We all have hot-button issues when it comes to fic, especially where our favorite characters are concerned, that's why topics such as "If you must desecrate my fandom" and the like exist here. Sometimes you feel like if you see ONE MORE FIC where A/B's True Love is tested by C the vamp or X has to become a distressed damsel for Y to care about them or Z dies and everyone mourns melodramatically, you're gonna explode. And yes, we can even wish writers who keep falling back on these cheap plot devices would get creative and do something else for a change.

But Cori takes it one step beyond. Not satisfied with simply hating death fic about Team Rocket, grumping about it and avoiding it like the plague, she needs to write a whole damn story about how those authors are wrong because her precious OTP will never be torn apart and they're big poopyheads for daring to write a story about such a horrifying idea!


Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you A Warm Place. We'll begin with the disclaimer because that alone is worth a goldmine of eyerolling and amusement.

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This piece is my response to all of those "Rocketshippy" death fics out there. It was originally a continuation of Memories of Tears by Mystic Vaporeon (because that's the one that upset me the most), but it didn't really make me feel better. So instead, I've changed it into a generic anti-death piece.

And here we come to the first major issue: She wrote this to get back at Mystic Vaporeon. Now, this fic isn't quite as offensive as the second fic she wrote to do so ("Forever", which aside from the disclaimer is unfortunately lost to the ages), but Mystic was still quite upset by this. Cori lambastes Mystic for "ignoring her" when she said she didn't like sad fics and claimed she was "forced" to read Memories Of Tears, but as far as I know Mystic DID listen and honestly thought it was a happy ending because of the reunited-in-heaven bit. How was she supposed to know Cori was THAT sensitive about bad things happening to Team Rocket?

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I don't know what's up with these kind of fics, but I have the sneaking suspicion that they were inspired by that God-awful Titanic movie.

She'd love the animated adaptation, then. *snorts*

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My question is, what the hell is supposed to be romantic about that?! The person you love dies, and you have to live your life without them?! That's not romantic -- it's just depressing! And why do so many Rocketshippers feel the need to put Jessie and James in a similar situation? Why do they think killing one of them and making the other go on alone is so Rocketshippy?! If you ask me, separating them like that is one of the most anti-shippy things imaginable! I'm sorry, but J, J & M don't deserve that -- fics where they die are just wrong!

Insert obligatory Poe and Shakespeare reference here. Seriously, though, can you imagine Cori reading Romeo and Juliet? "NO, NO, NO! They didn't die, they're soul mates! They have to live happily ever after! I'm going to write my own version of this that's the TRUE story because this icky horrible death fic that hack Shakespeare wrote sure isn't it!"

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Since I can't stand the thought of my fave characters being without each other, I wrote this fic to show that the idea of one of them dying is nothing more than the stuff of nightmares and that it'll NEVER really happen! A Warm Place, though still what I consider to be somewhat of a sad story, is, in the end, a life-affirming piece which shows that Jessie and James are going to be together forever, no matter what!

"Fear my almighty exclamation marks of TRUTH!"

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Jessie watched James for several minutes as he slept. He sounded congested, but his breathing was steady and rythmic. And he wasn't pale or emaciated like in her nightmare. It was, indeed, nothing more than a cold. So why did she still feel so uneasy?

Don't worry, Jessie, if you catch his cold it just means he has to wait on you hand and foot for the next few days. You'll love it!

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However, when they'd arrived at the cabin on the first night, James had seemed unusually tired, and he'd complained of a sore throat and a headache.

He's faking it, he just doesn't want to do the dishes.

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And then there was that nightmare she'd just had about his death. What did it mean? Was it just because she'd been worrying about him for the past few days, or was it some kind of evil omen? It had all seemed so real, and she remembered everything in vivid detail. More tears welled up in Jessie's eyes as she recalled the dream once more. Every image of James growing sicker with each passing day and finally expiring, of never getting to marry the man she loved or give birth to his children, of living her life without her soul-mate, was burned indelibly into her mind...and it was breaking her heart. Unable to bear the thoughts of the nightmare any longer, Jessie laid down on the couch and buried her face in the cushions as she continued to cry. In the dream, she'd eventually overcome the pain, but she honestly didn't know how she'd cope if she lost James in real life. In the kitchen, the kettle on the stove began to whistle, but Jessie didn't hear it. After a few minutes, the whistle became a scream, but she still paid it no mind. She was too wrapped up in her grief to even care anymore.

And in the span of several paragraphs, Jessie has officially become a wilting flower who cries at the drop of a hat and is too wrapped up in her grief over a damn dream to turn the kettle off before the stove catches fire.

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James wasn't dying -- he was just recovering from a cold! Still, the very sight of him reminded her of everything she'd seen in her nightmare, and she burst into tears again.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

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Jessie looked up at him again, and her lip quivered. "Oh, James, you were so sick...a-and you...you...I...."

"I don't wanna get your icky germs! Stop breathing on me!"

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Jessie slowly shook her head. "You don't want to know...and I don't want to talk about it. It's too horrible!" James tightened his hold on her hands. "Jessica, nothing is so horrible that you can't talk to me about it! Nothing!" he said firmly. She trembled.

Jessie: "T-they're going to run a marathon of the Garbage Pail Kids movie!"
James: "Nooooooo! I don't wanna hear anymore!"

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She shook her head. "No it isn't," she whimpered. "I can still see it, James! I can still see you dying in my arms! I can still see me and Meowth putting roses on your grave! I can still see myself going through all of your things...trying to remember you and live my life alone! Oh, God, James, I'm so afraid that it may really happen someday...and I just can't handle that! I can't...I can't...I can't...."

Gee, folks, you think Jessie's having some trouble facing the idea of James dying? *rolls eyes*

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"I love you," James told her. "And love is more powerful than death. Have faith in me, Jessie, and love will find a way to keep my promise...our promise."

Y'know, The Power Of Love can only go so far. And Death's got a scythe, remember?

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She'd been hurt by so much in the short time she'd been in this world -- the death of her mother, being forced into a line of work that she hated, the ex-boyfriend who'd convinced her that she was worthless...who'd beaten her up -- all she'd ever known was abuse, abandonment, and betrayal. The scars on her soul ran deep, and as James held her to him and felt the sleeve of his black t-shirt getting soaked by her tears, he knew that no matter how much he reassured her, it would be a long time before those scars healed.

Aand we have mention of Jessie's Tragick Past! I swear, Cori must've consulted a Sympathetic Sue handbook when coming up with it.

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If anything, Jessie wanted to be closer to James than ever, and as she looked up at him, the glimmer in his emerald eyes told her that he wanted the exact same thing. He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask permission. Jessie smiled and nodded in response. "Show me just how much stronger love is than death, James," she whispered. Slowly, James leaned into her, and as he slid the straps of her red nightgown off of her shoulders, he began to kiss her neck.

No Corific is complete without a bland, sappy sex scene!

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Jessie raised an eyebrow. "You feel up to cooking today?" He smiled at her and nodded. "And get me the hash browns, too!" She couldn't help but return his smile as she reached into the refrigerator once more and brought out a package of bacon and a bag of shredded potatoes. James was definitely back to normal if he was cooking again. After the skillet had heated up, he put in some strips of bacon and pushed them around with his spatula, making sure that they cooked evenly.

Or a gratuitous meal scene!

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The two of them embraced and sat together in silence for several minutes. As they held each other, Jessie looked out the window and saw that it had started snowing again. Suddenly, this made her realize something. "James?" "What is it, Jess?" "I think I just figured out what my dream was about." James pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. "Tell me." "Well," she began, "I don't think it was about you at all...." "Oh?" "I think...I think it was about...my momma!"

OF COURSE!!

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"But it was more than that," she continued. "The rest of the dream...the part after you died...seemed to be about getting over the grief and getting on with my life." Tears welled up in her eyes for a moment when she said this. "James, I would never get over it if you really did die, but...." "Shhh," he whispered, pulling her into an embrace again. "We both know that's not going to happen." "I know," she whispered back. "I know. But it hurts inside, James. It hurts so much...."

James: Oh, sure, start crying again after I go to the trouble of comforting you with my magical healing penis. And while I'm recovering from a cold, no less! Do you know how hard it is to get it up when you're recovering from a cold?!

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"Sometimes I like to think that when my momma died, she became an angel," Jessie muttered at length. "And that she really is always with me...that she's always watching over me. I know that sounds crazy, but...." "No it doesn't," he told her. "Jess, that's a beautiful way to remember her! I think it makes sense, too!" Jessie looked up at him. "Y-you do?" He nodded. "Think about it. How do you think we always manage to survive and escape unharmed, no matter what kind of situation we're in? Maybe we really do have a guardian angel watching over us...and maybe that angel really is Miyamoto...." [...] As the two young lovers embraced once more and pressed their lips together, an angelic form materialized behind them. So, you finally figured it out, did you? said Miyamoto as she nodded approvingly at her daughter and future son-in-law.

...I got nothing.

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Weezing, Victreebel, and Growly would always have their master to care for them...Meowth would always have his buddy's head to perch on...

Nice that the Pokemon get a mention here, considering this whole fic's been about how much Jessie would suffer and languish if James died. Weezing's been with James since he was a Koffing, losing his master would hit him pretty hard! ...great, now I'm thinking about what a Pokemon goes through when its master dies. That actually is depressing. Thanks a lot, Cori, your fic just put me on a bad train of thought!

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Outside the cabin, the snow continued to fall, but Jessie and James were safe from the cold. As long as they were together, they were in a warm place...a place where pain and sorrow could never touch them. And they would always be together, safe in their love...their warm place for all eternity.

*gaaaaaag*

At least there was no Twerp-bashing in this fic.

Anyone else is reminded of Annie Wilkes at this point?

Ach. This crap had better not be named after the NIN song

I'm not sure that this has much to do with anything, but the title always reminded me of someone peeing in a swimming pool, an thus leaving a telltale "warm spot" in the water.

Okay, isn't Cori Falls a grown woman (somewhere in her 30s, IIRC)? Because this sort of attitude coming from an adult is damn unhealthy. I'm not a big fan of deathfic myself, but I've written it in the past, and I've read some that was absolutely beautiful, and more to the point, I've lost both my parents and a sister. People die, Cori. Nobody lives forever, though in the case of fandom characters I suppose they could. But why would you want characters you supposedly love to simply stay static and never grow or experience anything for fear they're going to die.

I'd expect this sort of attitude from, say, an 11-year-old, because when you're 11, death is an upsetting idea, especially if it involves a character you really like. But if you're in your 30s and your still pitching bitch-fits because somebody killed off your favorite fanfic character-you really need to get a grip.

I wonder if she'd be this upset if someone she knew in real life, like a family member, died?

I see that in this fic, Jesse and James have been replaced by Pod People.