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Acceptance	By : ScereyahaDreamweaver Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 3928 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel (nor the avengers, nor science boyfrinds), It's fandom, nor theses characters, just this interpretation of their relationship, I make no money from this.

Chapter List
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Life was going well, even despite the fact that small skirmishes with invading forces where again becoming a somewhat regular feature of his life. He would get angry, smash a few mean spirited aliens or Nazi rejects around, break some expensive equipment, enjoy it at the time and feel only mildly guilty about it once he calmed down. After battles he now had the luxury of being led by the hand and given a quiet room of his own to hide himself in, until he turned back into the unassuming doctor, generally having no protests to Anthony keeping him company and watching over him.

It was refreshing to be the hulk often enough, without it causing anything to go disastrously wrong. For the first time in a long time, life was good for him, and for his emotionally repressed alter ego. He was even getting some time to sit around calmly and wrap his head around how he felt about things. Of course, calm was relative, but when he was not in the middle of a fight, his brain was much less foggy feeling, not being so clouded with stress hormones and being more inclined to take what advantage he could of his underlying genius level intellect, when not responding with rage. He was getting the chance to be this aspect of himself, without being too busy smashing things to get a real sense of self-awareness. He liked feeling aware, being let out. He even liked the limited words he had exchanged with Anthony. It was not the conversations they had together in labs, language centre still bathed in adrenalin, but when he calmed down a little, he felt like he could find plenty enough words to express himself. Their conversations were now entirely frank, short and very to the point, but he liked the simple honesty that it seemed to come with. He knew his other half did not really trust him with his friend, of course he also knew this was because the doctor never seemed to remember very much of what happened while he was transformed. As it was, he could tell for himself whether or not he felt it was safe to have Anthony’s company.

If there was one thing he had misgivings about, still, it was Anthony’s newfound insistence that he go to his old room, after battles, and have his own space in which to relax. The mansion had, of course, been outfitted with a room especially for him, so that even if he stayed as the hulk for a while he had a space to call his own that was suited to him, and that would help him care for himself even when he was a small, tired, and potentially depressed, physicist. The doorway was large, many things were automated, and the design of everything was simple and strong. It was his room, as much as any space had ever been; Hulk’s room. Anthony had made it for him. So he did not mind the room, he was just suspicious about Anthony’s insistence to lead him there and then tuck him in and stay with him.

“You might want to take those off before bed. They are kind of wrecked.” Anthony said, indicating what had been pants but now could hardly been told apart from ragged shorts, or even some form of loincloth.

“I really need to get on designing a material to make you some proper clothes out of.” Anthony said, though he had been saying that for years and still had not.

Another suspicious look graced him. Bruce did feel it sounded reasonable enough, the pants were torn almost beyond recognition, and covered in dust, and they did not look like they belonged in the bed with the crisp white sheets. On the other hand, he did not feel quite like he did either. He also felt that Anthony may derive just a little too much twisted amusement from watching him tear out of his clothes, and that had perhaps always been why he had never made him more resilient ones.

“I’m not trying to get in your pants." he said, raising his hands.

“I’m actually trying to get you out of them." he went on, approaching him.

Even as the hulk, he knew Anthony was being smart with him. He held his suspicious, disapproving look and stayed still, letting Anthony undo them where they had not already torn -for whatever that was worth- and slip them off, before backing up and sitting on the bed. He tucked himself in and shot his friend a look that asked him whether he was satisfied.

Anthony stood there with his armour opened at the chest for some air circulation, and his visor up. The truth was, he was not satisfied. He approached the bed and leaned over, giving him a kiss that was not really returned.

“You want Banner?" he asked him, looking a bit wide-eyed.

It was an improvement from his usual scared and sad look, which preceded him changing back without asking.

“No, no. You, big guy. You‘re my boyfriend too aren‘t you?”

Bruce was quiet, giving him a hard look. He did not really want to encourage his friend in this.

“Unless you…” Anthony’s tone started confident as ever, but his voice faded as he seemed to pale suddenly.

Anthony felt frozen as doubt suddenly tore away the mildly amused confidence from which he had been speaking. Anxiety filled him as he realized that for all his considering of what he wanted, he had not considered what Bruce, any of his personalities, may or may not want. To feel so suddenly uncertain was alienating and uncomfortable to him. The look on Bruce’s face seemed like one of strained patience to him, and he did not know why. He could not tell what Bruce was thinking or how he felt and was left wondering, suddenly, if it was not just idle annoyance and perhaps something more substantial responsible for the reluctant behaviour. A shaky, anxious feeling whined in his chest alongside the reactor. He wondered if the hulk was only tolerating him for his other persona’s benefit. He was trying to sort out how he would feel if Bruce did not want him in this context, trying to tell himself that it made sense and that he could be okay with that, but he was having a hard time thinking about it clearly around the ache in his chest and throat, and the knowledge that he was still being given that same stern look.

Bruce watched the doubt spill into his features. He understood then, maybe not in the exact words and concise way his other persona normally drew conclusions, but he felt he knew, at least vaguely, why Anthony had seemed to attach to the idea of getting some kind of physical affection from him as the hulk. Anthony wanted to believe that Bruce loved him and wanted him, and that security would be entirely undermined if it were only one aspect of his personality that felt that way. He needed reassurance that a shift in personality would not take the one person he needed in his life away from him. He desperately -realizing it or not- needed to believe that, no matter what, Bruce, in any form, would love him and stay with him. It was heart breaking to see him shift there uncomfortably. It was also a little pathetic. He rolled his eyes and sat up.

Normally, in this state, Bruce only ever expressed ire with humans, but with Anthony that had come to change. Most of the people he had been close to had -in short enough order- come to think of at least one of his aspects as nothing but a hindrance to the other, and it was usually the hulk that they wanted to go without. They were always trying to get rid of him, hurt him, even Banner. Anthony was different. Yes, they had a messy history, and he was still angry about a few things, but Anthony had only ever been trying to help, and did obviously care about him, not just Banner. Anthony was making it very clear that he wanted to be Hulk’s friend too, that he wanted to be with him, thought the world was better with him, rather than without. So maybe he was a fragile little human, but he was not an annoyance. Anthony stood there, small and soft, covered futilely in an almost equally fragile shell, wanting him, needing him, wanting to cause him -Hulk- pleasure; wanting the hulk to love him back, with his heart obviously breaking a little because he doubted if he did. If Bruce was ever capable of feeling that tug at his heartstrings, then he definitely was now.

“I should go.” Anthony said, quietly, looking at the floor and miserable for his doubts.

“Stay.” Bruce told him firmly, seeming to sigh a bit tiredly.

Anthony looked up at him hopefully. Bruce let go of his frustration, and a bit of his trepidation, and took a deep breath. He resolved not to turn back until he was certain Anthony was reassured. He could tell he was enough in control of himself right now to at least entertain his friend’s needs a little. He reached a hand out and gently pushed his friend’s armoured back towards him, until he was standing between his knees in front of the bed. He carefully brushed a finger over his cheek, nudging the helmet back slightly. He traced a few fingers lightly over the reactor in his chest and watched his reaction as he tapped the inside edge of the armour next to it. Anthony’s eyelids lowered predictably. He quietly watched him remove the armour. He had mixed feelings about the protective coating coming off, but the affection Anthony was after would require some skin contact at least. He lifted him carefully onto him, lying back on the bed, and soon felt the lust he had experienced the first time come rushing back. Anthony was giving him that look again, the dangerous one that was exciting and terrifying to him; the one that told him so blatantly what the man wanted that it almost seemed indecent.

The blushing, sheepish look Anthony was getting from behind large green fingers was so reminiscent of his other personality that he could not help but smile. He had for a couple moments, that felt too heartbreakingly long, been left wondering whether or not his attention was even wanted by this aspect of his friend. It seemed likely enough now, though, that his friend was just being as hesitant and potentially overcautious as ever. He had again been lifted to sit against his stomach, this time Bruce being a little more coherent and a little less panic-stricken. He watched him rough over his own hair with one hand, looking at Anthony as if he was not quite sure what to do. Anthony ran his hands over his torso until he seemed to relax, looking deceptively sleepy and fidgeting one hand at his side. He looked to the hand questioningly. It rose to trace large fingers across his chest and then gently down the side of his neck. To Anthony it felt like a firm stroke, to his friend, he thought, it must have been painstakingly careful. The fingers stopped at the neckline to the wired suit he was wearing. The undergarment was meant for use with his armour and he agreed that it was probably best if he removed it himself, so he did.

He watched the movement in Anthony’s muscles as he wiggled out of his clothes, ending up straddled over one large thigh. Bruce watched him roll his hips against that thigh, nails digging into the muscle in front of him, as if he could not help himself. Anthony looked so lithe now, and felt so small in his hands. Bruce only gained about three feet in height when he changed, his muscle mass changing far more. He was just at the biggest possible extreme that would seem to be allowed for a human, only far more muscled than nature would ever encompass. His muscles gained almost a thousand pounds in mass, but they were very dense, so as to not look completely ridiculous. His feet and hands always seemed to change in size more than anything else did though, so that -while he did not seem quite inhumanly large next to Anthony, who was muscled enough and over six feet tall himself- his hands still took up most of his friend’s sides. He rubbed those sides very gently. He had years of practice -at this point- of living alongside people, even as the hulk, and did have a very good sense of his own strength, contrary to what seemed popular belief, or what his own alter-ego would insist. They still had a sheet between them, and that was plenty fine with him for the moment. Though he could not keep his mind away from the idea of what he guessed Anthony intended, he wanted to pace things enough to keep his wits about him and recognized the necessity in going slowly.

Anthony had spent the last month slowly, and not very reluctantly, coming to terms with the fact that he had come to find the idea of sex with this powerful version of his lover very arousing. Every time Bruce had been inside of him, Anthony could not help but think of how much more stretching and pressure there would be, how much more intense it would be, with a mass of powerful muscle undulating between his legs. He had considered very carefully, over the past while, whether or not it was safe. He did not want to cause anything to happen that would give either of them cause for regret, especially Bruce.

He knew that as the hulk he had had a few relationships before, both with human and alien women. The physiology of it was straightforward enough. It was mostly his bones and muscle mass that changed in size, his skin thickened and his blood flow increased and his glands could not really get away with not changing at all, but the change should not be so drastic as to make it dangerous for him, or even uncomfortable if they took their time.

Besides that, after having spent plenty of time around this larger, green version of him, he knew he could be quite reasonable and careful when he wanted to. It was fair enough to say he did not generally have access to the genius level intelligence of his alter ego, but Anthony thought that was really a combination of hormones and the fact that this persona was so much made out of all the feelings Bruce normally kept suppressed. As the hulk he was often too busy feeling and reacting to really be interested in taking time thinking, and it was not just destructive anger, and negative emotions, the way Bruce seemed to believe. It was a complicated mix of those and everything else he did not let himself feel, or felt guilty about wanting or needing; the things he could not accept about himself. The hulk may have been the face of his deepest -and most basic- needs, frustrations and desires, the archetypal shadow, as Jung would describe it, but he was the shadow of a complex and good person. Even the darkest scariest parts of his friend were still based in wants and needs that were justified and only human.

Between all of that, the honest and direct way he had of communicating -and all the vicarious enjoyment he got out of watching the man smash stuff and tear out of restrictive fabric- he found this persona to be just as endearing as the rest of his friend, albeit for different reasons. Bruce needed to see that this aspect of himself was not monstrous, that he was a man and an acceptable part of his self. It was not healthy to be so internally divided and self-critical. Anthony often worried for his mental health, with good reason. He was determined to help him see it, and now he adamantly intended to have his slow careful way with him, this need and want driven part of him that Bruce wished he could keep secret. The only thing in his way now was a thin sheet.

When Anthony reached out and took the edge of the sheet, Bruce gently pulled him forward -so Anthony ended up pulling the sheet higher as he was held against his lower stomach- and sat up a little, bending at his upper back. He shifted upward on the bed carefully so his back was supported in this curve by the wall at the head of his bed. It amused him that Anthony looked mildly annoyed by this. He knew the man was trying to have his way with him, and that he was now strong enough that the idea of Anthony making him cooperate was laughable. Bruce felt that, despite what Anthony thought, what his friend really needed from him was affection, physical intimacy that was not just about sex. He rubbed his hands on his back gently and kissed him between his neck and shoulders, smiling to himself when Anthony hugged his head against him, fingers in his hair again. Anthony squirmed back a little so that he was sitting closer to his hips, making it less awkward to kiss him. Bruce kissed his chest and stomach before stopping to just hold him, letting Anthony nibble on him in turn. The feel of the smaller, very firm, man wiggling in his lap was quickly pressing anything else out of his mind so that he was soon back to feeling very aroused, and mildly worried.

Anthony loved the feel of so much warm muscle wrapped around him, large rough hands against his whole back and tender kisses across his front. He felt like he was melting into each touch and thought it would be a terrible shame if he never got to feel this again. He nibbled on the edge of one green ear in thanks. He could tell Bruce was very turned on, and that he was still concerned. This of course seemed to translate to him holding very still and moving very slowly when he did move. It was just as well, the more careful Bruce was now, the better he would take it later. Anthony imagined that if he came out of this without a single mark on him it would be enough of a surprise to quell Bruce’s anger once he realized what Anthony had done, or what they had done. He could not help but smirk deviously against his cheek where it could not be seen.

He wiggled his hips back slowly, making friction through the sheet and trying to indicate that he wanted Bruce to lower his legs so that he could sit further back. Bruce complied, straightening his legs and dropping his hands away from his back, and otherwise holding quite still. Anthony pulled the sheet back with him; uncovering what lay beneath and watching him blush at the sudden exposure. He made sure to move slowly himself from that moment forward, to make sure Bruce would be ready for whatever he did. He looked down then, hoping he had not been mistaken in his conviction that this was a good idea. He blushed himself, seeing him erect for the first time in this state. All of his skin was a healthy robust green that made him think of the liveliest plants, and here too. He was not mistaken that he would be somewhat larger, especially in concern to width, and in combination with thick and hard looking surface veins, he looked nearly muscular here too; despite that the appendage he was focusing on did not actually have much in the way of muscle tissue. He felt a jolt of nervous fluttering in his stomach, but he did not lose his resolve.

Bruce watched him look him over. Anthony still had the same lusty, heavy lidded look and had to close his eyes for a moment. This was overwhelming. Much as he felt compelled to be much more assertive with him, Anthony was a bit delicate for that, so he had little choice but to let him take the lead. He watched him give a slight head tilt, somewhere between curious and calculating, and run one hand gently over him. He inhaled sharply at the contact and his erection jumped against the touch. It felt intensely good. It had been a very long time since he last had contact like this, without being trapped in the back of his own mind. As it was he had not had too much in the way of experience in this state, and he could not keep his mind from how tight and warm Anthony would feel. He was not sure if he had ever had to concentrate on controlling his breathing after already being transformed before.

Anthony remembered Bruce’s long ago comment, that he felt like an exposed nerve, and he thought that if Bruce would normally describe it as nightmarish, that now he had the chance to make sure he felt something decidedly opposite and equally extreme. He watched two large hands move to the sides of the bed and grip lightly -for them- at the sides of the mattress. Anthony flashed him one of his reassuring confident smiles. He wondered what he was thinking, Bruce was always so inclined to tell him what he thought these days, but then he remembered that his friend was probably quite busy just feeling, and trying to stay still enough. Therefore, he wondered what exactly he was feeling instead. To Anthony those were so often tied so intricately together as to be practically the same thing, so it was interesting to him that his friend seemed to separate his intellectual self from his emotional self so much. In interest of giving him something enjoyable to feel, he shifted down slowly so he could lick him gently and watch his reaction. He was rewarded with a low groaning sound and a slow rise and fall of the hips underneath him. He was getting a bit unsure of how to proceed. On the one hand, he did not want to tease him too long, or get him too worked up. On the other, if he took things too quickly, Bruce would either get nervous and stop him, or have an even harder time of self-restraint. Shrugging to himself internally, he decided a good compromise would be to tease him until he was wet enough to make things easier. Bruce’s body, thankfully, had so far proven to always be eager to turn out plenty of clear slippery fluid, provided with the right stimulation. He rubbed his palm against the glands at the head, which had not grown too much in size, so that his erection was narrower at the tip; making him more at ease about what he had been planning.

Bruce watched him massage at him, occasionally licking or nipping him gently. He loved the feel of his teeth and facial hair on that intimate part of him. It reminded him, unconsciously of course, of the first time Anthony had kissed him, when his facial hair had been strange and exciting and his teeth had set off a flood of certainty and unrestrained want in his mind. He breathed deeply and relaxed, letting the pleasant feelings wash over him, not enough to revert to his alter ego, of course, but enough to feel placated rather than tense. That mouth, he wanted to kiss that mouth again, but now was not the time for that. Just when he was about to voice some kind of frustration over Anthony taking a little too much time slicking over him with his hands, his friend raised his head and sat up a bit straighter to look at him. He gave him a subtle nod, telling him he could go ahead, under their existing, unspoken, understanding of slowness.

Anthony crawled up higher on his hips, lifting the slippery hardness to almost meet him. He was leaning forward supporting his weight against a large muscled stomach with one hand. He thought it might be overwhelming to try this while maintaining eye contact; but then, conversely, it could be a bad idea to not watch Bruce’s reactions. He leaned back a little, towards his ankles to slowly make contact and then press lightly against him, feeling his muscles part around him. He made sure the tip was aligned properly and relaxed, leaning enough of his weight back to hold him in place when he let go, removing the arm that felt too awkward between his own legs. It was not difficult for him to relax. He had been so aroused for so long now, by the very idea of this, that he felt no impulse to tense up. The hard pressure against him felt exciting rather than threatening and he let it form a depression, between his tailbone and taint, into the slowly relaxing muscle. The consciously controlled outer muscle was not as much an issue, being relaxed and pliable; it was the involuntary muscle on the inside that he was giving time to slowly give way. He could feel that muscle stretching slowly wider as he increased the pressure against his opening, slowly sitting up a little straighter. Once the thicker inner muscle was relaxed around the unforgiving hardness -through his skin, making it feel tight- making the depression deep and round; he let the outer muscle slowly pressed open, allowing the tip to slide slowly inwards, finally making contact with the sensitive inner tissue. Anthony paused as the intense sensation from the slippery friction made him moan. He now fought the mild impulse to tense up, that sensitive flesh now trying to contract, not wanting to have to start over.

Bruce was mildly surprised by the amount of pressure his friend pressed down with before he felt the smooth heat spread out against his tip as the muscle relaxed and started to let him in. It felt a lot like pressing into something firm and soft and then having its firmer outer layer suddenly give way, like slowly pressing into a hot, ripe peach. He watched Anthony carefully, focusing on him, watching for any sign of pain. He doubled his effort to stay perfectly still, at this very critical point, only drawing shallow breath to be as motionless as possible. Anthony was not any warmer than he was, and yet, compared to the coolness of the air, it felt like a pleasantly burning heat slowly spilling over him, spreading outwards at first, and then slowly downwards. He wanted to hold his hips, but he did not quite trust his own strength at the moment, and so kept his fingers flexing and un-flexing around the edges of the mattress.

Anthony was relieved when Bruce was finally deep enough that he could let his muscles pulse gently around him as his body adjusted to the intrusion. He sat up straighter and slid his hands down to twine fingers into the thick curly dark green hair between his legs. His thighs felt like shaking from the overwhelming sensations and having to hold his weight to keep him from sliding down too fast. He let his legs slowly give up, feeling the stimulating pressure slide into him, stretching him a bit more as it got thicker, stroking up against the inside of his tailbone and against his prostate all along. He could feel the thick veins sliding into him, feeling like they were wiggling in little patterns along his friend’s erection. He was relived again when he felt his bottom settle against Bruce’s pelvic bone, he let his tired legs straighten some, his ankles sliding off the large man’s hips and down to the bed. With his legs out of the way, his own weight pressed him down further, but it felt satisfying.

Bruce was now breathing deeply and slowly, his eyes felt like tearing, though he could not pull them away from the overwhelming sight. His hands had forgotten to clench at the mattress and now settled against the pillows as he watched Anthony. Watching his friend slowly lower himself onto his impressive hardness was the most blatantly erotic thing he had ever seen. It was also endearing in a way he could not bother to define at the moment; Anthony doing that for him, for the most dangerous part of him, and obviously enjoying it that much; Anthony overwhelmed with lust by Bruce’s own sheer power and masculinity. He felt like his heart could stop. He watched Anthony bite his lip and look away sheepishly.

After taking a moment to adjust to the full length inside his body, Anthony realized one misstep in judgment he had made. He felt too weak-kneed to lift himself upwards again, to ride him properly. He was also too embarrassed to admit aloud to being a bit stuck. He moved as much as he could though, rocking forward to see what that would accomplish, and found that it was enough. He began to rock back and forth slowly, feeling the pleasure crawl deliciously up his own spine. The pressure against his prostate was overpowering. Some of his own weight was relieved by his arms -hands supported on Bruce’s pelvic bone and fingers twined into more dark hair- when he rocked forward, and was used to press him back down when he rocked back again. He felt that his own skin was cool and realized he was sweating heavily. He tried a few times to lift his ankles back onto his lover’s hips when he rocked forward, but he could not quite manage it and gave up his squirming in favour of the simple rocking motion.

Bruce enjoyed this shallow movement for some time, Anthony was so tight and warm that any movement felt amazing, but it became frustrating. He wanted to slide in and out more completely, and was sure Anthony could take it, but it did not look like his friend had the advantage needed for it. He gently brought his hands up under his thighs and lifted him off him slowly, leaving his tip buried in him. He was still weary about any motion to pull Anthony onto him, so he lifted his hips to meet him instead, so the only force pressing him down would be his own weight. He was rewarded with a low desperate moan as Anthony leaned back, his chin tipping upwards and his hands lifting, bracing himself by holding onto Bruce’s wrists.

Anthony melted at the feel of large warm hands covering the backs of his upper thighs, and then gasped as Bruce pulled out of him, straightening his spine. It was so sudden and intense, having the full length slide past all the sensitive nerves, pressing against them all along, being stretched just a bit wider as the thicker centre slid past his opening. Then he was being slid in and out of slowly, just the way he had been imagining, only real and intense. Bruce was moving softly, but he was so unbelievably hard. It was mind numbing. He felt himself shaking and knew he was moaning indecently loudly, but he could not care. Pleasure exploded out of him and he was pretty sure the yell he heard was his own voice. That pleasure only melted into more, satisfying at first and then almost too sensitive to bear, as he felt himself relax around him and Bruce kept moving gently inside of him.

Bruce would have been concerned about the sounds coming from Anthony, except that hot white fluid had streamed out of him to splash onto his stomach. Anthony’s head rocked back forward, too far to be able to see his face properly. Stylishly messy, sweat soaked hair slid forward, and he returned to low moaning and light gasping sounds. His muscles had stopped clenching as much but were sill pulsating around him. He was getting close and restricted himself to shallower motions, letting his orgasm creep up slowly, to avoid bucking up into him too suddenly or too harshly. It was not just concern for Anthony, relatively small and delicate as he was now, it was also a vindictive gentleness. He was more tired than anything of his alter ego’s accusations against him. He felt that if he took a turn with their pretty boyfriend, and did not hurt him, it would do a lot to shut Banner up.

Anthony felt Bruce’s motions get slower, and less smooth, as he stopped pulling out as far. Suddenly he felt him twitch inside him. It was a very strong involuntary motion that caused him to rock forward slightly, but it did not hurt. The motion happened again as Bruce held very still, poised half way in, then again, and then suddenly hot fluid was spurting up inside of him, being pressed all around the invading appendage in the confined space and leaking out, and down his thighs. This was accompanied by a light tightening of the fingers on his legs and a low growl-like moan.

It was almost painful having to tensely hold back his reactions as his orgasm washed over him, but it was a sweet discomfort. The sight in front of him -Anthony in his hands, soaking wet and happily exhausted- filled him with immense satisfaction. He pulled out completely and let his friend down gently to sit on the muscles between his hips. Anthony panted quietly, firmly pressing his fingers into Bruce’s muscled stomach and blushing.

Anthony crawled forward and lay down on top of him, trying to catch his breath and obviously too exhausted to stay awake. Bruce settled one hand gently onto his back and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Neither of them knew who fell asleep first.

~*~
A note from the author:
Well, I tried to ask you if this is what you wanted, no one answered me... It was a bit of a challenge-driven writing. For one because of a comment from my ex... and another because of mentioning the idea to a friend and them saying I should write it just to see if I could make it work.
This is my apology for taking so long to update. If you've read my DeviantART journal, you know my life has been a bit crazy lately, and full of new and distracting things. So sorry that took a while, but here's something that will make up for it for some people. Plenty more to come, we're about 80% through... Until the next story, for an alternate universe, where they were college roommates.... wetting anyone's appetite for that yet? Come to think of it, have any of you actually read the comics? Or am I writing to a bunch of movie-verse noobs (I say that with love)? Because if you read the comics for the alternate timeline, you'll WANT me to write for that, really.
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Acceptance