YEAHHHH THAT'S THE STUFF - Blog Posts

Even more Manfred and Fred please 🥺 maybe Rook can bring Fred a friend and Emmrich is flustered but can't stay mad at them 😂🐸

Very well, dear Anon :D

Rook and Manfred were giggling in Emmrich’s rooms.

Normally that would bring a smile to the necromancer’s face and a burning sense of love and contentment to his heart.

But today it didn’t. There was a difference between Rook and Manfred having fun, and Rook and Manfred conspiring.

And Emmrich knew them both well enough to know the difference.

“Big!” exclaimed Manfred.

The spirit of curiosity was kneeling in front of the fireplace beside Rook. Their backs were to the door. Neither of them had heard him come in.

“It is a lot bigger,” Rook was saying. “It might not fit. This one’s okay though. What do you think?”

“Pretty spots,” Manfred cooed. “Like Harding.”

Rook laughed and Emmrich nearly lost his nerve as he crept up behind them. There were few things that got to him like that low, contagiously happy sound.

“Yeah, it does look a bit like her freckles. You could call it freckles.”

“No. Harding.”

“Well okay, that makes sense. What about the other one?”

“Yes,” Emmrich whispered in Rook’s ear. “What about the other one?”

Rook made a new, and completely unique sound that Emmrich had never heard in or out of the Veil. He didn’t know the human ear could comprehend sounds of that pitch.

Every hair on Rook’s head was standing on end as they whirled around. “How did you do that!?!?!?! Are you Emmrich’s ghost?! Why did you do that?! Are you trying to kill me!?”

“What other one, Rook?” Emmrich said sternly.

“Uhhh…” Rook tried to hide what the necromancer now realized was Manfred’s terrarium with their body. It did not work.

Manfred turned, holding aloft not one, but two handfuls of frog.

One was rather large, and muddy brown, the other was small and almost charmingly speckled with little golden spots.

“Vorgoth!” Manfred declared as the frog’s little legs dangled from his fists. They seemed very unconcerned about the deadly drop below them.

“Wh–Where did you get those?” Emmrich sputtered.

“Rook!” Manfred pointed the newly minted ‘Vorgoth,’ at the person in question.

Rook chagrined and bounced back and forth on their toes. “Yes…well…”

“Why?” Emmrich begged, gesturing to the already extravagantly large and well decorated terrarium in which Fred the frog basked like a little king in his own slimy kingdom.

The necromancer’s arm shook emphatically, grave gold jingling, as if to say: ‘See?! Look at what I have already done for my precocious skeleton son! Is this not enough?! Do you doubt that I love him?! What more must I do!?’

“Fred looked lonely,” Rook admitted.

Emmrich’s arm fell.

“Alone,” Manfred moaned softly, tucking the additional frogs against his collarbone like one would a pair of kittens.

Emmrich sighed all the way to his chair, leaving behind a mournful trail in the air, pinching the bridge of his nose, and collapsing at last into the seat.

“Well…it was kind of you to name them after Vorgoth and Harding after they helped us with your terrarium, Manfred. We must send Vorgoth a note. And get Harding…a new plant?”

“She likes cheese,” Rook said helpfully, seating themself on the ground against Emmrich’s legs.

Emmrich wasn’t fooled. They were only sitting there to trap him. The selfish wretch.

He let his fingers curl in their hair as together they watched Manfred place Vorgoth and Harding into the tank, giving them a tour in the soft little voice he reserved only for his frog…er, frogs.