ext_61138 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
http://users.livejournal.com/_elvie/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2008-03-20 08:08 pm
http://users.livejournal.com/_elvie/) wrote in crack_van2008-03-20 08:08 pm
Entry tags:
No More Than Three Words In A Day by Wolf and Boar (PG-13)
Fandom: THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
Pairing: Chris/Vin
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfandboarfics
Author Website: see above
Why this must be read: Another fabulous fic inspired by a line from the series, Wolf and Boar captures Chris and the nature of his relationship with Vin - teasing, trusting, passionate - beautifully, and conjures up images so absorbing you can almost taste the whisky and the dust, shot through with a heady sense of destiny. A real treat.
This new thing was harsh and, at times, bitter. Sometimes violent, sometimes passionate, others quiet and content, but at all times unavoidably right. It made him feel the kind of alive that burned your nerves and stung your eyes and made a man want to curse or sing or hurl bottles or put his fist through a shining window just to hear the glass break so his own brittle soul wouldn’t shatter. It was just a little tincture of hate, possibly self-directed, mixed with what must be love.
No More Than Three Words In A Day
Pairing: Chris/Vin
Author on LJ:
wolfandboarficsAuthor Website: see above
Why this must be read: Another fabulous fic inspired by a line from the series, Wolf and Boar captures Chris and the nature of his relationship with Vin - teasing, trusting, passionate - beautifully, and conjures up images so absorbing you can almost taste the whisky and the dust, shot through with a heady sense of destiny. A real treat.
This new thing was harsh and, at times, bitter. Sometimes violent, sometimes passionate, others quiet and content, but at all times unavoidably right. It made him feel the kind of alive that burned your nerves and stung your eyes and made a man want to curse or sing or hurl bottles or put his fist through a shining window just to hear the glass break so his own brittle soul wouldn’t shatter. It was just a little tincture of hate, possibly self-directed, mixed with what must be love.
No More Than Three Words In A Day