Old Van and Stef in love, continued...
Jan. 4th, 2022 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gildaurel posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
last_herald_mageThis is the final part I have written of happy, sappy old Van and Stef. If you read the first parts, you know that Van is injured, old, and stuck at his desk. For some reason, this idea absolutely fascinated me, because I feel like Van is such a perfectionist & I enjoy messing with him. So in this third part, he's even older, and even more pampered by Stef... you get the idea.
Here you go:
The summer months had been warmer than usual. Heading back to his room, Vanyel could already feel the heat of the sun peeking over the horizon. After his early morning ride with Taver—which was glorious and wonderful and I most definitely need to do more often—he’d picked up a clean set of Whites and gone directly to the baths; it was really the only hour he could do so in solitude, anyways. I do not need an audience.
He smiled at the sight that greeted him in his room. Stefen’s hair, gone lighter and blonder with age, fanned out on the pillow, his eyes fluttering in his sleep, and his breathing light but steady. Bolting the door behind him, he stood in the doorway and simply stared at him for a moment. It’s funny, for so many years I was the one leaving him months at a time, on this errand or that mission, and now I’m always waiting for him to come home. He hadn’t left the Palace for six years now, save a few brief excursions here and there. There’s no need—I’m no good for diplomacy anymore. The foreign courts are all petrified of me.
Thankfully, Stefen hadn’t been sent away for more than a month or two at a time—no repeats of that endless mission to Rethwellan three years ago. This was perhaps the longest Stefen had been home, though. It’s going on a full year now. I couldn’t be more grateful.
He moved to sit on the bedside and caress Stefen’s hair gently. The other man stirred, opening sleep-soft eyes to smile at him. “Morning, ashke,” Vanyel murmured.
Stefen stretched next to him, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Getting some much-needed exercise,” Vanyel replied with a raised eyebrow. “No thanks to you,” he added, nudging Stefen’s arm.
Smiling sweetly, Stefen tightened his grip. “You can’t blame me entirely. Though I do like to pamper you,” he added.
Vanyel muttered something unintelligible and shifted into Stefen. He’d somehow thought that he would return to his youthful form once he’d rid himself of the nagging injury, but… that hadn’t exactly been what happened. Gemma’d told him his bones were fully healed two years ago, and his leg hadn’t plagued him once since. Maybe I should’ve tried to spar with Tran again then. It could have been good for both of us. But they hadn’t, and now…
No, he’d pretty much kept to the same routine of morning exercises and walks with Taver—although Gemma did say I was healthier than ever and did not recommend an intensive weight loss regime. He’d thought he might be more careful about what he ate, but Stefen would have none of it. Instead, he constantly tries to ply me with pastries and sweets. I can’t believe I ever worried what he would think. He’d love for me to be fat.
“You’re not fat,” Stefen stated, snuggling into him more. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m certainly far from thin.” Vanyel retorted. A few more pounds here and there every year, and it’s quite plain where it’s gone. He looked down at his midsection with resignation.
“Shhh.” Sitting up next to him on the bed, Stefen kissed him deeply, pressing his entire body into his. “You’re so warm,” he murmured.
“And soft.”
Stefen chuckled. “I won’t lie and say it’s not nice.” He finally released him and stood up. “By the way, I haven’t been sleeping this whole time. I remembered to order breakfast for everyone.”
“Thank you. I expect they’ll be here any moment—Tran already Spoke me about it.”
“I’d better put something on, then.” Stefen opened the wardrobe, shrugging into his Scarlets with a speed Vanyel envied. He hasn’t gained an ounce. Of course, he hadn’t either at that age—but still. He lives off of stuffed pies and butter.
Tearing his eyes away from Stefen, he felt the familiar Mindtouch and opened the door for Tantras, not bothering to belt his tunic on. It isn’t like he hasn’t seen me in my shirt. Or shirtless, for that matter. They’d always kept the same hours, and Tran was the one person he could never avoid in the baths. Also the only person who dares to tease me mercilessly. But he’s one to talk.
Not many Heralds reached an old age of peaceful retirement; the Karsite war and Leareth’s exploits had left the two of them as essentially the only Heralds over sixty, save a few teachers here and there, who weren’t in any better shape. Apparently there was a reason for that. Old people don’t want to be running around in salles and keeping their form.
He eyed Tantras as he stepped in, noting the way his tunic strained a bit around his midsection. Not noticeable to most, but I can tell. He hasn’t fared any better than I have since we stopped sparring.
Tantras smiled wickedly. :Vanyel, stop staring. It’s rude. And no, you’re not in better condition than I am.:
He Sent him a mental snort. :No worse.:
:Yes, but I always wear my tunic. It’s less obvious that way.:
Vanyel broke the connection, rolling his eyes.
“Tantras, don’t tease him. He’s horrible afterwards.” Stefen was busy setting out plates and cups on their room table, a larger one they’d requested now that Vanyel conducted so many meetings in their rooms.
“I can only imagine. He’s quite the princess these days.”
Vanyel smacked Tantras’ ear. “You know, maybe I’ll surprise you. Secretly get back in condition and force you out of retirement.”
Eyeing him dubiously, Tantras sat in one of their plush chairs. “Not with Stefen feeding you.”
“Hey!” Stefen held up his hands in defense. “I don’t feed him…” he trailed off as they both cast suspicious looks at him. “…all the time.”
Another rap at the door with no Mindtouch this time, and Vanyel rushed over to take the plates from the usual manservant. “Thank you, Michal.”
“I see Stef ordered the meal.” Plucking a warm roll from a plate, Tantras laughed at the Bard. “And you try to claim you’re not the one softening him up.”
Ignoring him, Vanyel responded to Jisa’s tentative Mindtouch. :Yes, love, we’re here. Tran’s mocking me again.:
Her Mindvoice was full of laughter. :We should never meet over meals. He won’t let you alone.:
:Especially meals Stefen orders.: He Felt her laugh again in response to his dry tone.
Materializing in the doorway, Jisa and Treven stepped inside.
:Hello, Vanyel.: Treven’s Mindvoice was as subdued and respectful as ever. :Thank you for getting this together.:
:Of course.:
Clad only in his shirt like Vanyel, Treven was a specimen. He looks like Tantras when he was younger. The untied laces revealed a tan and muscular chest, leading down to a perfectly flat abdomen. Injustice. Plus, he’s a brilliant ruler.
He knew Treven still looked up to him and felt that he needed him, desperately—but he could manage without me. He just doesn’t know it. Unlike Tantras, Treven would never dare to joke with him, even after all these years. Treven had once confided in Vanyel that he’d seriously considered abdicating to him that first year, when he’d realized how much more expertise he had in state matters. Which was ridiculous. We work very, very well together, though. He knows more than he thinks.
“Please, everyone, eat first,” he said, gesturing to the table. “We have at least a candlemark before morning Council.”
Once they’d filled their plates and sat in the various chairs, Vanyel took a deep breath. “So they’re going to bring up the forced subscriptions into the army again. I wanted to test your ideas on the subject before actually speaking today—I don’t know if we all have the same feelings about it, now that the war’s so long over.”
Treven put down his apple. “I’m against, to be honest. I’m from a manor that was always heavily drafted, and despite our close kinship to the royal family, many of the locals complained.” He paused and looked at Vanyel. “We’ve spoken about this.”
“Yes.” Vanyel sat down in his chair, eyeing the overfilled plate Stefen handed him with some amusement before placing it to the side. “I agree with Treven. If we don’t absolutely need the standing army, we should protect our good will with the noble families. Let them keep most of their sons at home, only send the third one to the guard.”
Tantras shook his head. “But remember how horrible it was to drastically increase the draft. And with entirely untrained troops—what a disaster. We lost half the green infantrymen the first year. If we had a baseline of a certain quantity—“
“Then we’re operating under the assumption that we will go to war. In my experience, life has a funny way of fulfilling your expectations. Isn’t it better to actually believe our borders will stay peaceful? Plus, that would please our allies—give credence to our word.”
“A bit impractical, though.”
:You just like to disagree with me.:
:Mouth too full to speak out loud?:
Vanyel did not deign to respond.
Jisa was looking between the two of them. “Stop quibbling in private Mindspeech, you’re both impossible. What do you think, Stefen? You aren’t from a noble family and you were a child when the border heated up- like me and Treven, but our experiences are so different. What were they saying in the streets?"
Surprise written on his face—you’re still shocked we listen to you, ashke, but you’re brilliant—Stefen answered after a moment. “Most people just thought it was another trick of the rich and the guard. A way to sell you into slavery—nobody wanted to be picked up for any reason, nor really understood the difference between being drafted and being arrested for vagrancy. When the ‘drafted’ never came back… people just assumed they were killed.” His face grew more thoughtful. “But they probably never came back because the army gave them opportunities they wouldn’t have had at home. Hells, maybe they were grateful.
“You’re giving me an idea,” Vanyel said slowly. He put down his now-empty plate. How did that happen? Gods, I’m starting to get used to eating when I’m thinking. He stood, straightening his shirt and pacing as he sorted through his ideas. “What if…what if we had a sort of voluntary army training program for non-landed and unskilled youth? We could send information through the temples and inns, somehow… give us a standing army without taking the nobles’ children who have no desire to be a part of it. They’d surely help finance the training, if it meant their precious offspring wouldn’t face the front lines. Then we’d only have to draft unwilling soldiers if it was wartime, and we could sell it to our allies as an infrastructure improvement, not a combat move.”
“Those street recruits would be the first to die in a real war, though,” Jisa interjected. “Is that fair?”
Stopping and folding his arms, Vanyel weighed the options. “But they might die of hunger or exposure anyways. Wouldn’t they rather have the possibility of escaping the poverty?”
“I would have,” Stefen volunteered. “I would have taken any way out.”
Of course. Because you’re amazing. He realized he was probably looking at him like a love-struck fool and turned his gaze back to Treven, whose brow wrinkled in thought.
“I like it,” he said finally.
“As do I.” Tantras met Vanyel’s eyes. :See, I agree with you when you say something intelligent.:
:So you should agree with everything I say.:
Tantras laughed out loud. “All right, I think we’re done here and we can agree on this for now. Who will present it?”
“Not me,” Vanyel said. “Everyone thinks I manhandle the Council anyways.”
Jisa shook her head, smiling. “Because you do. Nobody dares disagree with the great Herald-mage.” She paused, considering. “I think you should say it, Treven. This is the kind of far-reaching plan that should come from the king.”
“Agreed.” Picking up the empty plates and setting them on the table, Vanyel gestured to the door. “See you all at Council?”
They nodded in acquiescence, Treven and Jisa filing out first, then Tantras, who paused briefly in the doorway.
:Rushing us out so you can finish getting dressed alone?:
“I will kill you, Tran.”
“I know you too well.” Tantras blew him a kiss and shut the door behind him.
Treven breathed a huge sigh of relief as they left Vanyel’s chambers. “He always has the solution to everything.”
“You sound like me as a child.” She smiled at him. “I thought he knew it all.
“He does.” Treven sounded adamant. “I’ve never met a more brilliant man. No offense to your father.” he added quickly. “Randale gave everything he could to the realm, and he had a wonderful way with our allies. Vanyel though…”
“I know.”
Pausing, he looked at her with questioning in his eyes. “I don’t want to sound rude, but—”
“Oh, you noticed.” She switched to Mindspeech. :He’s aware of it.:
:I didn’t really notice so much when he was in formal Whites.:
:He’s still very touchy. Only Tantras dares to tease him, probably because he’s not much better off.:
:Is it because of his leg? I would’ve thought it would be better after so much time.:
She eyed him sidelong. :I didn’t figure you for such a gossip, love.:
:Well, it does sort of matter. What if we have to send him out? Can he handle it?:
:You’d better not send him out. I will not forgive you.:
He held up his hands in surrender. :Fine, fine. I’m only saying if I absolutely had to.:
:I’m sure he would be able to. He exercises… not as much as he could, I suppose, but I think it’s just age.: She shrugged defensively. :You wouldn’t even think twice about it if you hadn’t known him when he was half-starved.:
:No—: Treven looked offended. :Obviously he looks fine. Or more than fine for a man of his age— I don’t look at men that way, but if I did… well. I understand why some Court ladies still choose to ignore his obvious affections and set their hopes on him. But he is, ah, not exactly in fighting form.:
She knew. And her father had looked particularly out of form today, probably because he hadn’t been trying to mask it. It’s usually hard to tell. He still looks so hale and well for his age, that’s all we really notice. Not that she judged him. He’s so goddamned busy running the kingdom, and he’s told me how hard it is to do any exercise other than just his regular routine these days. It tires him out more than Treven realizes, to do so much paperwork and attend so many meetings. He has to wake up before dawn if he wants to ride.
Plus… she knew that Stefen certainly didn’t mind. She remembered their conversation a few weeks back when, a little worried, she’d asked him if Vanyel had gained weight since he’d been home.
“A bit, perhaps,” he’d said evasively.
She’d stared him down. “Oh, fine. Yes, he has, but I promise I won’t let him get utterly out of condition. He won’t let himself, anyways.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, she’d asked him what he thought was behind it.
“He’s sixty-three, Jisa! I know you and Treven think he will live forever, but you have to make some concessions to his age. I guess it’s somewhat my fault too… I like pampering him,” he’d replied, sticking his chin out stubbornly. “Because he deserves to be comfortable, and happy, and not out fighting bandits at sixty, so I make sure he eats, and enjoys himself, and doesn’t worry about waking up before dawn to kill himself in the salle.”
Jisa’d held her hands up. “All right, all right! Look, I don’t care, as long as he’s happy. It’s not really my business anyways; I just want to make sure he’s all right. What he cares about is what you think.”
Stefen smiled, then. “Me? I fucking love it. And trust me, he knows that. He’s no fool.”
:And what were you thinking about?: Treven nudged her.
:Just that… I think it’s more than a bit Stefen’s fault. He ‘s a bit like you when I was with child—enjoys it.:
Treven laughed aloud. :I did see him filling Van’s plate to excess.:
Writing up the proposal took him a fortnight and no small number of sleepless nights. There were so many loopholes to consider, so many minor errors that could cost actual lives. Looking at the candle burning low, Vanyel penned the final words in his clear, neat script before leaning back into his chair.
“Isn’t there anyone else who can do that?” Stefen was curled up in bed with a few sheets of music in his hands.
“Not as well.”
“Did you even eat dinner?”
Vanyel shot Stefen an exasperated look. “You would be worried about that. I’m fairly certain I haven’t moved far from this chair in over a week, so dinner’s not my greatest worry.”
“Van, I don’t think not eating is your solution.”
“I ate, alright?” Vanyel stretched out before standing up from the chair and looking down at himself. I better watch it. I could get noticeably… larger… from this point. And I am barely exercising, other than those strength movements. I need to ride. He had eaten; in fact, he’d shoved in whatever dinner they’d brought without thinkng, he’d been so absorbed in his writing, and he hadn’t even looked at what it was.
“Ashke, I’m sorry. I just want you to take care of yourself.”
“Well, I’m not sure letting myself go is taking care of myself. And don’t even say I’m not. I’m horribly out of condition.”
“Because you’ve been trapping yourself in your chair doing the paperwork of the entire Council, not because of what you’ve been eating.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s both.” Vanyel sighed and moved toward the bed. “Stef, I really need to exercise more consistently.” He sat down on the edge and removed his stockings.
“You really do look fine. Nobody would think you were a day over fifty.” Stefen looked up at him from where he was lying down. “It actually suits you more than you know. Personally, I think it’s preferable to being as thin as I am.”
“I’m sure that when I put on my full formal Whites, that may be true.” He gestured toward himself. “It’s painfully obvious when I’m in my shirt. Besides,” he shook his head. “It’s not about attractiveness, Stefen. Treven even asked me if I thought I could go into the field the other day.” It was an embarrassing conversation for both of us.
Stefen sat bolt upright. “I hope to all hells he’s not thinking of sending you.”
“He might have to! Can you imagine?” I can’t. I’m sure I would be dead tired after riding half a day. So would Taver, seeing as I must be several stone more than when he Chose me.
“You’re sixty-three. That would be ridiculous.”
“What if, say, some rogue black robe decides to raise demons on the Karsite border? Who will deal with that? Or should I just let them eat their fill among the border families because I’m too out of condition to ride there?”
“Look, Van,” Stefen sighed and draped an arm around his shoulders. “I can’t predict what future hypothetical situations might arise. I’ll support you if you think you should be waking up before dawn to run around the salle and possibly hurt yourself even worse, because that’s your decision to make. But you can’t stop your age. I don’t think that you could be in the condition of twenty years ago even if you tried desperately; your body was already revolting against you. Do you truly believe that if you were two stone less and sparred once a week with Tantras you would be able to go off into the field without getting utterly exhausted?” Stefen shook his head. “You wouldn’t. You’d probably be falling ill. Didn’t Gemma say you’re healthier than before?”
“Yes.” Vanyel lay back onto the bed, expression thoughtful. “I guess it’s hard to say how much is my own vanity and how much is worry for what could come.”
Stefen curled back up around him, gently caressing his body through his shirt. “Just get some exercise tomorrow. We both have the day off and the writing is done.”
“I will.”
Stefen had eaten, bathed, and was leaning against the far wall when Vanyel finally opened his eyes. I could watch him all day. In his sleep, Vanyel’s shirt had twisted up, and he looked positively inviting. Somewhat soft around his stomach and hips, but still muscular around his shoulders and arms—the separation of jaw and neck still sharp—I wonder if he would be up for—
:Yes.: Vanyel held out his arms, not bothering to pull his shirt down for once, and Stefen fairly leaped into them. :Remember, I was planning on exercising today.:
Stefen chuckled softly as Vanyel showed him just what he meant by that.
A candlemark later, Vanyel nudged him out of a doze. :Up, up. I seriously do mean to ride Taver today, and it’s already noon.:
Stefen stood, reaching a hand down to help Vanyel up. That was nice. It feels like it’s been at least a month since we actually had time to make love.
Vanyel smiled and walked over to the wardrobe. “I know. Gods, it feels good not to be at council—or, to be honest, in the nursery. To be myself.” He shrugged out of his sleeping shirt and pulled on a casual, light blue one that looked relatively new, along with dark breeches. Catching Stefen’s look, he shook his head. “You do notice everything, don’t you. Yes, I had some new clothes made a few months ago, so I could have something that actually fit right. I haven’t had a chance to wear anything but Whites in ages.”
He looked good, and relaxed; the clothes were really quite flattering. He’s always, always known how to dress. Far better than I ever could. Vanyel ran the comb through his hair, studying himself in the mirror with a rueful expression. “All right, I’ll admit I don’t look half bad, all things considered, but still.” He smoothed his shirt, which stubbornly refused to lay entirely flat. “I remember when I had to belt my breeches twice just so they would stay on.”
“That wasn’t any better of a look,” Stefen pointed out. “Let’s leave that subject alone today, shall we? It’s a beautiful day for a ride.” He put on his own discarded clothing from earlier that morning—not red, for once, thank the gods—and opened the door for Vanyel.
Vanyel would have blushed and said something if he hadn’t promised Stefen to keep his mouth shut. Two hours in, and I’m seriously out of breath.
:You’re too hard on yourself. I’ve known many Heralds, Vanyel Ashkevron, and you are the least lazy man I’ve ever met.:
Surprised that Taver would speak of it, Vanyel didn’t respond immediately. :Why can’t I stay in form, then?: He asked finally. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; he’d been wondering what Taver made of it all.
:Do you even realize how much your stamina decreases with age? And you’re carrying the workload of five Heralds, still. Your powers might be five times stronger, but you’re a human man. How much of your work is even magic anymore?:
:True enough.:
:I wish you would cut yourself some slack. I’ve had… older Heralds before. You can’t keep the same form you had when you were younger. Your body simply won’t let you.: He paused. :I don’t usually speak of it, but, since you knew him—Lancir had the same troubles, you know.:
:It’s not easy for me.: He admitted grudgingly. :I think, most of my life, I put a lot of stock into being a sort of warrior, always ready to grab my sword and jump into battle. Almost as a way of disproving what my father thought…:
:I can understand that, Van, but even if you hadn’t put on any weight, Stefen’s right that you wouldn’t be able to fight the way you did. You’d probably still be limping—which, all things considered, was actually worse.:
:True.: Sighing, he looked over at Stefen, who didn’t seem to be struggling at all. :I should ride you more often, though.:
There was a hint of a smile in his Mindvoice. :You should.:
“Ready to take a break?” Twisting his hands in the reins, Stefen pulled up next to Vanyel. “There’s a little meadow just past these trees. I brought a picnic.”
“That was thoughtful.” He knows I need to stop. Hells, I used to ride two days without a break.
:You’re NOT twenty years old anymore.: Taver sounded mildly annoyed.
Trying to mask his irritation at the scolding and the eavesdropping, which Taver seemed to have no compunctions about doing, he followed Stefen’s horse to a lovely little clearing. It’s a beautiful day.
He watched Stefen dismount with enviable ease, hesitating before making his own attempt. This will hurt. Even though his leg was better, his body still ached a bit more every day—I’ve certainly abused it in the past. Stifling a groan as he shifted off, he laid a hand against Taver’s flank to steady himself. Ouch.
“Are you all right, ashke?”
“Fine,” he replied through gritted teeth. I promised myself I would enjoy this today and not obsess over what I look or feel like.
Stefen spread a blanket on the ground and pulled apples, cheese, and other various foodstuffs out of a saddlebag. At least he didn’t go overboard. Gesturing towards the spread, he shot Vanyel a pleading look. “Come eat?
“Yes, of course.” He sat down as gracefully as he could, bracing himself against a large rock. “Thank you for thinking of this.”
I hope he doesn’t think I’m coddling him. Stefen was trying, really trying, not to be overly considerate. He’ll bite my head off. He knew how hard it was for Vanyel to let go of perfection in any realm of his life, and though he could tell him he looked wonderful until he was blue in the face—and had been, for the past three years— it wasn’t really all about appearance with Van. He hates losing control… and he misses being such a skilled swordsmen and rider. I’m sure it galls him that I have more stamina in the saddle than he does.
He snuck a look at him; judging by the slightly glazed look in his eyes, he was deep in conversation with Taver again, as he’d been half the day. Seated, his hands folded carefully in his lap, his eyes off in the distance, he reminded Stefen of those first months. He would look carefully just past me, all elegance, dignity, and distance. He still has that infinite grace. I hope he knows that. I certainly tell him often enough.
Really, had he changed much? It’s hard to tell when you’re with someone every day. Certainly, he was quite obviously older. But otherwise… not so much as he thinks, though I do have trouble remembering him rail thin. It’s been years since he pushed himself relentlessly into his vision of “necessary form.” Frankly, living with this version was infinitely better. He’s not so exhausted and broken by the end of the week, and we actually have mornings together most days. In fact, I think he’s finally accepted that it’s not so awful to be comfortable.
Vanyel’s eyes refocused and met his with humor in them. “And what are you thinking about, staring at me?”
“Sorry.” Stefen actually did blush. I meant to look away in time. “Honestly? I was thinking about how nice it is to have more time to spend with you.”
“It is beyond nice.” Vanyel stood slowly, hand on the rock behind him, and bent to gather up the little that remained of their picnic. Stowing it in one of the saddlebags, he reached into another, larger one and cast a smile over his shoulder. “I did bring our instruments.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Stefen held up a hand. “The most famous Bard in Haven doesn’t play for free.”
Chuckling, Vanyel handed him his gittern and raised an eyebrow. “What coin could I possibly have that I haven’t already spent on you?”
“I don’t want new coin; I want more of the same.” He shot him an exaggerated, lascivious look and Vanyel laughed outright.
“Oh Gods no, Stef, not here. I don’t think I’d be able to walk tomorrow.”
“I’ll accept a kiss, provided it’s a good one."
Not responding verbally, Vanyel set down his lute and eased himself down next to Stefen. He cupped his face in his hands and, stroking down one side softly, pressed his lips gently but insistently against his. When they opened, Vanyel slowly swept his tongue against his, running the other hand through his hair, pulling their heads together. For a minute, Stefen could swear, they did not breathe.
I never knew a kiss till I met you, ashke.
Finally breaking away, Vanyel smiled at him, so openly and sweetly Stefen thought he might melt into the ground. “Can I have a song now?”
“I think it’ll have to be a love song.”
“That’ll do.” Vanyel lay down, hands behind his head, lips still curved in that smile. “That’ll do just fine.”
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Date: 2022-01-08 07:03 am (UTC)second one:
https://last-herald-mage.dreamwidth.org/26345.html
First one:
https://last-herald-mage.dreamwidth.org/25703.html
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