#frozen treats

[daily-deliciousness]

Raspberry sorbet

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Purples ~

[umutrblg]

[stone-cold-groove]

Rocket Brand ice cream with sundae center.

[1lifeinspired]

Dark Chocolate Raspberry Popsicles

[photozoi]

Frozen treats!!!

Jeep and the Wizzard enjoy the unexpected snowfall.    Borzoi

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Would Sun like milkshakes?

He absolutely would!

He would also like fruit smoothies :3

[vickyvonsilk]

Bomb pop anyone?

[take-a-dip-in-the-deadpool]

*jingle jingle sound*

Oh! hey!! Its a Dicky Dee!!

Heres their menu!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Unverfroren

This last one has been written for my beloved husband...who has requested Gothmog x OC for some (to me) unfathomable reason.

As ever, his wish is my command though. Gotty and my husband are my best boys after all.

Words: 1098

Characters: Gothmog x OC (Nienna, Estë, background Angbang)

Prompt: Frozen Treats

Warnings: Nothing. There's ice cream

“It’s your turn,” Lady Estë smiled at the small Maia awaiting the list of tasks. “They have been restless for a while now and we’d prefer if someone went to make sure everything is all right.”

Out of habit and sly caution, she—whose name was the soft sigh of the west wind caressing the weeping willows—made sure to express her distaste and reluctance as clearly as possible.

“Don’t make that face,” Lady Nienna chided softly. “We all know that you delight in this particular assignment.”

At the beginning of all things, the Maia who was now mostly known as V had been but a wandering spirit, watching the murky pools and treacherous marches and warning wayward wanderers.

In time though, she had been recruited by Lady Nienna for her unusual but highly effective brand of solace. Indeed, V cultivated an unafraid, rather hands-on kind of comfort and thus, Lady Estë—good-sister to her official Mistress—had been known to borrow the brazen Maia in times of need.

“It is even said that you’ve struck up a fragile friendship with the Lord of Balrogs,” Lady Estë muttered as if to herself; V flinched back as if struck, puckering her lips and drawing her brows together to exacerbate the outward impression of unwillingness.

“We do not judge you,” Lady Nienna interjected soothingly, “for it is good and proper to extend a, if not friendly then at least neutral, hand to those who have long abided in the everlasting darkness.”

V sighed—she knew that the Lady of Mercy meant every word passing her colourless, trembling lips. Many had called her credulous and naïve, but—within her heart of hearts—V agreed.

Even though the enemies of the Valar and the Children alike had been banished to the deepest, remotest spaces that had ever been sung into existence, they were still part of the great symphony of creation and thus, they were attended by an ever-changing roster of Maiar.

“I shall check on them promptly then,” V muttered, recognising that her desperate charade was not fooling anyone, and withdrew.

While she made her way to the wavering limits of the Forbidden Realm, V mused about her Ladies' stance—it was unfortunate and hardly advisable to be so distracted upon undertaking a challenge of this magnitude, but, as had been pointed out so flippantly, she was used to the unfortunate creatures beyond the impermeable veil before her.

"V," the Dark Lord called imperiously as soon as she had slipped through, his voice reverberating mightily, "good that you've come. Gothmog needs your help."

Rolling her eyes in a dangerous act of defiance that betrayed her lack of fear and awe, she gave a curt nod.

By the Valar's decree, Melkor—the implacable foe—had been robbed of a good part of his power and influence to avoid another unfortunate incident that might upset the peace and balance of the Blessed Realm.

Nevertheless, he seemed to delight in discomfiting and frightening the other Maiar who came to check on the state of things regularly.

V knew not what exactly made her different from her peers, after all, conforming to uniformity was a prerequisite of her station, but the Dark Lord seemed to have taken a peculiar liking to her.

"You're his favourite," he declared with a wink and waved his huge, clawed hand in a random direction.

The smoky, diaphanous walls of the pseudo-room flickered and V found herself in a rudimentary kitchen.

Maybe, she thought with a guilty grin, it had been the many tiny items and alterations she had snuck into this accursed place to alleviate the perilous boredom gnawing on the prisoners.

The Valar, she knew, were never more dangerous and lethal than when they were bored or frustrated.

This also held true for Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, fellow Maia, and the most gloriously charming creature in all of creation.

"Hello you," V called in a slightly breathless voice, "I've heard you needed my assistance?"

A deep frown marred the fiery brow of the formerly much-dreaded demon as he turned around, a small pot—wrapped in several layers of protective cloth—in his claws.

“Since when does a Balrog need oven mittens?” V laughed, shaking her head and stepping closer as her curiosity made her forget about the very strict safety regulations she was supposed to follow.

“It’s not hot,” Gothmog grumbled with a crooked grin, “it’s cold.”

Astonished, V leaned over the pot.

“It’s something Lord Melkor has created for Mairon—I wanted to recreate it for their anniversary but…you can see why certain problems would arise, can’t you?”

V pressed her lips together to suppress a snigger; the mere mental image of the dreadful Lord of Darkness making iced cream for his beloved was too endearing and funny to be borne with a straight face.

Moreover, she could not help but be utterly bewitched by the earnest effort Gothmog had put into his own plan despite the foreseeable setbacks a fire Maia would invariably encounter with frozen treats.

“Here,” she purred, letting her hands caress along the back of his own soothingly. “Let me help you.”

Sliding in between the massive, partially crystalline body of her hereditary foe and the sturdy wooden workbench she had dragged all the way to this Eru-forsaken place for him, V stirred the already thawing slush before lifting the spoon—a utensil deemed safe even by Manwë—to her face.

Again, she was amazed. The ice cream was actually, undeniably good—neither too sweet nor too bland—and her prickling lips curved upward instantly.

“Does it burn?” Gothmog asked, worried, and laid his massive paws on V’s slender shoulders as if to dispel the adverse effect he seemed to expect his creation to have on her. “Lord Melkor and Mairon do enjoy a dash of pain at times…”

“I am fine,” V laughed, turning around in his embrace and boldly leaning her cheek against the searing heat of his chest. “Thank you for asking though. Tell me, dear prisoner, how much of this have you made?”

She certainly did not seek to rob the incarnations of literal evil of their rare and probably well-deserved treat.

“Oh, there are pots and pots of aborted attempts,” Gothmog admitted dejectedly.

“Well,” V said slyly, “it would be a shame to let it all go to waste.”

Remembering the jeering and benign mockery of her superiors, she did not mind giving them the time to worry about her whereabouts and well-being for a while. Especially, if she could eat delicious ice cream with her favourite “chore”.

@fellowshipofthefics: this concludes July for me. I've filled every prompt at least once. Thank you again for this amazing event!

[kingscrown666]

[daily-deliciousness]

Strawberry shortcake ice cream

[antvnger]

scoottiieeeee i left you something in the freezer! my treat!

*chortles* I swear, Azara, if it’s that gross excuse for ice cream you left for me, I’m going to get you.

What’d ya get me?

[taintedpastries]

Visited the mall!! T

the ice cream was 6/10

Shame it was just vanilla but still cool

[stone-cold-groove]

Hello! May I suggest a sundae?

[sinisterjelly]

animation I made for Andy at "Frozen Treats" for his new album "The Engineer"