Hello to all the readers out there! This is my very first fan fiction to ever be posted, so needless to say, your help in any aspect would be greatly appreciated!

The main focus of this story is the relations ship HellBoy and Liz have with their now adult children.

I chose to make the kids young adults because it is much easier to create conflict with people that age; don't you agree?

I also centered the story around HellBoy's daughter because I felt that she would be the most vulnerable character, and then later on the strongest (well, maybe not physically, but you get the point.)

Also, if I have any facts wrong (which I'm sure is a total possibility), please feel free to correct me.

Lastly, this story is definitely a work in progress, so bear with me! _!

Thanks millions!

BBTM

They both stared down at me as I sat on the edge of my bed; my sleeves were pushed all the way up to my armpits, revealing the web work of cuts and scratches on my arms. I looked anywhere – everywhere- but at my parents. I finally settled on looking at the patch of ground between my sneakers, knowing it was the safest place for my eyes to be.

Dad snorted; Mom sat down on the bed next to me, an arm around my shoulders. "Hon…" she started, giving me a squeeze. "Talk to us…we want to help; honest."

I snorted this time, rolled my eyes, and shrugged out from under her shoulder. "There's nothing to be helped." I said firmly, hoping it would end the conversation. Hoping it would make them leave, so I could – hopefully- retrieve my dearest friend from my sock drawer

My dad, God bless him, had to sit down on the floor in front of me, and then bend down even more to find my gaze. Once he held my gaze in his, there was not escape; kind of like looking at a gorgon, only not deadly. His was a gaze of true sadness and hurt, something I had never seen in my 18 years.

I can remember hearing him rant about a comic book when I was young. It had been a gift from a boy at school, and brought it home to show to my parents. I was so excited because Daddy was on the cover. I had shown Mommy in the car on the way home, and she had smiled a little, saying it was nice, but never taking her eyes off the road.

Once we got home, I raced to find my Dad, eager to show him my new treasure. I found him in the bathroom, putting away clean towels in the cabinets under the sink. I remember that we had towels and toilet paper under the sinks, and all the cleaning supplies were on the high shelves that my brother and I couldn't reach.

Dad stopped what he was doing, dropped the towel he had held in his hand, and scooped me up into his big, right hand. He smelled of what I later discovered to be cigar smoke, forever a comforting a scent to me. "Daddy! Look at what Andrew gave me at school today!"

Dad sat down on the edge of the bathtub, me resting on his knee. "What is it today, Blair Bear? "

I pulled the comic book out from under my shirt (and seeing as I was seven, you couldn't really tell that it was under there), and held it out for him to see. He took it in his left hand, his smile fading a little, then lifting up into a coy grin.

"I've never really liked these comics…they never get the eyes right."

Which is true; the HellBoy comics can't capture the softness of my Dad's soul, hidden behind his large orange-yellow eyes.

I snapped my eyes shut and shook my head. "Don't look at me like that Dad," I said softly.

"Don't look at you like what, Blair?" he asked, his voice a comforting deep rumble. I felt his large left hand push my dark hair aside.

Mom put her arm around my shoulders again, and this time, I didn't protest. Might as well make them feel better…

Mom used her left hand to push my black hair behind my left ear. It was a little scary, back then, how much I was like my mother. The same dark hair, the same pale, sad face, the same pyrokinetic abilities…The same insomnia due to a fear of setting the house on fire in my dreams.

The only part of me which came from my father was my eyes; the same smoldering flame color, which fascinated the average people I was surrounded by in my life.

"I really don't want to talk about this," I said softly, opening my eyes to look into my father's. "I just…can't right now…"

I reached my hand out to Dad, and he took it in between both of his – his large regular hand, and his even larger stone hand. He looked at our hands for a moment, and then looked up at me. "Okay," was all he said.

Mom squeezed my shoulders lightly, kissed my head, and then stood up from the bed. "We're right down the hall if you need us," she said softly, placing a hand on my dad's shoulder before walking out of my room.

The door closed softly behind mom as she left the room; ever since I could remember, my mother had been a gentle person. She was quiet, and extra careful with both me and my younger brother Trevor. It was almost like she was afraid that we would break.

My dad sighed, gave my hands a gentle squeeze, and then stood up, his hands on his waist. "Alright, kid, time to talk."

I huffed, pulled down my sleeves and crossed my arms across my chest. "No, Dad." I said as I stood up from my bed and walked to my desk. I sprinkled some fish food into the tank which sat on my desk, amongst the many books and papers I had acquired throughout high school and my first semester of college.

"Look, Blair, you're not getting out of this one." I heard my bed squeak as Dad sat down on it. "Either you talk to me now, or I'll get Abe involved."

I shook my head as I watched my tetras dance around each other in the water. "Do whatever makes you happy," I scoffed, sitting down in my desk chair and resting my chin in front of the aquarium.

I heard my Dad sigh as he stood up. "You know what? Fine. Stay quiet. But you better hand over whatever you're using to hurt yourself."

I stood from the chair, walked across the room, and jerked the sock drawer open. I pushed sock rolls aside until I found my treasure box in the back left corner of the drawer. I reached inside and withdrew a blade that had once been inside a box cutter which I had stolen from the theater department at my school.

I closed everything back up, turned back to my dad and dropped the blade in his stone hand. "There," I said, as he turned and started to head out the door. "I'll just find something new if I really want to!"

Dad stood in the door way a moment, and then closed it behind him as he left, not a gently as Mom had, but gently for him.