Fairies?

Well that 2nd paragraph is mine from this very thread. I posted that to NuclearFairy.
It was you are correct I started with your work and expanded on it. I found it very difficult to start from nothing so to encapsulate the feelings you put into the idea and the concept of the characters I used it within my idea. I should have asked first. I do apologise for not doing this.
 
Just lead with it in quotes and put the original posters name
It was you are correct I started with your work and expanded on it. I found it very difficult to start from nothing so to encapsulate the feelings you put into the idea and the concept of the characters I used it within my idea. I should have asked first. I do apologise for not doing this.
Just put it in quotes next time and the original posters/ writers name, and yes always ask permission. The lack of quotes around it leads one to believe you are taking it and claiming it as your own. We're good, but if you publish it like this please remember this. Other than that I do like the rest of it and it's a huge compliment to me that something I wrote Inspired that.
 
Just lead with it in quotes and put the original posters name

Just put it in quotes next time and the original posters/ writers name, and yes always ask permission. The lack of quotes around it leads one to believe you are taking it and claiming it as your own. We're good, but if you publish it like this please remember this. Other than that I do like the rest of it and it's a huge compliment to me that something I wrote Inspired that.
I think it needs to be taken further by someone far better than me. Hence me risking the wrath of the forum police by posting the work so far on the thread. I can not recall who mentions Baba Yaga but it is also in there. Or was that John Wick.
 
I didn't see anything specific you wrote about Baba Yaga that someone else said as a concept or using someone else's words so think your good? As for someone else taking it up well it's your ideas, your words, write it up. There are far better writers than me here as well, but I wouldn't surrender one damn thing I've written or want to write to anyone, ever.
I think it needs to be taken further by someone far better than me. Hence me risking the wrath of the forum police by posting the work so far on the thread. I can not recall who mentions Baba Yaga but it is also in there. Or was that John Wick.
 
I have been working on your paragraph trying to expand on it, I am not sure I have made it better.

The gnarled, serpentine roots of the colossal ancient oak did not merely support her dwelling, but formed its very armature, an organic, subterranean embrace that cradled the hut as if it were a precious, petrified seed. This was less a construct of human hands, and more an extrusion of the living earth itself, a structure so deeply integrated into the forest floor that it seemed to breathe with the slow, deliberate rhythm of the soil, its dark timbered walls emerging like the boughs of a lesser tree or the exposed ribs of some long-forgotten woodland giant. It was an osseous structure, a dwelling whose very bones were the ancient, twisting sinews of the forest itself, a natural cavern shaped by time and growth rather than plank and nail.

Lichen, in shades of silver-grey, velvet-green, and russet-gold, clung like ancient thoughts to its warped timbers. Each delicate patch, a miniature, verdant tapestry, seemed to chronicle forgotten epochs, the slow, patient crawl of years etched onto the wood like a secret language. The timbers themselves, smoothed by centuries of wind and rain, their grain polished to a sombre sheen, exhaled a faint, earthy fragrance that mingled with the heavier, more potent aromas within. The air inside was a heavy, intoxicating brew: the rich, loamy scent of undisturbed humus, a promise of decomposition and rebirth; the pungent, almost acrid perfume of bruised herbs – mugwort and yarrow, hemlock and nightshade – their medicinal and magical essences coiling through the space. But beneath these, a deeper, more elusive aroma lingered: the mineral tang of ancient stone, the electric, pre-storm ozone of primal magic, and the undeniable, vast emptiness of time itself. It was the scent of the forest's dreaming, of forgotten seasons and unwritten histories, a profound and elemental presence that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of one's bones.

This primal sanctuary, humming with an unseen cadence, was the inviolable domain of Morwen, the Crone. Her memory wasn't merely long; it was a boundless ocean, stretching back further than the first sapling dared breach the soil, further than the first fell axe echoed through the primeval woods. She recalled the grinding of glaciers, the shifting of continents, the slow, patient unfolding of the world before humankind had even formed its first, crude thought. The brief, flickering span of human prayer, of human history, was but a fleeting sigh against the vast, silent tapestry of her remembrance. She was not just old; she was a living chronicle of existence, a whisper from the very dawn of the world, carrying the weight of eons in the lines etched upon her face and the silent, knowing depths of her eyes.
 
xxxecil has his Faeophobia series on Lit, which is creepy-good-ick. Not my personal cuppa, but - impressive writing none the less, IMO.

There are plenty of other fae and fae-like tales in the lit archives. Alarune, nymphs, sylphs, etc etc etc - lots of mystical kinda-humanoid nasty fuckers (in several interpretations of the words) out there. As usual the search.literotica.com page is your friend to see what others've done - keywords to try include but are NOT limited to: fae, faery, fairy, alarune, nymph....

More mainstream tales like the Iron Druid (celt spellworker who deliberately warped his magic to make his touch deadly to the fae) are out there too, or Harry Dresden (won't give spoilers except to note that he starts the series with a true bitch of a faery godmother) among many others.
 
I have been working on your paragraph trying to expand on it, I am not sure I have made it better.

The gnarled, serpentine roots of the colossal ancient oak did not merely support her dwelling, but formed its very armature, an organic, subterranean embrace that cradled the hut as if it were a precious, petrified seed. This was less a construct of human hands, and more an extrusion of the living earth itself, a structure so deeply integrated into the forest floor that it seemed to breathe with the slow, deliberate rhythm of the soil, its dark timbered walls emerging like the boughs of a lesser tree or the exposed ribs of some long-forgotten woodland giant. It was an osseous structure, a dwelling whose very bones were the ancient, twisting sinews of the forest itself, a natural cavern shaped by time and growth rather than plank and nail.

Lichen, in shades of silver-grey, velvet-green, and russet-gold, clung like ancient thoughts to its warped timbers. Each delicate patch, a miniature, verdant tapestry, seemed to chronicle forgotten epochs, the slow, patient crawl of years etched onto the wood like a secret language. The timbers themselves, smoothed by centuries of wind and rain, their grain polished to a sombre sheen, exhaled a faint, earthy fragrance that mingled with the heavier, more potent aromas within. The air inside was a heavy, intoxicating brew: the rich, loamy scent of undisturbed humus, a promise of decomposition and rebirth; the pungent, almost acrid perfume of bruised herbs – mugwort and yarrow, hemlock and nightshade – their medicinal and magical essences coiling through the space. But beneath these, a deeper, more elusive aroma lingered: the mineral tang of ancient stone, the electric, pre-storm ozone of primal magic, and the undeniable, vast emptiness of time itself. It was the scent of the forest's dreaming, of forgotten seasons and unwritten histories, a profound and elemental presence that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of one's bones.

This primal sanctuary, humming with an unseen cadence, was the inviolable domain of Morwen, the Crone. Her memory wasn't merely long; it was a boundless ocean, stretching back further than the first sapling dared breach the soil, further than the first fell axe echoed through the primeval woods. She recalled the grinding of glaciers, the shifting of continents, the slow, patient unfolding of the world before humankind had even formed its first, crude thought. The brief, flickering span of human prayer, of human history, was but a fleeting sigh against the vast, silent tapestry of her remembrance. She was not just old; she was a living chronicle of existence, a whisper from the very dawn of the world, carrying the weight of eons in the lines etched upon her face and the silent, knowing depths of her eyes.
Your imagery is fantastic and I don't think you need to work on this part anymore. Damn. I can smell it. The last paragraph is my favorite. A wonderful description of the Earth goddess and what she encompasses. Well done.
 
BIG QUESTION, HOW DO I MAKE THIS SEXY, OR SHOULD I?
Been working through each paragraph and I have not found a way to make sex or erotica into the story just mysticism.
 
BIG QUESTION, HOW DO I MAKE THIS SEXY, OR SHOULD I?
Been working through each paragraph and I have not found a way to make sex or erotica into the story just mysticism.
It doesn't need to be sexy. Not all of the stories in sci-fi/fantasy have sex in them. And in my opinion, if it doesn't come organically, it's best not to force it.
 
BIG QUESTION, HOW DO I MAKE THIS SEXY, OR SHOULD I?
Been working through each paragraph and I have not found a way to make sex or erotica into the story just mysticism.
The classic pairing for an earth goddess is a sky god. So talk about the winds blowing, vibrating her tree-home and tickling her unexpectedly. Maybe talk about a water god or goddess trying to get her attention, and the threesome they experience in a giant storm - rain and wind, roaring as both stroke every bit they can reach while her foilage blows away and her core becomes visible to her would-be lovers.

Alternately, you could pull a Norns/Fates type approach, talking about how each 'generation' (not to human scale, but to the scale that divines live at) grows up from maiden to mother to crone, how each romances her world, what tickles their fancies, what they look for good or bad.

You could go eldritch horror and have the world-tree of her home grow in, tentacle/root trapping and penetration, drawing out her essence as it pushes its own in to replace it. What comes out at the far end? How do both change?

You've got an incredibly rich set of imagery you can springboard off of, it really depends mostly on what you want to do. Do you want to embody a specific myth or mythos? Do you want to mangle one for some purpose? (And yes, boggling the readers' minds is certainly one potential purpose!) Do you have an idea for your own mythology?

You can do all that (from the last paragraph there) so clean a nun'd miss the potential kink to so filthy that self-same nun might jump in and yell, "YOLO!" :)
 
The classic pairing for an earth goddess is a sky god. So talk about the winds blowing, vibrating her tree-home and tickling her unexpectedly. Maybe talk about a water god or goddess trying to get her attention, and the threesome they experience in a giant storm - rain and wind, roaring as both stroke every bit they can reach while her foilage blows away and her core becomes visible to her would-be lovers.

Alternately, you could pull a Norns/Fates type approach, talking about how each 'generation' (not to human scale, but to the scale that divines live at) grows up from maiden to mother to crone, how each romances her world, what tickles their fancies, what they look for good or bad.

You could go eldritch horror and have the world-tree of her home grow in, tentacle/root trapping and penetration, drawing out her essence as it pushes its own in to replace it. What comes out at the far end? How do both change?

You've got an incredibly rich set of imagery you can springboard off of, it really depends mostly on what you want to do. Do you want to embody a specific myth or mythos? Do you want to mangle one for some purpose? (And yes, boggling the readers' minds is certainly one potential purpose!) Do you have an idea for your own mythology?

You can do all that (from the last paragraph there) so clean a nun'd miss the potential kink to so filthy that self-same nun might jump in and yell, "YOLO!" :)
I once read an oddly sweet romance between a cicada reborn as a dragon, and a magical tree that was determined to sacrifice herself to save the world. There were several scenes with the dragon drinking the nectar from her cleft and the wind moaning through her branches.
 
I once read an oddly sweet romance between a cicada reborn as a dragon, and a magical tree that was determined to sacrifice herself to save the world. There were several scenes with the dragon drinking the nectar from her cleft and the wind moaning through her branches.
I am totally over my head in this mysterious and mystical world but I think it’s called symbolism. But wtf do I know?
 
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