HugQueen

Stephany loves you.

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152 deviations

Literature

Sacrifices

"It's good to hear your voice, Juliana." "Feeling isn't quite mutual." I could feel him shift uncomfortably, but he didn't face me. My shadow loomed over him as I walked towards the dresser. I was glad I had hacked into the sensors and lights before even coming inside. He wouldn't have wanted to see my face, or what was left of it. "He looks nice in this vid, if a bit scruffy," I paused as the soft hum of the electronics inside the vid-frame lit up the screen, playing a video of Richard and his husband someplace warm. "You both look happy," it felt heavy in my hand as I turned it over, "Recent?" "Uh, yeah? Month or so ago?" his voice tra

Featured

14 deviations

Prose

83 deviations

Literature

But when is a god satisfied?

There is a whisper of a god beneath my bones aching, ancient hands grasping to birth itself from my wreckage. I jostle it back between the horrors tucked under my heart. 'Perhaps this is what it means to have a body?' Its voice hoarse from years of neglect, When I tell it 'no' I hear nothing. The muffled groans of a god are not silenced so easily. 'I must find my body, you must give me what is mine.' 'I will give you nothing.' 'Not yet,' it hisses, mauling the forgotten pieces of me: abuse and fury, slick on its tongue. Soon I shake with rage, curses sprouting from runaway lips: 'I will give you nothing more.' It is then, I decide to r

Poetry

56 deviations

Literature

Contact Light

There is a shiver along my circuitry when he comes in to check on me. I hear my gears whirr faster, but only for a moment, before my system re-adjusts their speed. I watch him from the corner of my eye, the task before me boring, monotonous, while he is exciting, lively. Lively. I run the word through my processor, its meaning sparking along my wires, slithering between my circuit board. He stops in front of me, glasses falling against the bridge of his nose. He scribbles something on the clipboard he is holding and I watch as the ligaments and muscles flex in his arm. I rotate my vision down to my own arms, similar in design, but slimmer, m

Collaborations

21 deviations

For you.

51 deviations

Pixels and Other

21 deviations

Literature

Glimpses Through Windows

"What's it like to snake your fingers through gravity and rope the Earth's water with it?" I wondered, if for a moment, he would actually listen if I gave him an answer. "What's it like to breathe?" I asked, and though I knew he couldn't really hear my question, I wondered what he'd think if he knew who I really was. If he could actually understand me. The conversation was taking eons because I would stop and sprinkle stardust on the grass; waiting for the sun to peer from behind me. He held his breath, but I can't feel the oxygen settling in his chest. I can't. I can't. "You're not very good at this, are you." It wasn't a question

Planetarium

4 deviations

Scraps

109 deviations

Sacrifices by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Sacrifices

Of All the Places in the Universe by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Of All the Places in the Universe

She was a button girl. Thirteen and already too old to be beautiful with grimy cheekbones accented by listless, golden-gray hair. She spent her time trying to sell her collection, dozens of buttons lined neatly in a haggard box. The large one with tiny flowers etched into them, a plain navy one, and the bright pink button were her favorites. They were the ones she hoped would find a home in some little girl's cherished dress or a mother's apron. With her coat straining around her, eyes crowded with years of cold and unease, she held out her box to a passerby. Buttons flashed in the muted light, but the man scoffed as he continued past her. S

Get In Losers, We're Going Viking by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Get In Losers, We're Going Viking

The ships always instilled fear into those who saw them. When minuscule sails dotted your shoreline it was too late. They had begun their battle. The banshee call that emanated from their decks could send the most hardened warrior sobbing to his mother, praying that he could hide far enough inland. Some people braved the coasts regardless. Stupidity, dumb luck, bravery, perhaps all of them, contributed to the people's resistance to the ship's whims. After all, they were only gangs of teeny boats going viking, right? Teeny boats with blood lust and an intense rivalry. Mother had told me to come home if I saw the sails on the horizon and that

Who will perform the autopsy? by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Who will perform the autopsy?

There is a forest painted in scorching red, fire blooming beneath its dirt-caked skin, smoke skimming leaves as plumes of flame snicker behind the tail of a doe. Coals coating tree-trunks, hungry for life, it devours the same way they ravaged her when she said 'no'. Bright eyes morph into murkiness as the inferno marches. When rust washed down her throat, she did not scream, only begged for them to stop. They do. Beneath the ash, they find her body.

Jin by HugQueen, literature

I Ship Us by HugQueen, literature

Literature

I Ship Us

I can not measure our love in words, but in how tight we hug when we finally see each other again. There is starshine in your smile and I could swear that you are Aurora, wreathed in beauty, but with less sleeping and more ass-kicking. You are kind and selfless, a true paragon of love and a goddess of all things good. where most have blood, you have eternal love. all the light in the world is simply not enough to express the light your friendship and love bring to me. Passion and excitement exude from everything that you do and you pour your heart into; everything you make, everything you touch. When we first met, there wasn't a doubt in

Now Breathe by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Now Breathe

There are no constellations mapped across my skin and I am not a galaxy waiting for you to explore. There are no nebulae sprouting from my lungs and there is no stardust scattered in my veins. I am more than that, I am more than molecules that have re-arranged themselves into the vastness of the universe. I do not need you to tell me that I wear a circlet of comets because I am beautiful and because my gravity attracts celestial objects. I need you to tell me to breathe, to remember that each breath is a small start to hope. My own lungs implore me, keep breathing, keep going. You are worthy, you are worthy. I would not house life if you wer

You Were Not An Aquarium Boy by HugQueen, literature

Literature

You Were Not An Aquarium Boy

Sea-glass became your bones, brine your blood, and seashells melded into your skin. You were not quite an ocean when you said "This is your sign to love me." My body was like a building; tall, cold, almost unbreakable. I was metallic and sharp, towering over your waters. I remember taking your hand in mine, conch and coral shells scrubbing my skyscraper wrists, and laughing about how one day you would submerge every last bit of me. Your lips, riddled with argonauts, found my cheek and I cringed at the coarseness. You asked if they bothered me and I finally told you "I think I love you."

Empyrean by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Empyrean

Momma said to never marry an astronaut, they will always prefer the twinkling starlight to the light in your eyes. They'll only end up in ships that float aimlessly in zero gravity and you will not be there. Momma said to never marry an astronaut. You will stand firmly on the earth, clutching the ground and knowing they will always prefer the twinkling starlight. Planets will fracture and stars will collapse long before he recognizes he can travel to the light in your eyes.

Sorrowbird by HugQueen, literature

Literature

Sorrowbird

I watched him flap helplessly between the teeth of a barbwire fence, screeching for help. "Papa, look Papa! A boy!" My papa stood dazed for a moment, dust billowing at his legs, his eyes teetering along the field. It wasn't until later that evening he told me he hadn't understood what I had seen. What he had seen. With grass tickling the backsides of my legs, I bounded toward the boy, "What are you doing? Are you okay?" As I approached him, I felt his skittish eyes rake across my every movement. With his ten-year-old arms slung inside the gaping maw of a fence and darkened feathers pasted along the creases of his face; he looked squarely

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