Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-07-17 09:10 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-07-17 09:10 pm
Dean/Various - A Real Dead Ringer for Love
Fandom: Supernatural, and assorted others.
Title: A Real Dead Ringer for Love
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, and various assorted others.
Content Warning: Again, crack.
Summary: Some of the people Dean Winchester's met along the way.
Author’s Note: A very happy but very belated birthday todefy_n_gravity! We have way too many Dean pairings. Again, the drabbles are NOT related to each other, and possibly not even related to anything we’ve been playing. Just random meetings between characters that we play. Title shamelessly stolen from Meatloaf.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of it at all, and I’m very poor so please don’t sue.
i.
“Just, look. Whatever you do, don’t—”
BANG!
“—shoot it.”
Dean buried his face in his hands and tried not to groan. Shooting at a demon only really tended to piss them off, and Dean wasn’t in the mood to piss off a demon today. But he wasn’t in the mood to let the crazy lady shooting the demon die, either, which meant that he would have to take care of this one and try not to break his neck in the process.
Fantastic.
Hot chick was a great shot, though. Point blank to the heart.
She, on the other hand, was very confused over the fact that that the demon she had shot point blank through the heart was dead as a doornail. “I—he should be dead.”
“People should be a lot of things, sweetheart,” he replied, before shoving her down so that she didn’t get impaled on the ceremonial knife that the demon in question tossed at them.
“Really not in the mood for you to be screwing things up, Winchester,” the demon growled, eyes turning pitch black in anger. A newbie. Awesome. “This is an invite only party.”
“People always tell me that, but you gotta admit. Everybody loves a party crasher. It’s how you get on the map.” He pulled the knife out of the wall, before pushing himself to his feet and getting between him and the girl. Swinging it around in hand once or twice, he gave him a bit of a smirk. “Not a bad piece though.”
“That won’t kill me, Winchester, and you know it.”
“Maybe. But this will.” He pulled Ruby’s knife out of his belt, and all it took was a few steps forward, before he was shoving the knife into the heart where the bullet wound was, and watching as the demon flickered out of existence right before his eyes. He pulled the knife out of his chest, letting him drop to the ground in front of them. He then took a deep breath and turned to help the woman behind him to her feet. “You alright?”
“What the hell was that?”
Dean would take that to mean that she was fine. “That? That was a demon.”
“A demon. As in the spawn of Hell?”
“Pretty much, yup.”
“Right. Sure it was.”
Dean sighed heavily, before looking over her. Everything about her screamed “fed,” he just wasn’t sure what kind of fed she was. He handed her the ceremonial knife, and gave her a smile. “Look, just say he had your gun, and you had no choice but to stab him. There’s enough evidence here for you to nail him for the satanic murderer that the demon is, and there shouldn’t be any questions asked.”
“You’re not staying.”
“Nope. Me and criminal cases don’t get along.”
“Do I at least get a first name? I already have your last.”
“Do I get yours?” He watched her face for a moment, seeing the hesitation there, and he smirked. “Yeah. I thought so.” He turned to walk away, before she spoke up behind him again.
“99,” she sighed. “Agent 99.”
That was no name he ever heard of, but he returned the smirk enough to turn and face her again. “Dean. Nice to meet you.”
ii.
Dean closed the door behind him, and gave her a hopeful look. “Did you get it?”
Bela turned around to face him, leaning back against the motel bed with a smirk. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Dean rolled his eyes. “C’mon Bela—April Fool’s day is only twenty-four hours long.” The Winchester tradition of one-upping each other had taken on a different kind of turn once they met Bela. Now Dean could pretty much guarantee that it was going to be a dozy so long as she actually go him what he wanted.
Bela sighed softly before reaching behind her back and holding up the object in question, wrapped in a hankerchief. Dean grinned and started to reach for it, but Bela quickly snatched it away. “Uh-uh,” she said with a smirk. “I don’t do things for free. You want it, you’ll have to work for it.”
“And how would I do that exactly?” he asked, the grin still on his face as she grabbed his shirt and started pulling him forward. He grinned as he leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and sending them tumbling back onto the bed.
***
When Dean finally finished ‘paying his debt,’ he pulled back from her with a grin, taking the handkerchief in his hands. “So—this’ll work, right?”
“It should.”
“And no bad side effects, no Sam keeling over dead in a week?”
“Nope,” she said with a sigh. “Just what it says on the tin.”
“Good,” he nodded, before leaning in to kiss her again. “When Sam gets pissed, I’ll make sure you get some of the credit.”
“Dean—”
“What, you don’t want it?”
“I don’t want Sam coming after me for doing something for you is what I don’t want.”
“Don’t think I’ll protect you,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her again, and she just shoved him off.
“Go prank your brother already.”
He laughed, before leaning in to press a kiss to her spine. “See you when I get back.”
iii.
“So you got this … jet skiing.”
Hadley looked over the injuries on the soaking wet man who had wandered into get himself patched up after what looked like having lost a fight with a washing machine. A washing machine who had been pissed if she was going to be more specific. She watched him for a moment, but he just glanced up at her again with a smirk.
“Yup. Jet skiing. Nasty sport if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“If you don’t know what you were doing, then why were you doing it?” she asked as she started to stitch up the gash in his arm.
“Well, you can’t hit on a hot doctor if you don’t get yourself injured first,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes before tugging a bit on the floss. “Ow!”
“Hitting on the person administering medical treatment—never a wise choice. You wouldn’t want them to get distracted.”
The patient, John Bonham—who last she checked was the drummer for Zeppelin—just grinned at her as he leaned back on the cot. “Just can’t help myself, sweetheart. It’s been a long time since I had a doctor that was actually my type.”
“And what is your type? Female?”
“No,” he grinned shamelessly. “Also hot.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Well, sit still Casanova.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, leaning back again. “Only if you promise me a first name when this is over.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
John smirked, before leaning back in his chair. “Think I like you already.”
“Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.”
iv.
What it was, whatever they had done, blew a hole in the wall between the worlds. That had been their intention. They wanted to blow the hole so it would suck them out and put them back where they belonged. It was a long shot plan, but they didn’t have a whole lot of other choices. And naturally, as things always seem to turn out when they have no choice, it didn’t work. Instead of blowing them out, it dragged people in.
Stupid magic.
David was sulking, Christopher was drunk, and April was studying these two new arrivals, wondering how exactly she was going to break the news to them. She would appreciate it if the shorter one would stop staring at her legs though.
“Can you please not do that?”
“Sorry, sweetheart?”
“Please stop checking me out like I’m a piece of meat. I’m trying to figure out how best to explain this to you and I can’t do that if you’re just—yeah.”
The guy shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the tree behind him, smirk still on his face. “So what exactly do you need to explain, darlin’?”
“It’s April, actually. My name is April.”
“Right, April. Sorry. I’m Dean, this is Sam. Where the fuck are we?”
“Everworld.”
“Everworld. Is that in America?”
“Try alternate dimension.”
“Alternate dimension. Awesome.” Dean paused for a moment before looking back at her. “So how do we get back?”
“You don’t.”
“We don’t?”
“You don’t.”
Dean was quiet as he processed that, before shaking his head. “Okay. This officially isn’t so cool anymore.”
“Yeah,” April sighed. “That’s what we said.”
“So … what do we do?”
“Well—either of you know how to use a sword?”
“You got to be shitting me.”
v.
Ruby was fairly certain that Dean was going to hate himself in the morning for this, but as far as she was concerned? That was his problem, not hers.
Her back hit the wall and she pulled at the collar of his shirt, wanting to get it off him and on the floor where it belonged. It didn’t take him long to oblige her, and her fingers met warm muscle and skin, gripping at his back as he pulled her away from the wall again and tossed her down on the motel bed.
Clothes were tossed, bodies were pressed together, and there was that familiar push pull friction that both of them knew far better than they would want to admit to. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and with the way Dean was pulling at her, it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was scared, running on empty from the price on his head, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last. All that mattered now was getting what he needed.
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the bed when it was over. She wouldn’t stay the night, and more to the point she knew that he wouldn’t want her to. But for now, just having the contact was … nice.
vi.
“So this is what you do all the time?” Dean sighed as he leaned back against the headstone that Buffy had just pushed herself up on. “Sit in graveyards and wait for vampires to show up?”
“Yup,” she said with a sigh, trying not to pay attention to the build of the guy with strong shoulders next to her. Dean was another one of those kinds of guys. The guys she would fall for and things wouldn’t work out because she was Buffy and the Slayer, and that kind of responsibility didn’t really lend to a social life. As evidenced by the fact that she spent most of her time hanging out in graveyards. “Such is the life of the Slayer.”
“Usually we’re only in graveyards when we’re dealing with ghosts. Have to salt and burn the bodies,” Dean turned around to face her more. “Don’t you ever, like—go to movies, go out for drinks—”
“You trying to ask me out on a date, Winchester?” she smirked, calling him out on it before he could even finish.
“What? Nah,” he shrugged. “I don’t date.” He paused for a minute, before turning back to her with a smirk. “But if you ever wanted to—”
“Don’t worry—I don’t date either. Unfortunately.”
Dean nodded considering that for a minute, before glancing back to her. “Do you have sex?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, not dating I get. I don’t date either. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have sex.” He turned and gave her an absolutely shameless grin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or smack it off him. “Do you?”
She faltered for a moment, before turning her eyes back to the graveyard. “That’s none of your business.”
“Uh-huh.” The grin didn’t fade. “I’ll wear you down yet, Summers.”
It was probably a bad thing that she was really, really hoping he would.
vii.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Samantha felt Dean wrap his arms around her from behind, and she leaned back into him with a smile. “Just makin’ dinner. Why?”
“Smells good,” he nodded, brushing a kiss against the side of her neck. “Better than whatever I’d be making.”
“You cook just fine,” she said with a smirk as she pushed around the ground beef for the sloppy joe’s. “I like your grilled cheese.”
“And that’s just about all I’m good at,” he laughed. She felt the vibrations of his voice press against her skin and she sighed as she leaned back against him, just enjoying the feel of him being close.
“How long can you stay?”
She felt him lick his lips, the way he always did when he didn’t want to answer the question, before letting out a slow breath. “A week, maybe. I’ve got a job to wrap up, and then I have to move on.”
“That’s a shame,” she sighed. “But at least we got the week, right?”
“Yeah,” he smirked, turning her around so that he could kiss her. “At least we’ve got that.”
viii.
“Angel Investigations, how may we—well, hel-lo there.”
Cordy was leaning over her desk with a wide grin, looking at the two men who had just walked into the hotel. She hadn’t really been looking for anything to do, but when two good-looking guys walk into the office, you perk up and pay attention.
The shorter of the two flashed her a smile, before leaning and resting his elbows on the counter. “Hey, there, sweetheart. Is the boss around?”
“You’re talking to her,” she replied. “Well, one of ‘em.”
“So you’re Angel?”
“What? No. Angel is the broody champion that we keep in the back. I’m Cordelia.”
“So, Cordelia—” And wow if the guy didn’t have a way of saying her name. “—why is the place called ‘Angel Investigations’?”
“He used to be the boss. We did a hostile takeover.”
“Well, I can’t think of a better person to run me out of a job—”
“Dean.”
Cordelia glanced to the tall one with a look that said she really didn’t mind the flirting, but ‘Dean’ took the cue from him and turned back to her with a sigh.
“Right, so—if you wouldn’t mind goin’ to the back and seeing if the ‘broody champion’ is around? Tell him the Winchester brothers are here to see him.”
“I’ll see what I can figure out,” she said with a heavy sigh, before turning to head back into the office.
“Dude. I want a boss like that.”
Title: A Real Dead Ringer for Love
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, and various assorted others.
Content Warning: Again, crack.
Summary: Some of the people Dean Winchester's met along the way.
Author’s Note: A very happy but very belated birthday to
defy_n_gravity! We have way too many Dean pairings. Again, the drabbles are NOT related to each other, and possibly not even related to anything we’ve been playing. Just random meetings between characters that we play. Title shamelessly stolen from Meatloaf.Disclaimer: I don’t own any of it at all, and I’m very poor so please don’t sue.
i.
“Just, look. Whatever you do, don’t—”
BANG!
“—shoot it.”
Dean buried his face in his hands and tried not to groan. Shooting at a demon only really tended to piss them off, and Dean wasn’t in the mood to piss off a demon today. But he wasn’t in the mood to let the crazy lady shooting the demon die, either, which meant that he would have to take care of this one and try not to break his neck in the process.
Fantastic.
Hot chick was a great shot, though. Point blank to the heart.
She, on the other hand, was very confused over the fact that that the demon she had shot point blank through the heart was dead as a doornail. “I—he should be dead.”
“People should be a lot of things, sweetheart,” he replied, before shoving her down so that she didn’t get impaled on the ceremonial knife that the demon in question tossed at them.
“Really not in the mood for you to be screwing things up, Winchester,” the demon growled, eyes turning pitch black in anger. A newbie. Awesome. “This is an invite only party.”
“People always tell me that, but you gotta admit. Everybody loves a party crasher. It’s how you get on the map.” He pulled the knife out of the wall, before pushing himself to his feet and getting between him and the girl. Swinging it around in hand once or twice, he gave him a bit of a smirk. “Not a bad piece though.”
“That won’t kill me, Winchester, and you know it.”
“Maybe. But this will.” He pulled Ruby’s knife out of his belt, and all it took was a few steps forward, before he was shoving the knife into the heart where the bullet wound was, and watching as the demon flickered out of existence right before his eyes. He pulled the knife out of his chest, letting him drop to the ground in front of them. He then took a deep breath and turned to help the woman behind him to her feet. “You alright?”
“What the hell was that?”
Dean would take that to mean that she was fine. “That? That was a demon.”
“A demon. As in the spawn of Hell?”
“Pretty much, yup.”
“Right. Sure it was.”
Dean sighed heavily, before looking over her. Everything about her screamed “fed,” he just wasn’t sure what kind of fed she was. He handed her the ceremonial knife, and gave her a smile. “Look, just say he had your gun, and you had no choice but to stab him. There’s enough evidence here for you to nail him for the satanic murderer that the demon is, and there shouldn’t be any questions asked.”
“You’re not staying.”
“Nope. Me and criminal cases don’t get along.”
“Do I at least get a first name? I already have your last.”
“Do I get yours?” He watched her face for a moment, seeing the hesitation there, and he smirked. “Yeah. I thought so.” He turned to walk away, before she spoke up behind him again.
“99,” she sighed. “Agent 99.”
That was no name he ever heard of, but he returned the smirk enough to turn and face her again. “Dean. Nice to meet you.”
ii.
Dean closed the door behind him, and gave her a hopeful look. “Did you get it?”
Bela turned around to face him, leaning back against the motel bed with a smirk. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Dean rolled his eyes. “C’mon Bela—April Fool’s day is only twenty-four hours long.” The Winchester tradition of one-upping each other had taken on a different kind of turn once they met Bela. Now Dean could pretty much guarantee that it was going to be a dozy so long as she actually go him what he wanted.
Bela sighed softly before reaching behind her back and holding up the object in question, wrapped in a hankerchief. Dean grinned and started to reach for it, but Bela quickly snatched it away. “Uh-uh,” she said with a smirk. “I don’t do things for free. You want it, you’ll have to work for it.”
“And how would I do that exactly?” he asked, the grin still on his face as she grabbed his shirt and started pulling him forward. He grinned as he leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and sending them tumbling back onto the bed.
***
When Dean finally finished ‘paying his debt,’ he pulled back from her with a grin, taking the handkerchief in his hands. “So—this’ll work, right?”
“It should.”
“And no bad side effects, no Sam keeling over dead in a week?”
“Nope,” she said with a sigh. “Just what it says on the tin.”
“Good,” he nodded, before leaning in to kiss her again. “When Sam gets pissed, I’ll make sure you get some of the credit.”
“Dean—”
“What, you don’t want it?”
“I don’t want Sam coming after me for doing something for you is what I don’t want.”
“Don’t think I’ll protect you,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her again, and she just shoved him off.
“Go prank your brother already.”
He laughed, before leaning in to press a kiss to her spine. “See you when I get back.”
iii.
“So you got this … jet skiing.”
Hadley looked over the injuries on the soaking wet man who had wandered into get himself patched up after what looked like having lost a fight with a washing machine. A washing machine who had been pissed if she was going to be more specific. She watched him for a moment, but he just glanced up at her again with a smirk.
“Yup. Jet skiing. Nasty sport if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“If you don’t know what you were doing, then why were you doing it?” she asked as she started to stitch up the gash in his arm.
“Well, you can’t hit on a hot doctor if you don’t get yourself injured first,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes before tugging a bit on the floss. “Ow!”
“Hitting on the person administering medical treatment—never a wise choice. You wouldn’t want them to get distracted.”
The patient, John Bonham—who last she checked was the drummer for Zeppelin—just grinned at her as he leaned back on the cot. “Just can’t help myself, sweetheart. It’s been a long time since I had a doctor that was actually my type.”
“And what is your type? Female?”
“No,” he grinned shamelessly. “Also hot.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Well, sit still Casanova.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, leaning back again. “Only if you promise me a first name when this is over.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
John smirked, before leaning back in his chair. “Think I like you already.”
“Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.”
iv.
What it was, whatever they had done, blew a hole in the wall between the worlds. That had been their intention. They wanted to blow the hole so it would suck them out and put them back where they belonged. It was a long shot plan, but they didn’t have a whole lot of other choices. And naturally, as things always seem to turn out when they have no choice, it didn’t work. Instead of blowing them out, it dragged people in.
Stupid magic.
David was sulking, Christopher was drunk, and April was studying these two new arrivals, wondering how exactly she was going to break the news to them. She would appreciate it if the shorter one would stop staring at her legs though.
“Can you please not do that?”
“Sorry, sweetheart?”
“Please stop checking me out like I’m a piece of meat. I’m trying to figure out how best to explain this to you and I can’t do that if you’re just—yeah.”
The guy shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the tree behind him, smirk still on his face. “So what exactly do you need to explain, darlin’?”
“It’s April, actually. My name is April.”
“Right, April. Sorry. I’m Dean, this is Sam. Where the fuck are we?”
“Everworld.”
“Everworld. Is that in America?”
“Try alternate dimension.”
“Alternate dimension. Awesome.” Dean paused for a moment before looking back at her. “So how do we get back?”
“You don’t.”
“We don’t?”
“You don’t.”
Dean was quiet as he processed that, before shaking his head. “Okay. This officially isn’t so cool anymore.”
“Yeah,” April sighed. “That’s what we said.”
“So … what do we do?”
“Well—either of you know how to use a sword?”
“You got to be shitting me.”
v.
Ruby was fairly certain that Dean was going to hate himself in the morning for this, but as far as she was concerned? That was his problem, not hers.
Her back hit the wall and she pulled at the collar of his shirt, wanting to get it off him and on the floor where it belonged. It didn’t take him long to oblige her, and her fingers met warm muscle and skin, gripping at his back as he pulled her away from the wall again and tossed her down on the motel bed.
Clothes were tossed, bodies were pressed together, and there was that familiar push pull friction that both of them knew far better than they would want to admit to. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and with the way Dean was pulling at her, it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was scared, running on empty from the price on his head, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would last. All that mattered now was getting what he needed.
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the bed when it was over. She wouldn’t stay the night, and more to the point she knew that he wouldn’t want her to. But for now, just having the contact was … nice.
vi.
“So this is what you do all the time?” Dean sighed as he leaned back against the headstone that Buffy had just pushed herself up on. “Sit in graveyards and wait for vampires to show up?”
“Yup,” she said with a sigh, trying not to pay attention to the build of the guy with strong shoulders next to her. Dean was another one of those kinds of guys. The guys she would fall for and things wouldn’t work out because she was Buffy and the Slayer, and that kind of responsibility didn’t really lend to a social life. As evidenced by the fact that she spent most of her time hanging out in graveyards. “Such is the life of the Slayer.”
“Usually we’re only in graveyards when we’re dealing with ghosts. Have to salt and burn the bodies,” Dean turned around to face her more. “Don’t you ever, like—go to movies, go out for drinks—”
“You trying to ask me out on a date, Winchester?” she smirked, calling him out on it before he could even finish.
“What? Nah,” he shrugged. “I don’t date.” He paused for a minute, before turning back to her with a smirk. “But if you ever wanted to—”
“Don’t worry—I don’t date either. Unfortunately.”
Dean nodded considering that for a minute, before glancing back to her. “Do you have sex?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, not dating I get. I don’t date either. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have sex.” He turned and gave her an absolutely shameless grin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or smack it off him. “Do you?”
She faltered for a moment, before turning her eyes back to the graveyard. “That’s none of your business.”
“Uh-huh.” The grin didn’t fade. “I’ll wear you down yet, Summers.”
It was probably a bad thing that she was really, really hoping he would.
vii.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Samantha felt Dean wrap his arms around her from behind, and she leaned back into him with a smile. “Just makin’ dinner. Why?”
“Smells good,” he nodded, brushing a kiss against the side of her neck. “Better than whatever I’d be making.”
“You cook just fine,” she said with a smirk as she pushed around the ground beef for the sloppy joe’s. “I like your grilled cheese.”
“And that’s just about all I’m good at,” he laughed. She felt the vibrations of his voice press against her skin and she sighed as she leaned back against him, just enjoying the feel of him being close.
“How long can you stay?”
She felt him lick his lips, the way he always did when he didn’t want to answer the question, before letting out a slow breath. “A week, maybe. I’ve got a job to wrap up, and then I have to move on.”
“That’s a shame,” she sighed. “But at least we got the week, right?”
“Yeah,” he smirked, turning her around so that he could kiss her. “At least we’ve got that.”
viii.
“Angel Investigations, how may we—well, hel-lo there.”
Cordy was leaning over her desk with a wide grin, looking at the two men who had just walked into the hotel. She hadn’t really been looking for anything to do, but when two good-looking guys walk into the office, you perk up and pay attention.
The shorter of the two flashed her a smile, before leaning and resting his elbows on the counter. “Hey, there, sweetheart. Is the boss around?”
“You’re talking to her,” she replied. “Well, one of ‘em.”
“So you’re Angel?”
“What? No. Angel is the broody champion that we keep in the back. I’m Cordelia.”
“So, Cordelia—” And wow if the guy didn’t have a way of saying her name. “—why is the place called ‘Angel Investigations’?”
“He used to be the boss. We did a hostile takeover.”
“Well, I can’t think of a better person to run me out of a job—”
“Dean.”
Cordelia glanced to the tall one with a look that said she really didn’t mind the flirting, but ‘Dean’ took the cue from him and turned back to her with a sigh.
“Right, so—if you wouldn’t mind goin’ to the back and seeing if the ‘broody champion’ is around? Tell him the Winchester brothers are here to see him.”
“I’ll see what I can figure out,” she said with a heavy sigh, before turning to head back into the office.
“Dude. I want a boss like that.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
And don't make Dean start thinking he needs another verse with April.no subject
Oh boy. He really doesn't.no subject
He gets extra angsty when it comes to her.no subject
She wants to know if it's because she won't put out yet.no subject
More along the lines of thinking she's far too good for him.no subject
Well, she's not. She's a killer. She killed her sister, actually.no subject
He doesn't know that.no subject
No, he doesn't. And I don't think she'll be inclined to tell him unless she has to.no subject
Understandable.no subject
no subject