caffeinewitchcraft:

(yaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS)

“That should do it,” El says to himself. He surveys the line of boardgames and snacks, of paper and crayons, of clay and sculpting tools. He nods in satisfaction, hands braced on his hips. Barring some actual intent, this visit should go well.

The doorbell rings.

Despite his preparations, El’s heart leaps in his chest. He swallows and heads slowly towards the front of his house. “It’s fine. It’s been a year. Surely they’ve forgotten about leap frog.”

“We have not forgotten about leap frog,” Pym, his sister, calls through the door. She sounds harried which is fairly common in recent years. Having three terrors graduate from the diaper stage does that.

El opens the door to find the said three terrors gathered around their mother, hands full of colorful backpacks and wide, menacing grins on their faces.

“Uncle El!” Imogene, the ring leader shouts. She’s missing two of her front teeth and her yellow pants are already stained with mud. “Are you going to turn Bill into a frog again?”

Bill, the youngest, looks sullenly up at El. “I don’t wanna be a frog again.”

The middle child, Elizabeth, named after El, hides behind her mother’s leg.

“To be fair,” El tells his sister, “you and I both know he wasn’t actually a frog.”

“He hopped,” Pym says shortly. “He ate a fly, El. I want all of my children walking and eating human food when I come back.” Her eyes narrow. “Do I make myself clear?”

El’s spine snaps straight. “Right, yes, of course! I– just, when will you be back?” He winces at the plea in his voice and tries to look more confident.

Pym stares at him. “Walking. Human food. See you Tuesday.” She drops a kiss on the top of each of her kids’ heads. El can feel the protection sigils activate on each of them, dropping a cool shield down to the earth.

“Tuesday,” El repeats. He squawks. “Tuesday?! Pym that’s nearly a week–”

“Behave for Uncle El,” Pym calls over her shoulder. “And if he does anything bad, use the thing I gave you.”

“I’ll keep him in line,” Imogene says. She waves enthusiastically at her mother’s back. “Bye Mom!”

“Keep me in line?” The children seem a lot more menacing all of the sudden. “Pym! What did you give them?”

“Insurance,” Bill says, obviously quoting his mother. He glares at El. “Don’t wanna be a frog again.”

Elizabeth looks up at him and draws a line across her throat before going back to studying her own shoes. She reminds him so much of Pym when they were kids.

He worries for his life.

“Tuesday,” El says to himself faintly. He makes a note to not be alone in the same room as Elizabeth. He goes for a weak smile. “Right, um, why don’t you all come in? I have some board games–”

“We don’t want to play board games,” Elizabeth announces. The gap between her teeth makes all her s sounds whistle. “We want to play hopscotch.”

“Hopscotch,” Bill says solemnly. He rummages in his pack to pull out a small box of chalk. “Mom says we can draw on your driveway.”

El just bets she does. Still, at least it’s not leap frog or rhymes and hand games or bloody Mary. “Of course. Yes. Go…do that.” 

Bill and Elizabeth race off, dumping the chalk out on the ground as soon as they get to the open expanse of concrete. Imogene, a bare year or so older than them, walks at a more dignified pace.

“Don’t forget,” Imogene says to her siblings with the tone of someone with a lot of experience, “step on a crack and break your mother’s back!”

“Okay,” Bill and Elizabeth chorus. El, to his horror, feels the words sink into the ground, spinning and growing as the children begin to lay down the chalk lines.

Why didn’t he get his driveway redone last year?

“Pym,” El whimpers and rushes forward.