#any horseland pairing

[cerisia76]

Wanted to give all my rarepairs/crackships but 30 tags isn't enough

What is... a rarepair?

Rarepair refers to a rare pairing inside a fandom. This means that a pairing that someone ships does not have a lot of fanart or fanfiction about them or anything at all.

While crackships are always rarepairs, these rare pairings can make a lot of sense in canon, but they are just not that popular. But they often also refer to shipping characters that do not interact in canon at all, maybe not even know each other in the source material.

There are no exact numbers on when a pairing is considered a rarepair but some characteristics are that the tag on AO3 does not have a lot of hits and that most of the entries were written by the same person.

Shipping a rarepair can be frustrating, when you feel like you are alone in your love for a pairing, but it can also be fun to be able to shape the pairing together with two, three other shippers however you want them, because you basically own the ship by solely contributing to it.

[thechristmasof1997and2000]

dni if:

you add that “it is the nature of humanity to recreate homestuck” tweet to unrelated posts, you get more milk for your second bowl of cereal, you have a pair of slippers you wear around the house, you had a horse phase, you were a member in animal jam, you think hairless cats are ugly, you relate to edward elric, in any way, you don’t relate to alphonse elric in any way, you call yourself a dog person, you make fun of furries, you can cook a fried egg without messing up first, you look good in a tank top, and if you didn’t watch horseland as a child

[pirate-empress-story]

Introduction to Ethade

In the beginning, for this is typically where most tales begin, there was primordial chaos. Imagine, everything that ever was and ever will be, happening at once, all floating in the same space. All religions of the world can agree with this. It is this chaos that the oracles look in to for the fortunes of the important and insignificant alike. This chaos is what all magic is derived from, and what all magic eventually becomes. But this is the story of the creation of the world, of Ethade, and of the continents and peoples that are on it. After the chaos, came a force. To the nomadic peoples of the desert the sand goddess Ya’hamirah sifted her fingers through the chaos and created order, putting water to the west, ice to the north, rain to the south, rock to the east, and at the center was the basic building block for all life, sand. That is not the entire truth. Not to discredit an entire religion, for the goddess Ya’hamirah was there when order was made, she was not the one to do everything. All of the gods of Ethade were in attendance, but it was the dragons who oversaw everything. A dragon of water filled the oceans, a dragon of earth brought up the mountains, a dragon of air created the atmosphere, a dragon of fire sparked life.

When all was done each dragon retreated to their own place. While the other gods went about creating life and culture, the dragons rested and watched, providing guidance. The water dragon let the island he called his home be inhabited by the Ghillan, an aquatic race, for they were the only ones who could watch his sleeping place as the island rose to the surface of the ocean with the full moon, and fell to the bottom with the waxing moon. The Earth dragon made a home in a mountain, he allowed the subterranean race of goblins live among his twisting labyrinth of a home, and during the full moon the top of the mountain would blossom like a flower, letting in the light for a single night each lunar cycle. The Air dragon inhabited a floating island, that lazily orbits a tall mountain, once a place for only magical giant birds became a place for human society. The island is at the south of the mountain when the moon is at its fullest. The dragon of fire made a blistering volcano deep in a jungle his home. However, he became jealous, and he coveted his brothers, their homes could harbor life, but he had no beings to call upon or to guide. He left his home, and he rampaged the lands far and wide. There is a section of the great sand sea that is called The Glittering. The sand is forever melted into brilliant glass, unbuffered by sandstorms and the ravages of time because he had used his flaming rage against the people who once inhabited that land. The other three dragons fought with their brother, they imprisoned him deep in the deepest part of the ocean, until one day he could be calmed.

 The Starlian Archepelago is a fast series of islands with many years of scandal and history. Many of the denizens of the Isles are human. There are other races of note, however.

The strong minotaur race live on a handful of small islands, typically keeping to themselves, their culture holds knowledge above all else, and many live the life of a hermit in search for the answers to all the large questions of existence.

Helorians hale from the island of Helori, strange magic shrouds the island in darkness. Many great mages come from Helori, and their women are coveted for their Albino complexions and hair. What differentiates a Helorian from a human is the long pointed prehensile tail that sprouts from their back end, and the ethereal green shade of their eyes. Some people say that when you look into the eyes of a Helorian, they can see your soul.

Ghillan are a race of fish-like people, they have small internal lungs and external gills that outline their ribcage. Their iridescent scales can be any range of colors, from black to white, from red to blue, however orange and yellow Ghillan are not often seen, as this is a form of albinism in their species. They live almost exclusively on Khallli the drifting island of the water dragon.

Bisontaur, Bishonna in their own tongue, live in the plains and foothills of the Horselands.

Scaronyds are a race of seafaring people with large eyes and leather like skin. Their skin ranges from pale green to a deep black. Their eye color is typically blues and purples, but some have gray eyes. Scaronyds are a non-gendered race, and they mate for life. When they meet and successfully woo their mate, they decide on which will carry the children they have, as well as other roles. It is not uncommon for both people in each pair to carry at least one child. Their arms are longer than humans’s as well, their hands hang to their knees when they stand all the way up, but they take to crouching much more.

[sidrisa-blog]

Power and Magic

Read it here on AO3

Pairings: Loki x Reader and the lightest Sif X Thor

Chapter: 16/104 Wild Horses

Warnings: the usual: sex, death, and violence with light smatterings of misogynoir

Summary: The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo. This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it's time for more men and more blood. But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival. It is too bad they don't deserve it. There is nothing to recommend him, Loki, Prince of Asgard. He is rude and cold and childish. You try to find some merit in him. You find none. Exactly none. But maybe, after trial and tribulation,

You will.

You know this horse. You delivered him from his mother. You slept in the barn with him, was with him when he took his first shaky steps on new legs. He’s whip smart, all your people’s horses are, but he is exceptionally so. That’s why you named him Cephalus. “The Brain.” There was no finer animal in this world.

You’re in tears, no way to stop them, you started crying the moment you heard the neigh, knowing his cry anywhere. You thought he died with Hava but there he is standing--rearing-- before you, ready to bite this poor man’s hand off and call it a day.

“Cephalus!”

You break free from Niti, you don’t need her legs anymore, you’ve found yours. Cephalus hears you and stops his tantrum long enough for the Edvard fellow to grab his reins.

“Gotcha helbeast!”

Incensed, Cephalus bites the man’s wrist hard, bolting free of him the moment he’s released. He leaps over the low fence of the corral and gallops across the open field toward you.

Mistress!

Niti shrieks, assured you’ll be trampled into the grass but Cephalus rears high and comes to a stop inches from you, nudging you desperately with his nose.

No one understands you, joy’s knocked the sense and the common tongue right out of you. Cephalus whinnies, pressing as much of him against you as he can, speaking the horse language you don’t understand trying to make you feel how much he missed you.

And though you can’t comprehend him, you know.

“Princess!” Niti, swallowing her heart so it returns to her chest from her throat, approaches, extremely wary of the horse. “Seems like you two ’ve met before.”

Cephalus paws the dirt and nods his head, mimicking your own nod.

“This is my partner, Cephalus.”

“Partner? The Low Countries are more liberal than I thought.”

You and Cephalus fix Niti with the same glare. “Not like that! We don’t own horses. It’s a partnership, lifelong in most cases. Mutually beneficial. Losing a horse, especially a warhorse is like losing a limb. I was walking around missing the rest of my legs, and he’s been here the whole time. Tack and Bit, I am so glad to see you.”

You more mistress, these Asgard men are awful.

“Ladies!” A man, the one in the corral with Cephalus reaches for his reins and the horse submits, too close to his mistress to cause a ruckus. “Apologies for the wild horse, it’s a good thing you managed to stop him. I shudder to think what would have happened if he hadn’t!”

The man is kind faced, he gives his smiles away easily and pays for it with the lines etched into the ruddy skin around his eyes and mouth. His bright blue eyes are wide and searching, fearful one of you is hurt.

“Unhand him. He stopped because he wanted to.”

“Edvard!” Someone screams from the stable entrance, an older looking bearded man. “Don’t think this means you’ve gotten out of paying us!”

“I’ll get you your bloody money! HOLD ON!” He bellows, the red in his face deepening about the ears and cheeks. He’s soft bodied, no soldier, the build of a nobleman who’s done aught else but bet on things and argue about them.

“Apologies again Mistress…”

“Princess.” Niti corrects because she knows you really weren’t going to do it yourself.

Edvard mouths the word ‘princess’ shocked. “You’re the Princess! The Princess. The one from the horselands and this..”

“Is my comrade, let him go!”

He releases the reins immediately and Cephalus, glad to be free of him prances behind you and away from him.

“No wonder you tamed him, they say your people and horses are of a kind.“

“We are not sir. But he is my partner and friend. He knows my mind as much as I know his. Are you hurt?”

Edvard rubs his bitten wrist, there are indents of his teeth but the skin remains unbroken. “Oh no your highness, he stopped before any real damage…”

Your start inspecting Cephalus, making clear your question was for the horse. He looks good, shiny coat, glossy mane.

“They feed you? Run you?”

Cephalus nickers softly.

“Good. Good.” You pat the horse's neck reaching for your pocket of sweets you forget isn't there anymore. Cephalus enjoys chewing on the anise candies your old stablemaster made. He said he never groomed a steed who didn't like them. Tomorrow you'll venture to the kitchens and ask if they can make something similar. But for now…

“Princess, if you would, I have to return the horse to the stables before they notice he's missing.”

“You will not! He is in my care now as is proper.”

You grin, and Niti knows your thoughts before you utter them.

“Princess! Don't! You're not ready!”

You toss an imperious grin at Niti.

“Thank you, sir, for saddling him for me.”

It’s not as difficult for you as you thought it'd be. Leg in one stirrup, lift, swing, and your whole again. Where you belong, snug in the saddle of your comrade.

“Princess! You're in a damn dress. Don't!” Niti curses, helpless to stop you from the ground.

He knows to run, you don't make a sound, you don't suck your teeth or squeeze your legs or shout Volé-- the command to fly. He simply takes off on his own.

Wind tangles in your hair and stings your eyes closed. Cephalus is your eyes now and you trust his better than your own. The creeping ache in your legs melts away, displaced by wind burn as your dress hikes high revealing bare skin. You're likely indecent but you dare a man to catch you to see. You can out run lighting and best a Valkyrie on the wing. You are faster than sound and you know this because you never hear your scream of joy losing it somewhere in Cephalus’s trail of dust.

You fly, wingless. You release the reins, bold enough spread your arms out, the air whipping over and under affecting the sensation of flight. You stay grounded though, holding on with skill, talent, and more luck than there is strength in your legs.

Cephalus warns you, you feel his muscles shift and stretch, preparation for a jump. You take the reins in hand again and you urge him on as he clears a hedge, forquarters clipping the greenery spraying leaves in your face.

You just laugh and Cephalus laughs with you.

Cephy is a brilliant steed, even your mother agreed. He was not her gift, warhorses cannot be gifted. They are chosen before birth, bloodlines researched in the annals of meticulously maintained and updated genealogies. You chose his mother, the Sages chose his sire, and together they crafted a horse to rival Crimson Rabbit, the God of Horses in your land.

“He runs over 1000 miles without stopping,” the Sage told her, reciting the old mythologies. “He can leap rivers and cross mountains as though running on nothing more than rolling grass. He is dangerous riderless, and deadly when coupled with a doughty warrior and you Princess, have seemed to have birthed his son.”

How far away is home? How many crossed mountains or leapt rivers would it take to get there? You feel like you could run all the way home like this. Cephalus has read your heart in the way only he could and made its desire his command.

Take her home.

You see it in your head, clear as diamond crystal. Charging in on Cephalus, in your Captain’s armor, your mother’s Crescent Halberd in your hand. You challenge the King and his Princess, you defend what’s yours and take it back with bloody hands. The people sing and cheer, overjoyed you’re home. You’re home. Se’risa is with you and you are home.

But you’re not in armor, you’re wearing a dress. You don’t have your mother’s halberd, it was lost on the battlefield. And as you are, you can’t manage to keep a simple dagger much less fight for a kingdom back. Cephalus knows none of these things, that you have no home.

“Cephy hee!”

The horse slows up, canters into a stop. You pat his neck. “Well done, Cephy. Well done.”

Then you look around and have no idea where you are.

It's a green field, no natural markers to place you, you can't even see the palace anymore. Cephy faces west, into the setting sun, but getting back won't be as easy as turning him around and running full tilt the way the you came. You jumped rivers, cut through a copse of trees, bore east down a gentle slope, and stopped here with no way of knowing which way is back.

Shit.

The sun is westerly and sinking fast. You have an hour of daylight left and there are heavy grey clouds borne aloft by quickly cooling winds from the south.

Shit.

You're in a dress made for spring days, not winter nights. No one knows where you are or would even assume you’re missing. You are a princess, dressed and jeweled like one and there might be bandits in these hills.

Shit.

Another thing you need to know about me: I will 100% take the opportunity to make a reference to Cowboy Bebop. I’m not sorry.