Sunday, November 13, 2011

Turn Me On: How Glory Goes

PhotobucketWe want to know what turns you on, ladies! Which fics are rocking your world and are must reads for us Pervs? We want you to tell us what you like, what turns you on about this fic. Let’s talk about it over a glass of wine and get everyone reading it.

Author: S R Devaste
Status: Complete
Chapters: 6
Word Count: 21,119
Summary: I, Leah Clearwater, don't believe in happy endings. I don't get them either. But sitting by the fire with Dr. Carlisle Cullen, I find something better: glory.

Guest Perv Mskathy - When I was diving for a Leah fic, I found this and was instantly hooked. The chapter 1 author’s note scared me, I can’t lie, but sometimes, the heartache is worth the journey. This is one of those times, I assure you.

I can’t even lie. I love how this author skewered the Sam/Emily storyline. It made me laugh so hard, and gave me a great sense of Leah’s voice. You get some backstory on them both in chapter 2, and that’s when this little nugget gets dropped:

"Leah, you're coming home with me," he says. He knows I'm going to say yes, the fucker. But then— "Please." His voice is rough, and I can't help a surge of satisfaction. I've done that; I want to do it again.

I loved chapter 3, because the two of them are finally talking to each other, really talking. Oh, okay, I might also love it for cheeky lines like this:

"I promise I don't bite, Leah." He smirks. "Well if you're a good girl, I may consider it."

Please, Doctor Cullen. Please. The man just fucking oozes sex and sensuality. You know -- you just fucking KNOW -- that when these two get down to it, it’s going to be epic.
"I miss sex. I miss making women scream." He says it as if he misses having ice cream or taking his poodle for long walks in the park.
You are one smooth mother fucker, Carlisle. I want one. Please, can I have one? I promise to scream really good for him.

Chapter 4 is like the band-aid rip. It’s raw, emotional, and gut-wrenching. Oh, and then it gets really fucking sexy.

I was totally bawling by the end. You’ll understand in context, but:

"Don't wait up for me," I yell, turning around and running back towards the condo. "I'm growing balls and getting English Muffins."

was just the best ever.

Glory goes like this, indeed.

Why should you read this story? Read it because it’s sexy. Read it because it gives you a strong, beautiful, brash, snarky, really fucking smart Leah. Read it because it will reach inside your heart (when it’s not making you moan), and pull your heart out. Read it because authors that write beautiful words like this should write them more, more, more, and we should lift them up and praise their brave storytelling. Read it because it’s good.

Chele - How Glory Goes burns hot and bright. It filled me with a vicious ache for more of everything, more time, more love, more of each piece that made up these characters. The dance between Leah’s dry humor, and Carlisle’s vicious strength and willingness to be vulnerable is enthralling.

The writing is brilliant and disjointed and magical. I won’t rehash the details and set up, as my fellow pervs have covered it brilliantly, and there’s so much beauty in the mysteries as they unfold, but I will re-iterate that the devil is in the details here. S R Devaste takes a few lines from a song and uses them to crush your soul on one page, and heal your heart on the next. She can turn a breakfast food into a renaissance. So amazing.

This story is a paradox of both heart-wrenching agony, and uplifting love and acceptance. If you think you know angst, then you need to be introduced to How Glory Goes, because unless you’ve felt the ache of this story, angst is still a stranger to you.

Jeanne - This fic isn’t simple or easy, but neither is Leah Clearwater. In How Glory Goes we get a darker, sardonic and a little crazy version of our favorite wolfgirl. Here she is human, heartbroken and bent on making the world pay for it, or at least her ex-boyfriend Sam.

This story isn’t gentle, it drags you along at break-neck speed. Plunging you head first into the giant mess that is Leah’s life. It isn’t pretty, or for the faint-of-heart in the least. In fact, there were a couple points where I was so heartbroken for these characters that I wasn’t sure I could keep reading, but I loved them too much to stop.

Leah and Carlisle aren’t your typical romantic leads in any way shape or form. They are artfully mismatched, but in a way that complements as much as it contrasts each other. Dark and light blend together to create something new and undeniably beautiful.

Despite all the heart-fail there is a thread of quirky humor running through-out the story that slaps you right in the face from the first paragraph. It keeps you snorting even when there’s tears in your eyes, and you need those laughs, you treasure them. In a way they are the glory, the moments in this fic and in life that keep us afloat in the sea of bullshit we wade through each day.

Carlisle teaches Leah this, through his love and dedication he turns her face to the sun. In that way he is so very canon, just as Leah is ever the bitter, angry, lonely shewolf. She fights her own happiness with ever last breath, even as she clings to Carlisle she pushes away the promise of love that he represents. It’s a fascinating dance to watch that ends almost too quickly, for me. I could watch these two tango forever.

My favorite word is zerstört. It's German and it means utterly decimated. Those Nazi fuckers know something about being wiped off the ass-crack of the earth, bombed into oblivion. That's what happens to Carlisle then, there's no English word for it.

And me? I just watch. Like the bombers at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Look at the mushroom cloud rise black and brutal; all of the void exploding form a single point. Oblivion feasts on ground and sky. I am become the death the destroyer of mother fucking worlds. It's not something you'd watch on TV or read in a book or ever subject yourself to for pithyentertainment. It's not Gossip Girl, or Sex and the fucking City, or that little shitty poem you wrote when you were a teenager about candied hands and hearts and sticky dreams and cocktails. I know, I know, when you wrote it, it made your best friend cry. It had to be good. Right? Had to be art. You thought you were so clever, didn't you? Didn't you! You thought you were so deep. Well, you're not an artist and I'm not either. That's the point of it. You can't gloss real grief up, or make it sexy or even, really, summarize it. There's only one word that even comes close: zerstört.

Deep groans, rusty with longing, screech through the air. It's as if his organs, not his heart, not his soul, but his body— the most visceral parts of him, are screaming through his throat.

This fic isn’t for everyone, but for those who treasure hope and can see it even in the darkest times this is like a lighthouse on a stormy night. Okay, enough of my cliche bullshit. Read the fic, fall in love with these two gorgeous, broken souls and join me in my jealously that I didn’t write it.

Teal - Not every story comes in a pretty little package, and there certainly aren’t bows or ribbons tying this one up. The author is clear about that from the very beginning. However, despite this being a hurt/comfort/tragedy, skillful writing manages to blend humor, an odd sort of romance, and surrender all into one concise package. Leah is who you’d expect her to be: crass, rough around the edges, cynical, and a little softer on the inside than she really wants to admit.

What hooked me the most was that as independent and tough as Leah presented herself, she was so obviously a woman who innately craved connection. She was sarcastic and sometimes spiteful toward her exes, yet during brief interactions with them, there’s obviously something that keeps her from going ape shit. When she needs a ride, she calls Jake. When she gets some devastating news, she keeps it from Sam when she could have held it over his head for sympathy or in an attempt to preserve their relationship. So when she meets Carlisle, it’s almost unsurprising how quickly she finds herself falling into him...accepting his suggestions...complying to his desire to listen to her, help her.

In a way, Carlisle is a mystery. He’s been through so fucking much himself, yet he lets Leah pour out her heart, soul, and fears to him at her own pace. While he eventually shares, he doesn’t dwell on the condition of his own heart or the tragic circumstances that have shadowed his existence. Instead, he does the one thing Leah believes she’s doing but is actually terrified of - he moves forward. And he makes Leah move with him.

Carlisle is sexy in this fic because he doesn’t ask. There is no moment where he forces Leah to do something she doesn’t want, but he also refused to wait for her to catch up or over think. It’s clear that some of his own demons come out to play when he fucks her silly, but in a weird, wonderful way, that is what they both need. And as a side, there is NEVER anything wrong with a little Dirty Talking Carlisle, just saying. Just. Fucking. Saying. *evil grin*

If you’re a fan of Leah, of angst, of tragedy, or just plain reality, you need to read this. You will certainly find one of the most unique fics you’ve ever read, though you may be torn between gratefulness that the emotional turmoil doesn’t drag out and a desire to know more of these characters.

Enjoy and happy perving!

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