alright, umm.. i sat down one night and just started writing little expansions for Stoking the Flame, which i rewrote in a different perspective.. all C&C is appreciated.. because when i first wrote it i was in love.. and now every time i look at it it gets worse and worse.. Fulfillment: A Life Well Lived by: P-R-P-Chan Spoon Fed Oblivion I don't think. Not in this blur. If you can fake it, it's better; for awhile. I can't even remember what it felt like. Being free. The same mistakes, running through my head over and over and over. Familiar faces floating in front of me, eyes bloated and staring, surprised by death. I've never felt so much alive. They say I'm learning to live, but I'll never be the same, everything is ruined. My perfect world; My husband, our dojo, our child. Just one more excuse to stay in this room, watching the television, being spoon fed oblivion. Because nothing is better than something. But sometimes I miss the pain, and that's when I cheat, pain never tasted better. There's always an easy way out, but not for me. Once a year, it's been three, I remember, love, hate and curse the name Ranma Saotome. Happy Birthday Fucker. Life Within a Life I got the results back today. I was right, things are different now. A child grows within me, an anchor to keep me at home, now I'll always be just Ranma Saotome's beautiful wife. A trophy, yet another one to add to his collection. I don't want it, I don't need it; and then, I feel it. It doesn't kick, way too early for that, but I know my body, and for just a split second I can feel it's life, It's chi, before we are joined once more. I take the short walk out to the dojo and watch my bare-chested husband dance through a kata I couldn't even attempt. As he stops, sweat glistening, and flashes me a smile, I want nothing more than to jump him right there, tear his clothes off and join our two lives, our two bodies. Instead, "Ranma. We need to talk." My Love and My Agony or Falling to Pieces I leisurely step out of my dress, a nice one I bought for this occasion. I should probably hang it up but there are more immediate needs. I step up to him, drag him into a long slow kiss, one I cut short, lowering his pants then pushing him back onto our bed. I'm too far along for aggressive rough sex, but we've found other things we can do. I slowly massage the head of his cock, searching for a belt we keep lying around with my other hand. I draw it tight around my lover's neck, until he's gasping for breath, whether from that or my thigh caressing his erect member I don't know. Still holding the belt tightly in my right hand, I give Ranma the greatest blowjob of his life. When I feel him squirm as I bring him too close to the edge, a short jerk stops him. Finally I let him find his release, taking it all in my mouth, he arches his back, I hold the belt tightly. The pulsating subsides, and that's when I notice his breathing has stopped, the belt having snapped his neck while he was in the throes of passion. I'm terrified, crying, guilt-ridden, and angry. I'm also in pain, extreme amounts of pain. I rush off to the bathroom screaming, and lose my last chance to be with Ranma to a porcelain bowl. Stoking the Flame It was countless, the number of friends I'd lost to my frequent rages. But it was only during those times that I was truly happy, the euphoria that came with the rage made the whole world seem okay, offsetting whatever I'd lost. The sheer power of the feeling, stronger than any drug, Ranma and I'd experimented with a couple near the end, more consuming than any orgasm, He'd given me plenty. Nothing felt as good as when I was in one of my rages, no junkie or nympho ever felt this kind of pull, addiction. My anger kept me warm inside and even after it had played out, I still felt the effects for hours afterwards, basking in it, holding onto the last dregs as long as possible, comforting me. Only one person had ever understood me, going out of his way to inspire my anger, but now, he was out of the way, as we took eroticism a step too far. The anger started building up, as I knew it would, for that I will always love him. Even his memory could get me off, but as before, now there were consequences for my actions. Permanent ones. With a cry of my mantra, 'Ranma no Baka', I swung my hammer downwards in a vicious arc, breaking my late husband's headstone, much like I had his neck. As the euphoria began to course through my body, I curled into a ball over my dead lover's grave, cradling the shattered headstone as I had our lifeless progeny. As I fell deeper into ecstasy, I kissed the soil I lay upon, the earth in which my husband was entered, silently mouthing an 'I Love You'. I stood and brushed myself off. Even though I missed his face, his hands caressing my breasts, his breasts, and most of all his anger; I never regretted his death, nor did I feel guilt; Ranma himself had always said he was only happy if I was. So I knew, no matter where he was, he was happy. Renewal I am dead, Akane the girl, Akane the tomboy, the kitchen destroyer; I am dead. I rest curled up to my spent husband's side, mourning my own passing. I wanted it, I always did. The white gown, all my friends and family, Ranma's other fiancees looking on jealously. That's what I wanted. When the time came, I overcame my fears, my anger, myself; and gave it all willingly. To him. I'm dead, but I'll survive. Long live Akane, the woman. end. TimeLine Renewal Life Within A Life My Life and My Agony or Falling to Pieces Spoon Fed Oblivion Stoking the Flame