Muse

i am not so much a soldier -- copyrighted by me

2008-07-11T21:16:12Z

to compare this poem with the one posted just before. this is to cory, who hurt me enough to write another poem that was like the one about jackie [my silence].

i am not so much a soldier

these words cut like barbs
asking the question if i should defend or run away
but i am not so much a soldier

so cowering in the face of everything and anything
i lie here awake and afraid
timidly typing out words i can't speak aloud

and the scars on my soul
now have new cuts to match dug in deep and jagged
marked again without choice

i stand accused and convicted of crimes i did not commit
bent low with shame and tears
judge and jury only one person, giving me no trial

i bare my soul to only few
terrified of being judged, hurt and hated
and here it goes again

so why do these words fall from your mouth and fingers
words i never expect from you
is it easier to say i was wrong than to say you're sorry?

i admit i said things i regret
in anger yelling and calling you things like idiot
but you take no responsibility

your words stand offensive and painful to those about you
yet you claim 'semantics'
can you not see how these semantics cause me pain

i may be sensitive
but at least i know not to hurt those who care about me
maybe you don't care

and so i have to end this even if i still want to forgive you
because i still care
but i care enough about myself to not let me be hurt again

so i am not so much a soldier
but i am a lover, a healer, a listener and above all, a friend
except not for you anymore

-zan

my silence - copyrighted

2008-07-11T21:12:57Z

So this is old, about four years, but i thought I'd compare this poem with the one that follows. Four years and the same situations still cause the same pain.

my silence

i am silent, eerily silent
yet i am screaming deep within me
my soul is screetching a sound so wretched,
the devil rejoices in it’s voice
as my soul screams
my heart weeps
crying an ugly jagged noise
and when the Angels hear it
They break
and though these sounds,
these terrible sounds,
come from within me
i show nothing,
NOTHING on the outside
for i can no longer feel it
i do not let myself feel it
i just let myself be used
like a doormat
something that says:
“Welcome,
come wipe Your feet on my face”
because a part of me has given up
i walk numb through my life
Feeling, Showing nothing
so i can no longer hurt
so i can no longer let myself be hurt
for feeling nothing is better
better than the pain and hurt i feel
better than the betrayal and heartbreak i feel
yet somewhere within me
Something argues
it tells me that if i cannot hurt,
i cannot live
for life has it’s pain,
however long it may stay,
but if you cannot feel pain,
you cannot feel the joy life has
and with that idea,
the numbness disappears
and everything crashes down
so when my soul screams that wretched scream,
You can hear me screaming along
and when my heart cries
You can hear my ugly jagged sobs
for i am not a doormat,
though welcome is what i say
I say
just as I say that I shall Live
and Feel and Cry and Scream
and when you treat me like that
like I have no Life that is worth to Live
I will stop you
for you can no longer wipe your feet on My face
so instead of screaming within Me,
I will scream at you
I’m no longer silent.

-zan

Unfinished Poem Drabbles: Still Copyrighted

2008-03-09T06:52:34Z

Close your eyes again
Can you see me there?
Burned and Broken
Watching you sleep
Praying for redemption
Working towards revenge
And there's blood on these hands
From holding myself together
After you ripped me apart

**Too emo? Too morbid? Too me?**

It's a crash course in love
That'll end in sparks
Crashed into a brick wall
We're speeding on a dead end road
This joy ride may be short
But I'm sure the explosion will be worth it
When it lights up the sky

**Waaaaay to many car references. Awful. Facepalm.**

I never promised to be this way forever
All we had was never something to believe in

**Too...i dunno.**

Seperate the seven layers of yourself
Mark it deep, with ink and metal and blood
Reflect the soul-deep scars
Push forth the hidden identity
Permanent marks of different kinds
A rebellion, an anguish; alternating reasons
If only to prove you're alive.

**Tattoos and cutting. Emo/punk. Fuck. Bleck**

Eyes glance from across the room
I can see what you need
Peering over the side of my glass
Your slow smile curves and curls
Off your hand to mine
Money changing palm to palm
And watching my hips as I walk upstairs
For one night I'm yours
This smile's just for you
I'll do whatever you want me to
Pretend I'm her, pretend I'm him
It doesn't matter to me at all
Strip off my shirt
Shimmy out of my pants
One hundred percent guareenteed seduction
I'm worth every penny
Push me into the bed
Mark me as yours, bite hard and true
Grin as you make me bleed
Make me feel this in my muscles tomorrow
Dirty this bed, dirty my body, dirty my soul
Use me.

**Fuck, this started out as lyrics that were supposed to be about treating/prostitution in the 1920's....somehow got so much dirtier than that...**

Massive Poetry Post [10/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T06:08:22Z

Untitled

Press it deeper
Feel the shame
Escape the truth
Embrace the pain
Let it out
Keep it in
Feel the heat
The cold within
Drop of head
Arch of wrist
The press of hate
A cold love's kiss
A wet aftermath
Face, hands and arms
Left whole and broken
In this ritual of self harm

Massive Poetry Post [9/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T06:05:20Z

Has It Made All The Difference?
A response to Robert Frost

I sit here by myself,
Singing for nobody
Fingers playing fragile notes
That linger in the air
Sparkling like dust specks
But I hear nothing
Just the screaming silence
My own thoughts and hopes
Lay bound and gagged

I stop to wonder for awhile
What it is to be happy
To be this cheerful thing
Eyes bright and lips pulled tight
Like a monster with a smile
The monster is happy
Twisting a grin with too many teeth
But what about me?

The skies are grey
Wind curls around me
It’s this feeling that holds me
I smile as the rain beats down.
Ironic, but I’m happy
I get it now
Why he pressed those words to paper
A dark etching on this broken mirror
And I hold tight to words he speaks

I travel on alone,
This path he spoke of
Solitary, yes, that is me
So I’ll continue to walk down this deserted road
Where no one else dare tread
Even though,
I have nowhere to go

Massive Poetry Post [8/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T06:04:08Z

In My Basement, Behind Locked Doors

Burning as cold metal meets flesh
Parting skin from muscle and blood from vein
The blade comes out when I have problems

Slicing to force a sting so sharp
Prancing its way between sinew, tendon, nerve
The blade works to solve my problems

Singing a song of pain exquisite
Biting deep in new exposed red coloured bone
The blade ends all my problems

**Fuck. >.< Emo Emo Emo Emo Emo. Sorry. I suppose I'm somewhere between emo and punk anyway, but that doesn't mean i have to write crap like this...**

Massive Poetry Post [7/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T06:02:13Z

Unknown Error: Please Restart Now

Backspace, I'm a mistake. Kiss me quick because I'm sinking fast. A combination of wrongs and maybes and once-upon-a-nevers, I'm a contradiction of terms you never want to read. Run now and far, for I'm not worth the gum on the bottom of your shoe. I'm an ambiguity. A nothing. A lie. I'm no better than those who claim to love you. Treading water, I can't stay afloat. Undertows suck me in. Let me fall baby, let me fall.

Flying, we were angels, but I've cut my wings. Black and red and blood, blood, blood. Whirlwinds and waves break over me with ridiculous un-passion, glass ornaments against hard floors have nothing on me. Burn away, I can't feel the flame. Sweetie, I'm a freak and I can't help but let people stare. Bite me: teeth, skin and pain. There are all these building blocks, so knock me over. I'm an alarming dichotomy.

I'm all wrong sugar. Angles, corners, natural sharpness. Stab me for nothing comes out. Buckets, I'm emptier. Clasp my hand one last time, feel the shade of death, kiss cold lips again. Corpse doesn't mean coffin, death doesn't mean I'm refusing to stay. Water and salt marks worse than pens. I'm a broken doll, forgotten leftovers. Kill me quickly, it's wrong to keep the vultures waiting. Pick, pick at my soul. Wave goodbye, this is an awful conclusion.

Massive Poetry Post [6/10] CoPyRiGhTeD

2008-03-09T05:59:00Z

Don't Dissect A Rainbow

How many times will you break my spirit?
            It's not my fault nobody likes you.
            Look at me, scorn in your eyes.

How many times will you make me cry?
            I meant it to be funny, stop being such a girl.
            Let your lips form another sneer.

How many times will your words cut deep?
            It's complete crap, nobody likes it.
            Stand up and look down at me again.

How many times will you not care?
            Go ahead, kill yourself.
            Step forward, step forward, be aggressive.

How many times will I let you?
            Per sempre e mai.
            All I ever did was love you.

Per sempre e mai: Forever and ever. Or Forever and never.

**Fuck, I hope I got the italian right for this.

Massive Poetry Post [5/10] Copyrighted!

2008-03-09T05:57:42Z

I Am Leg Numb

I am leg numb. Pins and needles. Sharp, oh so sharp. Bite and bit and broken and blood. Fight me now please. I thank you for this, this bone deep ache. Almost a burn, a flare, a spark. Strike them stones together. Or be alone. Just oneness. Singularity. A thought on the whisp of an idea. So think about it next time. Because there won't be another. Places change and so do people. People live and die and cry and leave. And they never come back. I don't wait though. Give up on hope, let yourself go numb. I am leg numb.

Massive Poetry Post [4/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T05:56:55Z

Hurt, Anger, and Desperation

There's a monster who embraces me
And I desperately wish I could let go.

There's a demon who caresses me
And I desperately wish I could flinch away.

There's a siren who sings to me
And I desperately wish I could stop listening.

There's a weeping girl inside of me
Who desperately wonders "What have I done?"

Massive Poetry Post [3/10] Copyrighted

2008-03-09T05:55:45Z

Trio of Lies

Lie Number One

i call me a Liar, it's who i am
a Liar is all i can be, all i choose to be
i will lie my way into your Pants, just to get you out of them
lies On top of lies, not one like the last
please don't believe me, the girl who cried Fire

Lie Number Two

Let me spin and spin
Turning one thing into another
Change it into something shiny
A distracting garment
Alter it, fit it
Make it into something else
Wrap you in it
Tight, so tight
Wear only what I give you
See only what I make
And you will be another
Who falls victim to my lies

Lie Number Three

I am only a liar,
The best you've even met,
Don't trust me, don't think of it.
Don't believe me, I speak falsehoods
Like a Politian or criminal.
Regret, guilt, shame
Are things I cannot feel.
I'm only a liar,
The worst one at that.

Massive Poetry Post [2/10] As Always, Copyrighted

2008-03-09T05:54:50Z

No Amount of Asprin Could Cure This

It's a pressure and a push
Up and out and needing to escape.
So enclosed
So alone
So very very repressed
Begging for freedom
Pounding to be let out
Making everything tense and sharp
It's deadly and satisfying
To see the end
To feel it pulse and bleed
To just wait-/wait/-for the explosion
A pain that will never end
An ending that will never come

Massive Poetry Post [1/10] All Copyrighted

2008-03-09T05:51:49Z

Haikus for Toast

[1]

Toast you own my soul
I eat you every morning
With butter or jam.

[2]

Despite all warnings
My knife goes in the toaster
To save my one love

[3]

Warm against my hand
And a brilliant shade of brown
A tasty breakfast

Copyrighted

2007-11-08T20:06:05Z

Something I wrote out in five minutes for my Advanced Poetry class.

Disney Lies

Once upon a time
A cursed princess pricked her finger and never awoke.

Once upon a time
The daughter of a sultan was forced to marry a mad man.

Once upon a time
A young girl wept as she never made it to the ball.

Once upon a time
A mermaid wished to walk but was confined to the sea.

Once upon a time
A pale woman was killed by a henchman of her stepmother.

Once upon a time
A violent narcassist raped a beautiful bookworm.

And they all lived unhappily ever after.

Once upon a time
He tried to push too far.

Not everyone finds their Prince Charming.

Copyrighted

2007-10-23T06:27:31Z

So this was written as sort of an address/ode in prose poem form to Bob Bryar[about his being amazing/stupid and getting his leg melted off]. Because I didn't know what else to write for my damn poetry class and I had a few bits and pieces started of this.

Famous Last Words

What it must be like to have your passion. To want something so badly you'll face death for it. To give up blood and skin and muscle for perfection. Yet to show no pain, to get up and walk away like you haven't been mauled by the fury of the fire.

Dedication at it's finest. That you would risk life and limb for something that is nothing but everything to you. To laugh and curse and move like you're not affected. Like help isn't needed. And attempting to leave this ward, to escape so that none could be disappointed, even as the infection tracks it's way to your brain. Though no one would, could, be disappointed in someone like you.

Your happiness in it's perfection, in it's rightness, is unreal. A smile like no other gracing habitually somber features. It's easy to realize your joy in it's faultlessness. To see how this is bigger than you and me and everyone. To understand why you'd give your everything to see this one thing complete. Because this could mean life or death. For you, for me, for anyone.

[[Not entirely happy with it yet, but I like it enough to read it in front of fucking class. Let's hope nobody knows who I'm writing about because otherwise that may be a bit disconcerting.]]

Copyrighted!

2007-10-18T14:06:37Z

New poem for class. I particularly like this one.

Casual Affairs and Star Crossed Love Only Happens In Shakespeare

It's all too confusing.
It's all too wounding.
The way I live my life from day to day.

How simple is routine.
How simple is faking.
Moving seventeen muscles to smile a lie in place.

Clearly I'm falling apart.
Clearly I no longer care.
But why should I when nothing matters.

Why is it easier to hurt?
Why is it easier to break?
Love is truth and light and beauty but denial is easy.

Amazing how depression kills.
Amazing how pain feels.
Mutilated hearts and torn souls never mend.

I can feel my heart slowing.
I can feel my fingers numbing.
What’s surprising is how I can’t feel pain or regret or hurt.

I don’t know why they gather me up.
I don’t know why they hold my body close.
A touch once longed for, before they shattered me.

It's a lie when they say I'll be okay.
It's a lie when they say life is worth it.
What do I have to live for when they took it from me?

This damaged spirit has nothing left.
This damaged body has no life.
I have no reason to live to see another day die.

They always told me I would die.
They were wrong when they said they wouldn't care.

Beta List for SafeHavenSlash

2007-09-24T01:27:06Z

Beta List:

Annie email: anniebean@livejournal.com Awesome with grammar and spelling!!

Zan [onlylirael] email: zanmoran@gmail.com AIM zanmoran Good with storyline and grammar

Alex email: lareau135@hotmail.com Good with grammar and basic plot stuff

Sarah [mrdouchebag] email: robotzz@hotmail.com AIM seventhreetoo HERE FOR ALL YOUR BETA-ING NEEDS!

Liane [spilledxperfume] email: websgirl@gmail.com AIM thehardestpartx Grammer and Spelling Genius.

New One, Copyrighted Per Usual

2007-09-17T05:43:19Z

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Who Who did this
They asked
Tell us
They said

Doll in hand
Did he touch you
Where Where
Show us on dolly
Point Point Point
Point they said

Bring in mommy
Have her ask
Sweetie tell them
tell them sweetie
They're good men

Good men
Men who shake their heads
and mutter mutter
Such a shame
Such a sweet girl
Sick bastard
Shake Shake
Sweet little girl

Whisper Whisper
Answer Answer

"Do you know the muffin man?"

***Yeah, so I wrote this with the nursery rhyme in mind. Basically I was wondering why these kids knew the muffin man and what if he was creepy. Plus I'm trying out different styles of poetry. People in my poetry class were a bit creeped out by it. Oh well. Then again, it's about a little girl (boy?) getting raped then (sort of) interrogated by the police. Not exactly happy rainbow sunshine.

A CROSS BETWEEN A STALKER AND MY AUNT LAURA, ALL CHAPTERS

2007-08-25T18:38:36Z

Title: A Cross Between A Stalker And My Aunt Laura: Chapter Fifteen, The Last Chapter
Author: onlylirael aka zanmoran Me, Zander J. Moran.
Pairing: Bonk, Bonkie [Frank/Bob]
Rating: R for swearing, slight violence, sexual ideas, mentions of sex, sexish stuff, and actual sex. It's dirtier sex too, not so light and fluffyish.
POV: Bob, then Frank
Summary: Sadly, it's the end. We have a cute but evil Frankie and a sweet, hot Bobby.
Disclaimer: I do not own them. But damned if I didn't wish I did.
Author Notes: Cross-posted, because whitechinadoll told me to. Also, I love all the comments. They rock my world.
Dedications: This is to everyone and anyone who took the time to give me feedback on this fic. Being my first one, I was nervous and unsure. I'm so glad you loved this and told me what made you laugh, shoot your drink out of your nose, or just giggle until your parents woke up. I hope that you like the sequel as much as this one.
Warnings: This fic is funny. So be careful, I don't need any of my readers getting hurt or anything, as people have fallen off of things and have had their drinks shoot out of their noses. BE CAREFUL, I NEED YOU ALIVE, ALIVE. Also fluff, lots and lots of fluff.

Previous Chapters:
1: I Have No Idea How To Do This...
2: Sir Galahad Is Hot
3: WHY WITH THE THIGHS?
4: F.o.B.: Frank on Bob
5: If You Wanna Know If He Loves You So It's In His Kiss (That's Where It Is)
6: Periods Are Overrated: Or I'm Stealing That Insult
7: The Internet Isn't The Only Place To Find Porn
8: Personally, Ken Is Better Off Without Barbie
9: Happy Birthday To Me
10: Storks and Candybars
11: Coitus, Copulation, Fornication, Lovemaking, Relations, Reproduction, Fucking, HAVING ALL THE SEX!
12: Guess Who Has Virgin Ears?
13: HI MOMMY!
14: It's All Fun And Games Until Somebody Moans Like A Whore

[[Ahem, there is sex in this chapter. Just to let you know, cause if you don't want to read it, you ought to skip over it. Also, it's not fluffy sex, it's kinda raw, passionate sex. Well, at least to me. Because, let's face it, couples 'make love' but they also fuck. This is the fucking side of Bob and Frank's relationship. Also, we discover the dominant side of Frank. As always, Bob does whatever Frank wants. Which, while Bob isn't the one taking, still makes him the bitch. The sex doesn't show up for awhile, I just thought you needed a warning. I figured I couldn't end this story without at least one more Frank/Bob sex scene.]]

[[Bob's Point of View]]

"BOB! BOB! BOB!" Frank yells excitedly, skidding to a stop in front of me, "Lookie what shirt I'm going to wear on stage tonight!"

He has on his BOB IS LOVE shirt again and he looks extremely adorable.

"I want everyone to know you're mine." He tells me, giving me an idea. I grab the Sharpie Marker from my pocket.

"Turn around." I tell him, Frank gives me a curious look, but turns around. I quickly write on the back of his shirt with long, sure strokes. "Okay, I'm done."

"What does it say? What does it say?" Frank says, craning his head over his shoulder and turning in circles attempting to read the back of his shirt. When that doesn't work he trys looking over the other shoulder, turning in circles in the opposite direction. I can't help but laugh, even when I get a glare from Frank, the kind that means I'm going to pay later. He stops and turns the shirt around on his body, reading the back upside down. BOB LOVES FRANK.

Frank rights his shirt giving me a melty look. Maybe I'll be forgiven for the laughing.

"What shirt are you wearing?" Frank asks me. He shakes his head as I look down at the shirt I currently have on. "Nope. You're not wearing that. Nope, nope, nope."

After digging around in my suitcase Frank finds a white t-shirt. He grabs my shirt, pulling it off.

"Hey, I can dress myse-" I stop when I get another glare. I'd like to not be sleeping by myself tonight. Frank pulls the new shirt over my head and grabs the Sharpie from my hand, writing on the shirt.

"Stop moving Bob."

"I can't help it, it tickles." I say, twitching slightly.

"Stop moving or no sex." He looks up at my stunned face. "And I mean it."

I attempt to stay stock still. Hey, I have my needs and I need my Frank on a regular basis now. He's goddamned addicting. Frank spins me around, writing on my back. My shirt now reads FRANK IS TEH SEX. I grin and shake my head. I'm pretty certain my back reads FRANK LOVES BOB because I can feel the letters of love and my name being written. I feel Frank's lips on the back of my neck, his arms sliding around my waist.

"Love you Bobby." Frank nips at my ear, "But you're still going to pay for laughing." He skips off, most likely with an evil grin on his face.

Fuck.

----

Frank's wild tonight on stage. Well, he's usually pretty crazy, but he seems to be taking it to a whole new level. He's had his hoodie on all night and we've got one song left. Frank pulls off his hoodie and walks up to the microphone.

"Hi, just to let you know, Bob is very, very shexy. And the moment we're done with this song I'm going to drag him off to have hot butt sex in the shower. That is all." Frank turns around and winks at me, giving the entire crowd a good look at the back of his shirt. Ray is laughing his ass off at me, since I'm blushing despite the self-satisfied grin on my face.

Gee rolls his eyes, "Yeah, they've been fucking like rabbits. But we're not here to discuss Mr. and Mrs. Bob Bryar-"

"HEY!" Frank glares at Gee, throwing a pick at him, which he dodges. But he still gets hit by the drumstick I throw.

"OW! I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Iero-" Gee runs and hides behind Ray as my other drumstick and another pick flies at him.

"Okay, okay, we're not here to discuss Frank and Bob's love life, WE'RE HERE TO PLAY!"

The last song is fucking amazing, especially since Frank's chasing Gee around the stage every couple of stanzas or so. I think Gerard's scared of getting hit in the balls again. The moment the last chord is played, Frank drops his guitar. He runs towards me, launching himself over my bass drum and hitting me square in the chest. The force sends both of us backwards off my stool, landing to the sound of the fans' squeals.

"Hi Bobby." Frank grins down at me, shifting so he's straddling me.

"Hey Kitten." I say, before lifting my head up to kiss him. Frank grinds down on me, kissing back passionately.

"Maybe we'll save the hot butt sex in the shower for later and have the hot butt sex in the bed first." Frank says, getting off of me and pulling me up. He smirks and kisses me hard, making sure to grab my ass. I swear, I can feel the heat of the lights of 20,000 cameras going off at once. Frank pulls back, winking at the fans before dragging me off-stage.

[[Frank's Point of View]]

We weren't in our hotel room more than three seconds before I pounce on Bob, kissing him furiously as he falls back onto the bed. I rip his shirt off, letting my tongue drag down the center of his chest. Bob groans slightly, grabbing my face and pulling me up to kiss him. The kiss is all tongues and teeth and spit, rough and needy. I take his hands and pin them above his head lightly, since he won't move them. I bite at his lip ring, tugging slightly as I grind down on him.

I refuse to keep the same pace as I grind down onto him, going light and slow then speeding up and pushing down hard. Occasionally I stop all together, letting Bob groan and squirm under me.

"Stop being such a tease." He pants, his eyes a dark stormy blue with need.

"Nope." I say simply, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I'm going to make you moan and beg and only after I've decided you've suffered enough will I ride you for all I'm worth."

Bob moans at my words, bucking up against me. I press my hips down against his, enjoying every little bit of friction. Curling my tongue along the outside of his ear I add one last thing. "I'm going to let your hands go, but if you move them below your head I'm going to stop everything."

Bob nods his head slightly and I let go, my hands moving down his chest and stomach. I let my tongue follow the path my hands took, my fingers quickly stripping Bob of his pants and boxers. Nibbling along his thigh and I then press a kiss to the spot where Bob's thigh meets his body. I tease his cock, pressing feather light kisses along it, occasionally letting my tongue get involved.

"Frank, please Frank, just...ngh...something." Bob moans out. I stop to look up at him, his hands entangled in his own hair, eyes screwed shut and lip ring caught between his teeth. God that's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

Since he decided to beg so nicely, I decide to stop teasing. Slowly, I suck him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him as I swirl my tongue around his tip. Bob let's out a long, low moan as I suck gently. While he's distracted I decide to keep my hands busy, looking up at his face several seconds later as I slide a lubed finger in him. Bob's eyes open in shock, then slip shut, as he tugs on his own hair. His mouth wide as he gasps slightly. "Fuck Frank."

I smirk around him, adding a second finger and twisting them expertly, watching Bob writhe and whimper. His jaw clenches shut, Bob groaning through his teeth as I start humming while I bob my head.

"Mrgh...so good...Frank..." Bob pants, as he gets closer and closer with the combined assault of my fingers and my mouth. I pull off of him just before he hits his peak, his face twisting up under my torture. Bob's eyes open, connecting with mine as he lets out a needy whine. His hair is sticking up in all different directions from pulling on it and his lips are red and swollen from biting them. I shed my clothes, covering Bob with lube and positioning myself over him. Grabbing his shoulders for support, I lower myself down onto him, both of us moaning. I move on him slowly as I savor the feel of Bob inside of me. My lips seek out Bob's as I shift and attempt to get Bob to hit the right spot. Suddenly I feel hands on my hips as Bob grabs me and slams me onto him, thrusting into my prostate. It doesn't take long for Bob to come, the feeling of him exploding against my prostate sending me over the edge as well.

I collapse against Bob's chest, pressing small kisses everywhere I can reach without moving my head. Eventually I shift, pressing my lips to Bob's in a slow kiss, which turns into a slow make out session with wandering hands and heated touches.

"You still up for that hot shower sex?" I ask, smirking. Bob laughs, getting up. And I swear there is nothing better than chasing a naked Bob to the shower.

----

Later, when we're cuddled in the other bed, Bob starts chuckling to himself. I prop myself up on his chest, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Gee is going to kill us tomorrow. Him and Ray have the room next to us, the shower side.” Bob snickers.

I trail a finger down his chest, letting my lips work at the corner of his jaw. He mewls softly and I lift my head and smirk down at him. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint Gee and not keep him up all night.”

Bob grins deviously, which means I’ve been wearing off on him, and nods his head. “Yeah, we need to prove him right and fuck like rabbits.” I peck his lips, grinning back. Bob pulls me down for a deeper kiss, and I swear, hotel rooms are my favorite place in the world to be.

THE END
for now

[[So that’s the last chapter. I was so sad to end this, and I wasn’t quite sure about how to end it, so that’s why it’s taken so long for this chapter to be posted. I really, truly hope that you’ve enjoyed this.

The sequel to this chapter will be starting sometime in the next week, so keep an eye out for it. It’s tentatively titled As Straight As Ray’s Hair. We start out in Gee’s Point of View the day after Bob and Frank’s sexcapdes that happened in this chapter.

Also, the third chapter to my Dear Annie: I Am A Freak should be up within the next day or so.

Thank you so much to the following people:

Kay: For choosing the title, forcing me to write this, deciding it was going to be a Bob/Frank pairing even though it was started with Ray in mind, and for thinking everything I write is funny.

Emmy: For being an awesome beta, dealing with my writing these impossibly late at night so that she must stay up until I finish the chapter, and for my ripping on her love for Pete Wentz in my disclaimer every so often.

YOU: For reading, for commenting, for all the love. You people just own me and I owe you so much. I love you all.]]

zanmoran @ 2007-07-04T22:00:00

2007-07-05T03:53:33Z

Title: A Cross Between A Stalker and My Aunt Laura: Chapter One
Author: zanmoran aka onlylirael
Pairing: I'M NOT TELLING...yet.
Rating: PG-13 for nudity (But it's tasteful nudity, I swear!)
POV: Switches between characters.
Summary: Someone has issues with pillows, someone else hear's their mother's voice in their head.
Disclaimer: Did I mention that I'm Mrs. Bob Bryar?
Author Notes: First Fic Ever, please be kind.
Dedications: To the lovely Mrs. Kay Way for choosing the pairing and for being my loverly mentor.

[[Frank's Point of View]]

I didn't even bother to look in the mirror after I stepped out of the
shower. I just dropped my towel, pulled on some boxers and collapsed
on the hotel bed. Now my bandmates love it when we stop at hotels.
They hate the bunks in our tour bus. Now, I admit, the bunks aren't
the most wonderful thing, but I absolutely loathe hotel beds. The
comforters are scratchy, the sheets feel grimy no matter how "clean"
they look, and every (and I mean EVERY) hotel bed comes with that
weird fuzzy middle blanket.

But even that I can deal with. The pillows are what get me. Crappy,
crappy uncomfortable hotel pillows. That always smell musty, like the
last person who used it was some old guy who drooled a lot. Usually I
bring my own pillow into the hotel. But as luck would have it today,
I was so exhausted from the concert I forgot it. I sighed heavily,
since I happen to be laying on top of yet another scratchy comforter
with my face in an above mentioned musty old pillow. I'm just too
tired to move.

I sighed again as I heard the hotel room door open, meaning Bob had
finally gotten done growling at the tech who had dented his bass drum
earlier.

"Hey man, you forgot this on the bus."
And I felt something soft hit my back. MY PILLOW!

[[Bob's Point of View]]

I watched Frank sit up and look at his pillow in amazement before
grinning at me and snuggling tiredly into it. Shaking my head as I
walked into the bathroom, I slowly stripped off my clothes. He had
seemed so shocked. How could I not notice that he always brings his
pillow with him, we always seem to room together. Well it's because
both Gee and Ray snore, so they get to room together so we don't have
to put up with that. And Mikey gets his own room because, well, his
sleeping schedule is very very odd and he's really pissy in the
morning.

Oh face it Robert My lovely inner voice, that sounds oddly like my
mother **Note to self, see a theripist, this is not normal** said as
I stepped into the hot shower, That's not the reason you noticed and
you know it.

I can't help but noticed everything about Frank. How he acts like a
four-year-old at Christmas in the morning, how his favorite shirt is a
plain greenish-gray tee, how he loves to eat hummus and potato chip
sandwiches. (Plain Lay's Ruffle Potato Chips only.) I sighed and
shut off the shower.

I sniffed and pulled on what looked, and smelled, to be a clean
tee-shirt and boxers, but after touring for two months, who knows. I
smiled as I snuck out of the bathroom, careful not to wake Frank. He
was curled up around his pillow, making snuffly noises and twitching
in his sleep, like a puppy. He's just too cute. I grimaced. I sound
like a cross between a stalker and my Aunt Laura. Scary. I slipped
under the covers and closed my eyes, knowing I'd fall asleep quickly
to the noises Frank makes when he sleeps.

--------

I awoke to two honey brown coloured eyes staring at me, about six
inches from my own.

"BOB YOU'RE AWAKE!"

And with that, I was hugged tightly by an extremely hyper Frank.
Unfortunately for me, the hug ended as quickly as it started.

"Check out is in half-an-hour and Mikey has coffee, he'll bring it to
the bus he said, but who knows, he might drink it all before he gets
there." Frank said, grabbing his bag. He stopped before opening the
door, grinning widely at me, "Thanks for bringing me my pillow, I owe
you one."

I was still only half awake when he skipped out of the room, most of
my conciousness focused on his retreating butt. I shook myself out of
my girlish staring and began to get ready for another day.

[[Comment PLEASE? I need feedback, then I can write better next time...]]

COPYRIGHTED!

2007-06-25T22:50:52Z

So, yeah, I say that I don't do the whole rhymey thing, and I really don't usually like it either. But here's a rhymey sing-songy one because, well, because I can do it. And this one kinda ended up turning out like that....

Untitled
By Zander James Moran

Picture hanging on the wall

Reminds me of when I was small

In make-believe, pretend and play

Innocent, I’d spend the day

Wasn’t sad, nor suffered gloom

Was never locked inside my room

Never saw the pain outside

When concerned, the grown-ups lied

Eventually I grew out

Of make-believe and tuning out

And so I saw the world out there

And it seemed to me like no one cared

Oh picture why do you remind me?

Of days when I was small and happy.

AND THIS ONE IS COPYRIGHTED TOO!

2007-06-25T22:40:33Z

This is about the Celtic tale, Cad Goddeu. It's amazing, so read it for real.

Cad Goddeu

By Zander James Moran

Ni allaf ddweud ai gwir ydyw neu beidio,
Rwy'n adrodd y chwedl fel y clywais i hi. ¹

Ash, Oak

The trees fought for me

Maple and Birch

To protect my brother

Pine, Larch, Laurel

Uprooting themselves

Aspen and Rowan

Entering Annwn

Willow, Dogwood

Attacking it’s ruler

Thorny Plum and Beech

God of the Underworld

Alder, Cherry, Elm

Arawn “Bow Down”

Cedar and Chestnut

Amaethon has the Three

Fir, Hawthorne

And I, Gwydion, say

Linden, Spruce and Walnut

Thy name is Bran

Eaisht lesh dagh cleaysh eisht jean briwnys. ²

¹ I cannot tell how the truth may be,
I tell the tale as 'twas said to me.

² Listen with each ear, then render judgment.

THIS IS COPYRIGHTED, SO NO TAKEY!

2007-06-25T22:35:48Z

Yeah, so this poem is one of my favorites. It just kinda came, I never really edited it much or even rewrote it much, mostly because I really really like how it turned out on the first or so try. So if you don't like it, fuck you.

Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep A Gun In The House

By Zander James Moran

I’ll lay the blame where it belongs, and some of it belongs with me

I should have seen it coming, the look on your face

How you avoided my questions, avoided my gaze

The way you changed, no longer as vibrant as you once were

But the changes were slow, and so I never took notice

Wrapped up in a depression of my own, I never saw your tears

And you never attempted to talk to me, I know that much

Had you said something, I would have listened

And we could have worked through it together, helping each other

For we were in the same place, feeling the same pain

Did you think that you’d be better off this way?

That everyone would be happier? Because you were wrong.

I miss you. And with the pain of having you gone,

I feel guilt, because I wasn’t there for you like I should have been.

That perhaps I could have stopped you from your madness.

And now there is nothing I can do but cry. For you and me.

Because I am tempted also. To escape from the pain.

To take the easy way out. Though to me, it seems like the only way.

Just like you thought as you put that Smith and Wesson in your mouth.

And pulled the trigger. That this was the only way. The best way.

I feel the way you did. Still think the same thoughts.

So what makes us different? Why are you dead and I am still here?

I won’t think on this much longer, because I will see you soon.

For you had your gun, and me, I have my razor.

Copyrighted!!!!!!

2007-06-25T22:26:18Z

This is the poem I was talking about Kay.....yes I really do write about food a lot. And I love Juice. Except Prune....icky icky.

Address to My Breakfast
By Zander James Moran

The most important meal of the day

Especially to me

Ah breakfast!

Juice…grape, apple or orange

Quenching my thirst no matter the day

Eggs…scrambled, fried, or hard

So good, unless burnt

Like the toast that is so crispy

Seconds away from burning

Crunchy darkness.

Warm and tasty, why must you leave so soon?

Though you will be here tomorrow,

You will not be the same.

Tomorrow it may be milk

With poptarts and fruit

Or perhaps cereal

Or even a muffin

Always be true to me breakfast

And I will choose you over

Lunch and Dinner

Even brunches and midnight snacks

As I worship at your plate

I contemplate having you for dinner.

And It's Copyrighted TOO!

2007-06-22T06:12:32Z

So I haven't posted my poems in awhile. The pains of dial-up. So here's something rough and new for you all.

Dark Tinting Amongst the Brightness
By Zan Moran (Zander James Moran)

Fear tints my happiness.
I await the moment it leaves.
Always soon.
Always sudden.
For happiness was never meant for me.
So I live for these happy moments,
And fear for their end.
Because it is a violent ending.
Leaving me broken,
Sobbing at the bottom.
Hoping for it to come again,
Like grass in winter
Hopes for warmth.
Those few small happy times
Are precious to me
For they keep me living
When I feel like dying
This is why fear lives there
Tainting my happiness
Making it impure and wrong.
Never letting me fully expeirence
True genuine happy feelings.
But I will take this untrue feeling
Over nothing at all.
For dark tinted happiness
Is my only hope and salvation.