Friday: Smell

[enochia.livejournal.com]

Hi, enochia here, and this is the last day of my hosting. Today, I wanted to focus on one of the senses that gets little attention: smell. Of course, it doesn’t have to be about the sense only, ir can also be about what it feels: perfume, stink, pheromones, scent...

Rules are, as always:

- No more than three prompts in one fandom
- No more than five prompts in a row unless one of your prompts is filled. Then you can prompt again.
- No spoilers in prompts
- If your fill contains spoilers, please warn and leave plenty of space

Think of the codemonkeys and format your prompts properly:

Fandom, Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character + Character, Prompt

Examples:

BBC Sherlock, Molly, putrefaction
Any, any/any, poison flowers smell so sweet
Firefly, Inara + Kaylee, scent is an important part of the seduction game

If there is nothing that catches your fancy, take a look at the lonely prompts.

tag=smell

Comments

[enochia.livejournal.com]

BBC Sherlock, Molly, putrefaction

Not a fill, but

[analise010.livejournal.com]

I felt so smart when I knew what putrfaction was and I didn't need to use Google. :D

[enochia.livejournal.com]

Any, any/any, poison flowers smell so sweet

[orlidepp.livejournal.com]

Poison flowers smell so sweet. It was something she'd known as a botanist, and something she continued to employ in the role of her new life as Mother Earth's protector. Ivy loved all flowers, but the poisonous ones were her favorites. They were all beautiful, but those who possessed a danger akin to her own, though in much smaller amounts, of course, were the ones most beautiful and the ones with the sweetest scents.

They were her friends, and her calling cards. She covered factories in them. She strangled idiots with them and let them know what was coming to their foolish, selfish hides by blowing the dust of poisonous flowers into their faces. Any corrupt mogul in Gotham, any person who had ever destroyed an innocent plant, tree, or flower, knew what was coming to them the moment they spied a rare orchid she left in their mailbox, on their desk, or on the steps of their very home.

They saw the flower first, and then they saw her. Like her flowers, Ivy's touch was silken. Her beauty called to them so strongly that few men or women could deny the attraction that pulled them straight forward to their deaths. Her touch was soft as a rose's petals as she wrapped her gloved hands around their necks and mouths. She saw the desire in their eyes, the desperate longing to touch what they knew they shouldn't, as her mouth angled in for hers.

When she kissed them, for one rare moment in their lives, the humans felt pure ecstasy, something very few of them had ever experienced before. Even those who had known pleasure never knew a pleasure like that which Ivy poured into them as her tongue slipped into their mouths. But, then, just like the Venus flytrap, she opened up further and ensnared her fly. Poison swept from her touch to fill their bodies.

Every one of them trembled against her in those last, fleeting moments. She'd often smile down at them and remark that they shouldn't play with Mother Nature or touch poison, but all the time, she knew they wouldn't be the last ones. There would always be humans who chose to overlook the poison of the world's rarest beauties, who thought they could get away with cultivating rare flowers like herself without being gripped back by equally hurtful hands, who thought they could rule Mother Nature.

Yet, Ivy knows no one rules Mother Nature. That's why the world's most beautiful plants are poisonous: to protect her beauty and her grace. Every selfish human who wants to possess all that is beautiful will not say no when they know they should. They won't turn from a beautiful thing they can control but, ultimately, never can, and in the end, that beauty will always control them. It will also be the means by which Ivy returns the Earth to her true glory: The selfishness and greed of the human race will continue to do them in every night until there are none of their kind left and only the plants and Ivy remain.

[enochia.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Inara + Kaylee, scent is an important part of the seduction game

[enochia.livejournal.com]

World of Darkness, any Gangrel + any Werewolf, who can find the prey faster?

[enochia.livejournal.com]

Any, any, fetch me the smelling salts!

[quitehopeless.livejournal.com]

A/N: Um, I have no idea if this is anything like what you might have had in mind, but leni_ba requested it, and I tend to write Gone with the Wind for those prompts/requests. I went with this AU I have where Bonnie lives, but it's not all that important to know that for this. Just that Rhett and Scarlett are getting along and being scandalous.

---

“Uncle Peter! My smelling salts!”

Scarlett pulled up her wrap over her shoulder, trying desperately not to laugh. Rhett, the skunk, already was. Both of them should have known better, but he was the devil himself and couldn't seem to keep his hands off her these days. She should never have agreed to any new leaf, even if Bonnie's accident had scared them into behaving better toward each other.

“I think we've shocked the Confederacy,” Rhett said, and Scarlett snorted. “All those sensibilities...”

“You skunk. You knew they were out there when you started this.”

“I couldn't help it. I was unable to resist your charms.”

“My charms? Fiddle-de-dee,” she said, sweeping away from him. “You'd use any excuse to do that to Aunt Pitty.”

He laughed as he leaned against the doorway. “Actually, I'd have preferred to finish what we started, Mrs. Butler.”

Scarlett considered that. “Maybe. But you'd better fetch the smelling salts first.”

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

Dark Angel, Joshua, X-5s smell like cats

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot, distinctive smell

[orlidepp.livejournal.com]

She has a distinctive smell. It isn't Chanel #5 like most ladies of her wealth and prestige wear, nor is it the perfume that she dots sparingly across her body, knowing she doesn't need it to make her the woman she is or hide the woman she doesn't want the world to know her as. It's richer than any perfume. There's a tinge of vanilla to it, and of roses, but it's also sweeter than any baked confection or plant in all of existence. Eliot knows this well, because he's eaten, cooked, and tended to plants all across the globe. There isn't a single pastry or flower that he doesn't know.

When he closes his eyes and just lets her scent wrap around him, sometimes it reminds him of sunshine, of days spent lounging on the beach away from the rest of the team, sneaking kisses and caresses in the water that they know would foil the future they both desire if ever the others learned of what they truly do when left alone in each other's company. At other times, it reminds him of a night they spent dancing in Spain, or another night dining eloquently on the top floor of the most expensive restaurant in the city. Her scent reminds him, too, of diamonds as it seems almost to glisten on the breeze around her.

Yet it comes from none of these things and from all of them. It's mysterious and welcoming, the one scent in all the world that can make him smile even when he's bleeding so profusely that he can smell nothing else but his own blood until she comes near and gives him a reason to keep fighting. It's helped to lure him out of one of his rages and is often the first sign of the real world around him that Eliot catches onto when returning to himself. It even slips into his sleep, wrapping around his head like an intoxicating cloud and giving him the first good dreams Eliot's had since his life turned into a war.

Part of him wants to take her away from all this. He's often dreamed of hiding her in a bottle, keeping her and her scent just for himself like the rare treasure she is, far more precious than any gold or silver, but he knows he'll never be able to convince her to leave the team. He doesn't really want to leave the team himself. They both finally have a family, after all, but he doesn't want anything to happen to her. He wants to be able to bury himself in her and in her scent forever and keep them away from all dangers and anything else that might taint them, but he knows he can't.

Instead, thereby, Eliot contents himself to follow her scent wherever it goes. He buries his face in the smell of her hair and neck, her flesh, her very essence, every opportunity they get when they're alone. He clings to that scent in times of bad and continues to relish it in the good times, as well. He cherishes the scent and lets it mystery alone, not trying to decipher its secret no more than he will its owner.

They're mysterious. They're beautiful and wonderful, and if Eliot never quite determines everything that makes up the scent, or the woman, that's perfectly fine with him. He knows all he needs to know in this case: He knows he loves the scent and the woman who wears it. He knows he will gladly follow Sophie Deveraux to the very furthest edge of the world any time she asks him, even if just to catch another whiff of that delightful, delectable scent that is one thing more than any other. It's her, the woman he loves and who loves him in turn, and that, ultimately, more than any other reason, is why Eliot will always follow that delicious scent wherever it goes.

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

any, any, breath of fresh air

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

any, any, That stinks!

[clwilson2006.livejournal.com]

SGA, Lorne/Parrish, sweat and gun oil

Fill, Parrish/Lorne UST

[theeverdream.livejournal.com]

Lorne hates himself a little right now.

The situation is not his fault, okay? Totally not his fault that more scientists are needed to join offworld teams on a permanent basis. It's technically his fault that he had recommended Parrish because of his cool head and ability to take orders the time or two he'd accompanied him for offworld sample collections, but Lorne doesn't feel bad about that because they need good people out there.

But this, now? The way his breath quickens at Parrish's bright grin after the conclusion of the new team's first mission, a confidence-instilling milk-run... the way his heart thumps excitedly at the thought of more dangerous missions honing Parrish's training on the range into something more refined... the way he can't help but imagine Parrish pressed into the mattress underneath him, alien dirt smudged across a smiling cheekbone and ground under fingernails, the smell of gun oil and sweat and arousal all over and under and so, so sweet....

The way that he's taking advantage, even in his own head, of the loss of innocence of someone he's been trained to protect?

Yeah. That's all his fault.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam, he can smell demon blood a mile wide and while it doesn't stop the cravings, at least they can't surprise him anymore

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Silmarillion, any, smelling salt and seawater

Mini-fill (sorry for stream-of-consciousnessish)

[enochia.livejournal.com]

He breathes in and smells seawater. Yet it matters not how deep he draws the breath in; all salt of Ekkaia is not enough to cover that other scent – that one’s salty, too, but not the same, there is something else to it – rust? Even though they have scrubbed the decks and their armour and weapons clean, it lingers in the air still.

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, any, the smell of blood

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, any/any, sex pollen makes one person smell irresistible to the other

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, Nearly-Headless Nick, House Elves save the rotten food for months for his deathday parties, but the smell is never strong enough to translate to taste

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, the smell of soap

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean+/Castiel, the stink of Hell

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Assassin's Creed, any, the scent of danger in the air

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, those 51st century pheromones

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Any, any/any, ambergris

No Fill, but

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

... For some reason, this prompt makes me geek out a little. *grins sheepishly* Ambergris is just one of the most historically fascinating substances. Like amber (the amber road (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amber_Road)), or saffron (which at one point, during the Black Death in Europe, was considered more valuable than gold (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_saffron#Post-Classical_European)). Ambergris is the same, between its uses in perfumery, and the history it has with the Black Death ...

Um. Yes. Geeking out finished now. *grins faintly*

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Gwaine/any, he just smells irresistable

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Any, any, follow your nose, it has a better sense of direction than your heart

Like A Slow Fire Burn (Team Fortress 2, Scout > Miss Pauling)

[measuringlife.livejournal.com]

here (http://measuringlife.livejournal.com/866679.html)

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, Tobias pre-series, the smell of fresh bread

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, Ax, getting used to his strong(er) human nose

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, Cassie (& Marco), following the scent trail