#honeycorn

[goat-shoe]

Get Back Up

Platonic(?) HoneyCorn drabble, 302 words.

Honeybee weaves across the roller rink like a salmon through a stream, fighting against the current for a chance to mate in the same pool it spawned in. Her twists flow and twirl behind her. She likes to call them leg warmers, though they suck at their job- they flutter in the breeze around her ankles. Her legs slide across the floor, knees twirling to the rhythm of the rink's music. Hits from the 80's: her favorites.

She rolls to halt at the edge of the rink, stopping with the toe of her skate.

Capricorn sits on the edge of the neon carpet, blue skates donned, perched nervously. (He's never skated before- maybe once as a child, only to fall and scrape his knee on the cul-de-sac's pavement.) 

He looks up at Honeybee.

Honeybee smiles. She holds out a hand to him.

It takes more effort to come to terms with how silly he'll look than it takes just to stand. Both hands grasp Honeybee's glove, squeezing as she helps him to his feet- which slip and slide in the skates along the waxed floor.

Honeybee laughs at him. "Ready to try again?"

Capricorn finds himself blushing, glancing to the floor, embarrassed. Honeybee pats his hands, glove soft and assuring.

"I'm not gonna let you fall this time," Honey promises.

Capricorn manages to push out a laugh, rolling his eyes. "No, I- Okay. I- I think I've got it this time."

Like nothing, Honeybee starts moving, rolling backwards. Still holding Capricorn's hands steady, guiding him to the whirlpool of skaters.

The song ends, and another begins, as Capricorn cautiously kicks her feet against the rink floor.

♫ Like a small boat on the ocean...

♪ Sending big waves into motion...

♫ Like how a single word...

♪ Can make a heart open...

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Kulan a springer spaniel by Honeycorn

[beeberryart]

more monsters/creatures!~ another candycorn, this one a honeycorn 😊 

[hanseoyeon18]

Yummy! 😋 #SeaweedCrisps #HoneyCorn #HappyTummy #Snacks #KoreanExperience

[midnightminx90]

i honestly dont know how much more i can take of my mom yelling at me to do more at home

"you knew we were going to do all this today," she says in an angry voice and i shout back that i cant just make up my mind to do all she asks, because thats not how this illness works

"you dont bother asking anyone else how they feel!" maybe i would if she cared about me, about my illness. maybe if she actually understood instead of claiming/pretending she does. maybe if i dont have to go around and fear her getting angry with me for every little thing i dont do. maybe if she stopped being passive agressive towards us - but mostly me. maybe if she stopped being mad at me and thrn using her normal voice at my siblings in the next breath. just because my sister's not mentallt ill. just because my brother's anxiety when it comes to death doesnt affect his every day life and how well his mind and body functions.

I took a long shower. Just stood under the spray and cried and tried to breathe. Now im on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet and im dizzy because ive barely eaten half a bowl of honeycorn and then went digging in the garden to put down bulbs for spring. and im scared to leave the bathroom because she'll only yell ar me again and i dont know how much more of this i can take

[goat-shoe]

THINKING SO HARD ABOUT HONEYCORN RN BECAUSE OF YOU OMG

owo ;;

capout will always be otp but i LOVE tragic yuri honeycorn <3 <3 i just feel they could make each other so happy but itd never last. oooo anon i need to write more secret identity fics.

[goat-shoe]

(sneak peek of Strike Out, chapter 7!!)

Growing up, they never understood what they were seeing, when tributes were paraded through the city streets. They just saw the costumes: shifting fabrics and jewels, crowns, antlers... They felt the energy of the crowd around them, the smiles of the announcers and hosts. The charisma of the tributes, endearing even through their occasional nervousness. Even in the capitol- a place oversaturated by neon hair, twisting eyelashes, structured gowns all in daily wear- there was something special to Capricorn about the parade, the games.

Everything changed when they turned 10.

It was the first time they watched the games for themself, the first time their parents didn't bother to make clever excuses for them to sit and play quietly. The violence. The brutality of it. Desperate and bloodied hands grasping at their murderers.

But the real monsters were those around Capricorn. Their father, their mother, their aunt. All who watched the games with mock sympathy and pity for the game's tributes... no, victims.

When Capricorn was 11, that year's games rolled on slowly past their glazed eyes. They stood hollow beside the street as tributes paraded by, which felt less like a celebration to their young, changing mind, and instead more like a conveyor belt of scraps of metal slowly being thrown into a big fire, only without the beauty of recycling.

They didn't understand. What did this do for Panem? It was... it was wrong.

As they grew older through their teen years, they didn't watch the games. They couldn't bring themself to witness the terrors the Capitol forced on innocents. What was the difference between Capricorn and any tribute? Nothing. They were all young, beautiful people. There was no reason Capricorn shouldn't be out there themself, no reason but where they were born.

They still watched the parades. The PR media storm before the games themselves. Capricorn wanted to know the people who would be sacrificed for the sake of entertainment and power.. He wanted to feel a connection to those he wept for. He wanted to hold them in his heart, right where the rest of the world would never keep them.

Capricorn was 17 when he took his first trip outside of the Capitol. He went out to district eight on a school trip, six months away from the games.

The class was there to learn about Panem's economy and the district's exports. Textiles were the productive focus of district eight. Capricorn couldn't hide their interest and affinity for textiles and design.

But still... He and his classmates would return safe and sound to their lavish homes, meanwhile two youths from this district would be killed for sport.

But shockingly, he knew the girl who would go on to survive that year. Met her, briefly. For just one moment. Capricorn was examining sample costumes and outfits on display, enamoured, when she approached him.

"Sorry- are you visiting from the Capitol?"

Capricorn turned. They looked the girl up and down. Dark skin speckled with freckles, her hair in long beautiful twists. She was dressed.. ambitiously, to say the least.

Capricorn's heart ached for her, as he had no idea... no reason to believe that she could survive the games by anything other than luck.

"I-I am," he stuttered. He held out a hand. "I'm Capricorn."

The girl lifted her brows, impressed by the fancy name seemingly. But she smiled, and she glowed like the innocent sun. She shook Capricorn's hand.

"Beatrice."

[goat-shoe]

drop the goathoney tea oomfie 😼✨💖

ok so... :x

first of all, goats dont even produce honey. goats produce milk and cashmere. obviously. but thats not the main issue with calling the ship "goathoney" (though it Also potentially spreads misinfo to impressionable minors and even children in the fandom) ://

no, the issue with the name is that "goathone" is, in the eyes of the algorithm (btw i read that the letter "y" is an incredibly low-priority character in google search results), too close to "g*me of thr*nes". this muddies search results, especially in the case of a misspelling or incidental misplaced space!

(anon if i have to spill the tea on g*t, a show rife with inc*st, mis*gyny, and r*cism, youre gonna have to block me.....)

as a final note: if you prefer "goathoney" to honeycorn, thats FINE, i guess. its just irresponsible to tag it that way, and dangerous to search it that way. i think that, at the very least, "honeygoat" is infinitely less irresponsible.

ty for the ask anon <3