their position!” The Doctor sighs. “River, you explain, I’ve got to concentrate.” “They got the name Weeping Angels because they were often found covering their eyes. They will turn to stone in the sight of each other.” Octavian gives orders and begins moving one of the stone statues. “Men, put one at the door, and another watching the one at the door. Make each Angel face an Angel.” The Doctor says, “I've isolated the lighting grid. They can't drain the power now.” “Good work, Doctor.” “Yes. good. Good in many ways, good you like it so far...” “So far?” Amy asks. “Well, there's only one way to open this door. I guess I'll need to route all the power in this section through the door control.” Octavian nods. “Good, fine, do it.” “Including the lights. All of them. I'll need to turn out the lights.” “How long for?” Octavian asks. “Fraction of a second, maybe longer. Maybe quite a bit longer.” “Maybe?” “I'm guessing. We're being attacks by statues in a crashed ship, there isn't a manual for this!” Amy reasons, “Doctor, we lost the torches. We'll be in total darkness.” “No other way. Bishop?” Octavian turns to River. After a brief conference in hushed tones, the Bishop agrees to support the Doctor. “Bless you. Bishop,” says the Doctor. Octavian spoke to his clerics. “Combat distance, ten feet. As soon as the lights go down, those angels will be able to change position and attack. You’ll do continuous fire. Full spread over the hostiles. Do not stop firing while the lights are out. The light of the muzzle blasts will be the only thing slowing them down. Shot gun protocol, we don't have bullets to waste.”

The Doctor puts Amy in charge of turning the wheel and opening the door. Amy takes her position. The Doctor calls to Octavian, “Ready!” and places the sonic screwdriver into the circuit. “On my count then,” says the Bishop. “God be with us all. Three... two...one.” The lights went out and Octavian orders the clerics to fire. The clerics open fire on the Angels. The creatures advance. Each flash of light showing the four getting closer and closer.

River and the Doctor try to help Amy with the door. As the round door moves, a crescent shaped opening forms. Dim white light from the next corridor pours into the dark room. Amy and River slip through the partially open door. They take a moment to pause at the secondary flight deck, magnetizing the doors. However, it is clear that this will only slow the Angels down. The Doctor directs everyone into the ship's oxygen factory, a forest contained within the massive starship. Amy gapes, “But trees! On a space ship?” “Oh, more than trees, way better than trees. You're going to love this. Treeborgs...” He opens a section of peat moss to reveal circuitry. “Trees plus technology. Branches become cables, become sensors on the hull. A forest sucking in starlight, breathing out air. It even rains. There's a whole mini-climate. It is an eco-pod running through the heart of the ship. A forest in a bottle, on a space ship, in a maze. Have I impressed you yet, Amy Pond?” Amy is speechless and chuckles in amazement.

Octavian calls out, “Doctor! There's an exit, far end of the ship, into the Primary Flight Deck.” “Good, that's where we need to go.” As Octavian and a few of his clerics return to the forest to plot a safe path, a voice came over the radio. “Doctor? Excuse me. Hello, Doctor? Angel Bob here, sir.” The Doctor sits in the command chair and answers the radio, “Ah, there you are, Angel Bob. How's life? Sorry, bad subject.” “The Angels are wondering what you hope to achieve.” “Achieve? We're not achieving anything. We're just hanging. It's nice in here, consoles, comfy chairs, a forest. How's things with you?” “The Angels are feasting, sir. Soon they will be able to absorb enough power to consume this vessel, and then set out in search of the human colony.” The Doctor leans forward. “Well, we've got comfy chairs, did I mention?” Angel Bob responds, “We have no need of comfy chairs.” The Doctor smirks and says to his companions, “I made him say comfy chairs!” Amy laughs softly. Angel Bob’s voice is heard again, “They took the Aplans too quickly, made too big a show. They were trapped and positioned. The Aplans kept torch-lights burning brightly. The Angels thought they would erode past the point of resurrection. But now, with this ship, they will all be restored. There are hundreds in this Maze of the Dead.” “Get a life, Bob. Oops, sorry again. There's power on this ship, but nowhere near that much.” Angel Bob responds, “With respect, sir, there is more power on this ship than you yet understand.” The Angels shriek with laughter. The Doctor then notices a familiar crack on the wall of the secondary control room. He realizes that it is the same one from Amy's bedroom, just slightly bigger. Amy and River escape into the forest, but the Doctor stays behind to scan the crack. The four angels did their best to advance, each shielding their eyes with one arm and reaching out with the other. The Doctor’s jacket is in the grip of an Angel. The Doctor asks, “Why am I still here? I have loads of potential, you wouldn’t just kill me. Or perhaps I’m too rich for you, so full of twists and turns that I’m practically poison.”

He turns nervously and sees the Angels with their hands up to the crack as if worshiping it. “Good, and not so good. Oh, this isn't even a little bit good. I mean, is that it? Is that the power that brought you here? That's pure time energy, you can't feed on that. That's not power, that's the fire at the end of the universe. I'll tell you something else...” the Doctor swiftly slips out of his jacket. As he runs into the forest, he calls back to them, “Never let me talk!”

In a small clearing in the forest, Amy sits on a rock, over-come with emotions. River goes to her side, “Amy, what's wrong?” “How could it be on the ship?” Amy curls up on a moss-covers rock.  Bishop Octavian says, “Dr. Song, we can't stay here, we've got to keep moving.” River insists, “We wait for the Doctor.” “Our mission is to make this wreckage safe and neutralize the Angels,” Octavian reminds her. “Until that is achieved...” River Song interrupts. “Father Octavian, when the Doctor is in the room, your only mission is to keep him alive long enough to get everyone else home. And trust me. It's not easy. Now, if he's dead back there, I'll never forgive myself, and if he's alive, I'll never forgive him.” She pauses for a moment. “And, Doctor, you're standing right behind me, aren't you?” The Doctor is leaning against a tree. “Oh, yeah.” River turns to face the Doctor. “I hate you!” she says slowly with a small smile. “You don't.” He went to Amy’s side. “Bishop, the Angels are in the forest.” Octavian gives orders, “We need visual contact on every line of approach.” River asks the Doctor, “How did you get past them?” “Found a crack in the wall and told them it was the end of the universe.” “What was it?” Amy asks. “The end of the universe.”

A cleric shouts, “Sir! Angel, incoming!” An Angel appears between two trees.Other clerics report seeing Angels, too. Father Octavian tells his men to keep visual contact. “Amy, sit up,” River says. “What has gotten into you?” The Doctor answers for her, “The crack in the wall, the wall of the space ship, is the same shape as the crack in her wall, the wall of Amelia’s bedroom. Amelia Pond, a little girl that’s afraid of nothing except that crack in the wall…” River Song puts her arm around Amy’s shoulders and holds her hand.

***

Bishop Octavian says, “Doctor, we're too exposed here. We have to move on.” The Doctor straightens. “Have you not been paying attention? There’s no such thing as too exposed when dealing with a horde of Weeping Angels. They’re attacking us from all sides, right?” “Yes.” “So, they’re standing in a big circle. Once they leave the protection of the tree line, they are toast, in full sight of not only you, but every angel who’s attacking from the other direction.” Octavian orders his clerics to back away from the tree line. He turns to the Doctor, “We can’t stay here forever, though.” “Of course not,” says the Doctor. “But for now, Amy can’t move.” “Why can’t I move?” Amy asks. “Because you’re paralyzed with fear and anyway, that's not the plan.” “There's a plan?” River asks. “I don't know yet, I haven't finished talking. Right! Father, you and your Clerics will stay here, look after Amy. If anything happens to her, I'll hold each of you personally responsible, twice. River, you and me, we're going to find the Primary Flight Deck which is...” he licks his finger and held it up to test the air. “… a quarter mile straight ahead. We'll stabilize the wreckage and stop the Angels.” “How?” River stays sitting next to Amy. “I'll do a thing.” “What thing?” “I don't know, it's a thing in progress. Respect the thing. Moving out!”

Octavian approaches the Doctor, “Doctor, I'm coming with you. My Clerics can look after Miss Pond. These are my best men, they'd lay down their lives in her protection.” “I don't need your protection,” the Doctor says.  “The Angels are not going to touch a time-traveler like me or River. Our non-linear life lines are toxic to them.” River Song joins them. “You say that with a lot of confidence. How can you be sure?” “I can’t be sure. It’s a theory, a theory I’m not eager to test on my friends. That’s why I’m leaving Amy with protection.” “Am I not your friend?” River Song asks coyly. The Doctor grimaces. “Aw, don’t give me that! You know this isn’t our last adventure. We can take care of each other. I need Father Octavian to stay with Amy.” Octavian interjects, “I don't care. Where Dr. Song goes, I go.” “What?” The Doctor glances at River and then back at Octavian. “You two engaged or something?” Octavian looks at River before answering. “Yes, in a manner of speaking.” The Bishop shouts, “Marco, you're in charge till I get back.” “Doctor... Please, can't I come with you?” Amy asks. “You'd slow us down, Miss Pond,” Octavian responds. “I don't want to sound selfish, but you'd really speed me up.”  The Doctor sat next to Amy. “You'll be safer here. We can't protect you on the move. I'll be back for you soon as I can. I promise.” “You always say that,” Amy replies. “I always come back,” says the Doctor. “Now, rest your eyes for a bit, Amy. You have a lot of not blinking ahead of you.” He stands. “Good luck everyone. Behave. Keep watching the forest. Stop those Angels advancing. Amy, later!” He gives her a little pat on the head.  “River, going to need your computer.” Then the Doctor leaves.

“Yeah. Later,” Amy fidgets nervously with her hands, her eyes still closed. She feels a masculine pair of hands grip hers. She opens her eyes. The Doctor is there, but he is wearing a jacket. “Amy, you need to start trusting me, it's never been more important.” “But you don't always tell me the truth.” “If I always told you the truth, I wouldn't need you to trust me.” “Doctor, the crack in my wall, how can it be here? You said it was the end of the universe. How can it be that?” “I don't know yet, but I'm working it out. Now, listen. Remember what I told you when you were seven.” “What did you tell me?” The Doctor presses his forehead against hers.  “No, no... That's not the point. You have to remember.” He gave her a soft kiss on her brow. Amy closes her eyes as he kisses her, trying to remember. “You said so many things,” she murmurs. “Remember what?” She opens her eyes and the Doctor is gone.

Bishop Octavian was leading River Song and the Doctor down a wide and well-lit path through the forest. River and the Doctor talk to each other in vague and cryptic terms. Octavian informs the Doctor that River Song was a recent resident of Stormcage. Before more can be said on the topic, the Doctor’s scanner reveals the date for the explosion that makes a crack in the universe. The date appears on the bottom as 26/06/2010. “Amy's time!” the Doctor exclaims.

Amy is now more bored than scared, as she sits in the clearing. She tries to strike up a conversation. “So, what's happening? Anything happening out there?” Marco answers, “The Angels are still grouping.” Amy sighs,  “Yep, same for me. So, um… you all have names?” “Crispin.” “Phillip.” “Marco.” “Pedro.” The clerics said nothing more. “Okay, then,” says Amy. All was quiet except for the hum of the treeborgs. In the shade of the trees, one of the Angels reaches into a trunk and pulls at the wires. A ripping and zapping sound caught the cleric’s attention and the lights began to flicker. Marco calls out, “Are you getting this too?” Crispin responds,  “The trees? Yeah.” Amy calls out, “What's wrong with the trees?” Phillip said, “Here too, sir. They're ripping the Treeborgs apart.” The third cleric confirms, “And here. They're taking out the lights.” The Angels take advantage of the flickering and once again begin to advance.

The Doctor, River Song, and Bishop Octavian had reaches what the Doctor had predicts would be the Primary Flight Deck. The Doctor was still puzzling over the readings from the handheld as Octavian looks for a way in. River stood guard. “It doesn't open it from here, but it's the Primary Flight Deck. This has got to be a service hatch or something,” Octavian said. “Hurry up and open it,” River snaps. “Time's running out.” “What? What did you say?” asks the Doctor. “Time's running out, is that what you said?” “Yeah. I just meant...” “I know what you meant. Hush! But what if it could? “What if what could?” “Time. What if time could run out?”

In the clearing, the Angels were rapidly advancing, from several directions. Marco orders, “Weapons primed. Combat distance five feet. Wait for it!” The clerics prime their guns. Amy turns her head to see what was happening. “What is it? What's happening, just tell me!” Marco answers, “Keep your position, ma'am.”  Suddenly, a bright light appears through the trees and spread. “Wait!” says Marco, shielding his eyes from the glaring light. “The ship's not on fire, is it?” Crispin turns to look, then answers, “It can't be. The compressors would have taken care of it.” “Keep your eyes on the Angels!” Marco orders. Crispin turns back and is surprised. “Marco, the Angels have gone. Where'd they go?” “What, the Angels?” Amy asks, keeping an eye on the one just a few feet away. Pedro shifts uneasily. “This side's clear too, sir.” “The Angels have gone?” Amy asks. She dares to blink, and the stone statue is no longer in front of her. Marco reads from a handheld. “There's still movement out there, but away from us now. It's like they're running.” “Running from what?” Amy asks. “Phillip, Crispin, need you to get a closer look at that.” The two clerics head towards the light. They disappear behind some trees. Pedro and Marco move to new positions, closer to Amy. “What are you all looking at? What's there?” Amy asks. Marco tries to explain what he sees to Amy. “It's like, I don't know...a curtain of energy, sort of shifting. Makes you feel weird, sick.” “And you think it scares the Angels?” “What could scare those things?” Pedro mumbles. Amy begins to turn, Marco stops her. “What are you doing?” he asks. “We need someone looking at every direction.” “Then spin this circle so I’m the one pointing at the light. I need to see it.” “If you insist,” said Marco. He nods to Pedro. The three rotate positions.  Amy gasps when she sees it. “It's the same shape! It's the crack in my wall. It's following me! How can it be following me?” Amy falls to her knees and Marco is there to support her. His bulky uniform body blocks the intense light. “Are you OK?” he asks. “Yeah. It was the same shape! The same shape as the crack on the wall.” “What? You mean in the secondary flight deck?” Marco asks. “Marco, you want me to get a closer look at that?” asks Pedro. “Go for it. Don't get too close.” “Hang on,” said Amy. “What about the other two? Why not just wait ‘til they're back?” “What other two?” Marco asks. “The ones you sent before.” “I didn't send anyone before.” “You did. I heard you. Crispin and Phillip.” “Crispin and who?” asks Pedro. “Don’t worry about her, Pedro. Go and report back what you find.” “Do you think the Angels got them?” Amy wonders. “Is that what happens when the Angels touch you? You are just forgotten?” Marco tries to soothe her. “No, no. We remember Angelo, and Christian, and Bob…”

Outside the primary flight deck, Octavian helps River Song through the open hatch. The Doctor is still doing calculations in the air and talking to himself. Octavian puts a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “We have to move, now! The Angels could be here any second.” The Doctor jerks his shoulder away. “Never mind the Angels. There's worse here than Angels!” The lights went out briefly. The Doctor finally turns to face Octavian. An Angel has its arm around Octavian’s neck. Octavian says, “I beg to differ, sir.” The Doctor points his sonic screwdriver at the Angel. “Let him go.” “Well, it can't let me go, sir, not while you're looking at it.” “I can't stop looking at it, it'll kill you.” “It will send me into early retirement. I’m fully prepared to let the rest of my years be boring.” “I’m afraid not. Just look at the detail… this one well-fed Angel. It isn’t hungry anymore.” “So it'll just kill me. There's no way out of this. You have to leave me!” “Can't you wriggle out?” “No. it's too tight. You have to leave me, Sir. There's nothing you can do.”

“Something's happening!” Amy insists. “Pedro was here a second ago and now you can't even remember him!” “There never was a Pedro. There's only ever been the two of us here!” “No, there were five of us. Why can't you remember?” “Listen, listen,” said Marco. “I need to get a closer look at that light, whatever it is. Don't worry, I won't get too close.” Amy shook her head. “No, you can't. You mustn't.” “Here, spare communicator.” He presses the radio into Amy’s hand. “I'll stay in touch the whole time.” “You won't. If you go back there what happens to the others will happen to you!” Marco shouts,  “There weren't any others!” “There won't be any YOU if you go back there.” “Two minutes, I promise.” He quickly left. Amy calls out, “Please, just listen to me!” She watches him trot towards the light and disappear behind the trees. Amy was alone in the clearing, and the threat of Angels is still present.

***

Octavian finally convinces the Doctor to leave him behind. The Doctor joins River Song in the Primary Flight Deck. River Song is attempting to fix the ship’s teleporter. The Doctor says she’s wasting her time. The Doctor contacts Amy over the radio. Amy tells him she is alone because the clerics disappeared investigating the crack. The Doctor instructs Amy to begin moving towards the primary control room. Amy protests, “I can't see! The forest has gone dark. The only light is what is coming from that crack.” The Doctor orders, “Turn on the spot.” “Sorry. What?” “Just do it. Turn on the spot.” He waves his screwdriver over the radio. “When the communicator sounds like my screwdriver, you're facing the right way. Follow the sound.” Amy turns in a circle and listens for the whirring sound. She points the radio like a compass. The Doctor speaks with urgency. “You have to start moving now. There's time energy spilling out of that crack and you have to stay ahead of it.” “But the Angels, they're everywhere.” “I'm sorry, I really am, but the Angels can only kill you.” Amy walks into the forest. The light from the crack is getting dimmer as she moves farther away. “What does the Time Energy do?” The Doctor shouts into the radio, “Just keep moving!” Amy’s steps are cautious and slow. She is squinting in the dim light, her head on a constant swivel. “Tell me!”  “If the Time Energy catches up with you, you'll never have been born. It will erase every moment of your existence. You will never have lived at all.” He took a deep breath and try to speak more encouragingly, “Now, I know it’s dark, but keep moving!” River mutters, “It's never going to work.” The Doctor shouts, “What else have you got? River, tell me!”

Amy walks with slow, steps. The path was growth dimmer and dimmer. She bumps her shoulder against something and gave a frightened shriek. She put her hand out, and felt the bark of a tree. She lets out a sigh of relief.

Outside the primary flight deck, there was a loud whooshing and clanging. “What was that?” River asks. “The Angels running from the fire. They came here to feed on the time energy. Now it's going to feed on them.”  He spoke into the radio, “Amy, listen to me. I'm sending a bit of software to your communicator. It's a proximity detector. It'll beep if there's something in your way. You just maneuver till the beeping stops.” Amy continues to walk with halts steps, her hand thrust stiffly before her feeling about hesitantly. The Doctor continues, “Because, Amy, this is important. The forest is full of Angels. You're going to have to walk like you can see.” Amy squeaks, “Well, what do you mean?” “You know what I mean. Stop waving your arm about, walk confidently.” The Doctor pauses and sighs deeply. “Look, just keep moving.” River Song works at a control panel. “That time energy, what's it going to do?” she asks, trying to keep her voice calm. The Doctor rubs his face. “Er, keep eating.” “How do we stop it?” she asks, slightly more tense. “Feed it.” “Feed it what?” “A big complicated space-time event should shut it up for a while.” “Like what, for instance?” The Doctor yells, “Like me, for instance!”

A high-pitched beeping echoes through the flight deck.  The sound was coming through Amy’s communicator. “What’s that?” Amy shouts. The Doctor’s voice came over the radio. “It's a warning. There are Angels ‘round you now.” Amy answers, “The lights are flickerin’. I can see them.” “Yes, and they can see each other. Just move fast. Stay in the open, and move fast.” There were angels on either side of Amy, their stone hands inches from her flesh. She shuffles past them as quick as she can. However, with each flicker of light, the angels reposition themselves.

“They’re moving too fast!” Amy complains. “Amy. listen to me. This is going to be hard but I know…” the Doctor glances at River, “…you can do it. The Angels are scared and running and right now they're not that interested in you. They'll assume you can see them and their instincts will kick in. All you've got to do is walk like you can see the whole time, not just during the flickers. Whatever the lights do, you just keep walking.” The Doctor bangs his fist on the instrument panel. “Faster! Now!”  

Amy did her best to move quickly, listening to the beeping and changing direction. It seems to be working, the flashing lights of the trees show the angels running, paying her no attention. Then she trips over a root and falls, dropping the communicator.  She hurriedly feels about in the dirt and calls out to the Doctor. The proximity indicator beeps louder and louder. As the lights flicker, Amy can see that she had drawn attention to herself.  She decides her best chance was to simply stand, pretending she could see and move forward without the radio. In the next flicker on light, she came face-to-face with an Angel. As it reaches for her, Amy is engulfed in a bright light.

Amy appears on the flight deck of the Byzantium and falls into River Song’s open arms. She starts sobbing, burying her face into River’s neck. “It’s okay. You're on the Flight Deck, the Doctor's here. I teleported you.” River strokes Amy’s hair. She looks up at the Doctor. “See? Told you I could get it working.” The Doctor kept his eyes on the control panel, but he was clearly pleased. “River Song, I could bloody kiss you.” “Ah well, maybe when you're older.” An alarm blares throughout the ship. “What's that?” River asks. “The Angels are draining the last of the ship's power, which means... the shield's going to release!”

The Doctor stood at the ready. The shield to the forest slowly raises and standing behind it was a large gathering of Angels. They look like proper Weeping Angels now, most even have their hands over their eyes. They stand side by side in perfect rows, letting their lack of peripheral vision and their wide wing span protect them from each other’s sight. The Doctor steps forward. He speaks calmly, “Angel Bob, I presume.” All the Angels remains stone statues, but Bob’s voice speaks with a faint echo, “The Time Field is coming. The Angels thought they could absorb it, but it is absorbing them…” “Yeah, and look at you, all running away. What can I do for you?” “The Angels heard you on the coms. If you throw yourself into it, it will close and they will be saved.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Could do, could do that. But why?” “Your friends would also be saved.” “Well, there is that.” River Song steps up to the Doctor. “I've traveled in time. I'm a complicated space-time event, too. Throw me in.” The Doctor scoffs, “Oh, be serious! Compared to me, these Angels are more complicated than you and it would take every one of them to amount to me, so get a grip.” “Doctor, I can't let you do this.” “No, seriously, get a grip.” “You're not going to die here!” “No, I mean it. River, Amy, get a grip.” River Song’s jaw drops as she realizes his plan. “Oh, you genius!” She hurries over to Amy. Angel Bob spoke again, “Sir, the Angels need you to sacrifice yourself now.” The Doctor gave a small smirk. “Thing is, Bob, the Angels are draining all the power from this ship, every last bit of it. And you know what? I think they've forgotten where they're standing. I think they've forgotten the gravity of the situation.”

River grabs a handle and indicates that Amy should do the same. “You hold on tight and don't you let go for anything,” she says in a low voice as the Doctor continues to loudly lecture the Angels. As the gravity fails due to the loss of power, the Doctor casually turns to grip a handle himself. The deck turns to its side, orienting to the planet’s gravity instead of to the floor. The Doctor, Amy, and River grip those handles for dear life. The Angels fall and are engulfed by the crack. There is a burst of light and the crack suddenly snaps shut.

It was dawn when they finally crawled out of the wrecked spaceship and onto the beach. Amy is leaning on a rock, wrapped in a blanket. The Doctor stands next to her with a cleric behind him. “I am bruised everywhere,” Amy groans. “Me too,” says the Doctor. “At least you didn’t have to spend half the time stumbling in the dark, worrying about Angels.” “Technically, neither did you. All of the Angels fell into the time field. They’ve been erased from existence. I kept telling you, what you saw in the caves were just oddly shaped stalagmites.” “Is that why most of the clerics came back? Because the Angels that killed them never existed?” “Yes. Though I suppose some Angels must have avoided the time field. The one that crashed the Byzantium in the first place at least...” He stops musing aloud. “Then why do I remember it at all?” Amy asks. “Those guys on the ship didn't even remember each other.” “You're a time traveler now, Amy. Changes the way you see the universe… forever. Good, isn't it?” “And the crack. Is that gone too?” The Doctor doesn’t answer right away. “Yeah, for now. But the explosion that caused it is… still happening... somewhere out there, somewhere in time.”

The Doctor looks out at the ocean before walking over to River Song. She smiles. “You, me...handcuffs,” she holds up her wrists encased in cuffs. “Must it always end this way?” “What now?” the Doctor whispers flirtatiously. “The prison ship's in orbit. They'll beam me up any second. I might have done enough to earn a pardon this time. We'll see.” “Octavian said you killed a man.” “Yes. I did.” “A good man.” “A very good man. The best man I've ever known.” She says nothing more on the subject. However, before River is teleported away by the clerics, she tells the Doctor that they will meet again soon when the Pandorica opens. The Doctor scoffs dismissively. He says the Pandorica is a fairy-tale. “Aren’t we all?” River Songs says just before leaving in a flurry of teleporter dust.