![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Hunter’s Discount
Fandom: SPN
Characters: Dean W.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary: Witten for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_las on the prompt that we needed to write from a first person POV. I’m waiting to see what the one negative review it received, but I’m happy that it only got one. It’s outside POV and it a play on one of my most hated Mary Sue devices: the Mary Sue knows the boys are hunters just by glancing at them. I’m not sure I pulled it off and, as usual, the 1000 word limit was an issue with me.
The car, a big black gunboat that had to be older than me, pulled into the open space in front of the office door. I put down my calculus book and watched the car as it sat in the semi-darkness. The light over the door didn’t toss enough light on it to get a clear view inside. Energy efficient bulbs may save money but they didn’t work well in the cold. It may have only been 11 pm, but it was well below freezing already. The exhaust from the car blew forward as the wind kicked up and I could see two figures moving around in the front seat. The license plate said that they were from out of state.
I didn’t have them pegged as hunters until the driver stepped out of the car. Most hunters come with big trucks loaded down with everything they needed to live out of a hotel room for a week or two. This car looked like it belonged in a classic car show, not driving down the back roads of Wisconsin. Then the driver’s door opened and he stepped out: Short cropped hair, worn leather jacket, tattered blue jeans that ended in scuffed work boots. He might not have been the average picture of a hunter, but the way held himself, the way he casually tipped his collar up against the biting November winds, the way he took a moment to take stock of the world around him, I grew up with hunters, I could recognize them.
I moved to the main desk as he walked through the door, the soft dinging of the bell drowned out by the wail of the wind. I glanced over at the coffee pot sitting off to the side, trying to remember how long ago I had made that last pot. It didn’t matter. This late at night it just had to be hot and semi-liquid.
He crossed the room in quick confident strides and gave me a quick nod as he pulled out his wallet. “One room.” His voice was low and slightly husky and I tried hard not to stare into his remarkably green eyes.
“Sure thing,” I said. “How long will you be staying?” I made a show of looking at the ledger even though I knew we had three rooms free. Fred always stressed that we needed to look professional. Besides, I needed something to look at other than him. My grandmother always told me it was impolite to stare. Well, to stare openly, at least.
“I’ll pay for a week in advance,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”
I nodded, glad for the first time that I was working all week. “I’ll put you in Room 17. It’s the one at the far end.” I flipped the register around for him to sign. “Two queen beds, mini-fridge, local calls are free. It has the best heater.”
He smiled at that, a smile that I’m sure could melt steel. “Thanks. My old girl’s a good car but she doesn’t always heat the way she should.”
I smiled back, sure that I looked like a proper grinning fool, but not caring. “That will be $32 a night, plus the government’s share…” I punched it into the register as I spoke. “And, of course, you get the hunter’s discount.”
“What?”
There was a hard edge to his voice when he spoke and I froze in mid-calculation. I ran back over what I had said, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. “$32 a night is the standard rate. It’s the lowest in town.” I looked up into the green eyes that looked so enticing a moment ago and now were hard and menacing. I was suddenly aware of how very alone I was. I forced a smile. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the taxes. Ever since we got this new Governor—“
“No.” He cut me off in mid-ramble. “You have a discount for Hunters?” He was very still, almost poised, the way very angry people behaved when they were forcing themselves to be calm.
It took me a moment to catch up. “Yes. We’ve always done that.” People usually didn’t get angry over saving money.
“How do you know we’re Hunters?”
Normally I would have pointed out that it was obvious, but I was a little too frightened to do that. “Well, I guess I didn’t know for sure. That’s why Fred – that’s my boss – he likes us to write down the license number on the registration, just to be sure.”
He continued to stare at me, his expression slight less menacing and a bit more confused. “License number?”
Suddenly it dawned on me. “Oh don’t worry if you haven’t gotten one yet.” I assured him. “Fred’s Bait Shop will open at four tomorrow and you can get your license then.” I went back to calculating the room rate. “I’ll discount anyway. Just don’t set foot out in the forest without that license. The Game Warden will nail you for sure.” I reached over and grabbed a copy of the Wisconsin Hunting Regulations from the pile next to the register. “Just in case you don’t have one.” I held it out for him. “They changed some of the reg on whitetails this year, so you need to be up-to-date.”
He stared at it for a moment, as if it was some alien creature. Then he laughed and ran his hand over his face. “Hunter’s discount. Right.” He took the regs and smiled at me again. I suddenly felt like I was missing a joke somewhere. “Right. Thanks. I’ll be sure to read it through.”
I took the cash he handed over and smiled back at him, chalking up his odd behavior to the lateness of the hour. He took room key and headed out the door, pausing to toss me another 1000-watt smile. I waved at him like a fool and decided that weird didn’t matter when you were that cute.
~*~*~*~
LAS Comments:
Worst Written Story Reason: This story had several glaring errors in grammar and spelling. These errors made it difficult to read smoothly through the story. Also, the characterization was a little difficult for me to believe. I tried to picture Dean being mistaken for a game hunter, and I just couldn't do it. As many as I have seen, they don't wear leather (inclement weather is so common while hunting), camouflage is much more common. Game hunters are so often incredibly boisterous, and so very, very proud of their weapons. There are several other reasons that the connection between Dean and deer hunter just doesn't make sense to me. The imagery was very good though. I could really picture how cold the night was.
These stories have to be posted without a beta/editor and I usually don't get them done much before the deadline. I always have some errors without a beta. This is why everyone (but especially I) should have an editor.
As for the second part of the comment -- I understand where the comment comes from. I live in a world of hunters, from a family of hunters and they come in all shapes and sizes. My fear was that someone would point out that Dean didn't have a stitch of blaze orange on him... but the balze orange regulation is more of a mid-west thing. And really, Wisconsin is a different animal in most cases. Still, this comment is the reason I was afraid that this fic could have been voted off. That and the fact that most people on LJ don't have, ah, positive views of outdoorsmen. *shrug* It was the chance I took writing the way I did. If I would have had more words, I could have played with the concept. It may not have made a difference, though.
I was thrilled with the compliment, though. I like writing imagery and atmosphere and I'm glad that it came through. I'm sad that I had to cut as much of the imagery as I did to get the fic in the word limit. It was much colder and the hotel was much better defined in my first draft.
Fandom: SPN
Characters: Dean W.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1000
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary: Witten for
spn_las on the prompt that we needed to write from a first person POV. I’m waiting to see what the one negative review it received, but I’m happy that it only got one. It’s outside POV and it a play on one of my most hated Mary Sue devices: the Mary Sue knows the boys are hunters just by glancing at them. I’m not sure I pulled it off and, as usual, the 1000 word limit was an issue with me.The car, a big black gunboat that had to be older than me, pulled into the open space in front of the office door. I put down my calculus book and watched the car as it sat in the semi-darkness. The light over the door didn’t toss enough light on it to get a clear view inside. Energy efficient bulbs may save money but they didn’t work well in the cold. It may have only been 11 pm, but it was well below freezing already. The exhaust from the car blew forward as the wind kicked up and I could see two figures moving around in the front seat. The license plate said that they were from out of state.
I didn’t have them pegged as hunters until the driver stepped out of the car. Most hunters come with big trucks loaded down with everything they needed to live out of a hotel room for a week or two. This car looked like it belonged in a classic car show, not driving down the back roads of Wisconsin. Then the driver’s door opened and he stepped out: Short cropped hair, worn leather jacket, tattered blue jeans that ended in scuffed work boots. He might not have been the average picture of a hunter, but the way held himself, the way he casually tipped his collar up against the biting November winds, the way he took a moment to take stock of the world around him, I grew up with hunters, I could recognize them.
I moved to the main desk as he walked through the door, the soft dinging of the bell drowned out by the wail of the wind. I glanced over at the coffee pot sitting off to the side, trying to remember how long ago I had made that last pot. It didn’t matter. This late at night it just had to be hot and semi-liquid.
He crossed the room in quick confident strides and gave me a quick nod as he pulled out his wallet. “One room.” His voice was low and slightly husky and I tried hard not to stare into his remarkably green eyes.
“Sure thing,” I said. “How long will you be staying?” I made a show of looking at the ledger even though I knew we had three rooms free. Fred always stressed that we needed to look professional. Besides, I needed something to look at other than him. My grandmother always told me it was impolite to stare. Well, to stare openly, at least.
“I’ll pay for a week in advance,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”
I nodded, glad for the first time that I was working all week. “I’ll put you in Room 17. It’s the one at the far end.” I flipped the register around for him to sign. “Two queen beds, mini-fridge, local calls are free. It has the best heater.”
He smiled at that, a smile that I’m sure could melt steel. “Thanks. My old girl’s a good car but she doesn’t always heat the way she should.”
I smiled back, sure that I looked like a proper grinning fool, but not caring. “That will be $32 a night, plus the government’s share…” I punched it into the register as I spoke. “And, of course, you get the hunter’s discount.”
“What?”
There was a hard edge to his voice when he spoke and I froze in mid-calculation. I ran back over what I had said, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. “$32 a night is the standard rate. It’s the lowest in town.” I looked up into the green eyes that looked so enticing a moment ago and now were hard and menacing. I was suddenly aware of how very alone I was. I forced a smile. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the taxes. Ever since we got this new Governor—“
“No.” He cut me off in mid-ramble. “You have a discount for Hunters?” He was very still, almost poised, the way very angry people behaved when they were forcing themselves to be calm.
It took me a moment to catch up. “Yes. We’ve always done that.” People usually didn’t get angry over saving money.
“How do you know we’re Hunters?”
Normally I would have pointed out that it was obvious, but I was a little too frightened to do that. “Well, I guess I didn’t know for sure. That’s why Fred – that’s my boss – he likes us to write down the license number on the registration, just to be sure.”
He continued to stare at me, his expression slight less menacing and a bit more confused. “License number?”
Suddenly it dawned on me. “Oh don’t worry if you haven’t gotten one yet.” I assured him. “Fred’s Bait Shop will open at four tomorrow and you can get your license then.” I went back to calculating the room rate. “I’ll discount anyway. Just don’t set foot out in the forest without that license. The Game Warden will nail you for sure.” I reached over and grabbed a copy of the Wisconsin Hunting Regulations from the pile next to the register. “Just in case you don’t have one.” I held it out for him. “They changed some of the reg on whitetails this year, so you need to be up-to-date.”
He stared at it for a moment, as if it was some alien creature. Then he laughed and ran his hand over his face. “Hunter’s discount. Right.” He took the regs and smiled at me again. I suddenly felt like I was missing a joke somewhere. “Right. Thanks. I’ll be sure to read it through.”
I took the cash he handed over and smiled back at him, chalking up his odd behavior to the lateness of the hour. He took room key and headed out the door, pausing to toss me another 1000-watt smile. I waved at him like a fool and decided that weird didn’t matter when you were that cute.
~*~*~*~
LAS Comments:
Worst Written Story Reason: This story had several glaring errors in grammar and spelling. These errors made it difficult to read smoothly through the story. Also, the characterization was a little difficult for me to believe. I tried to picture Dean being mistaken for a game hunter, and I just couldn't do it. As many as I have seen, they don't wear leather (inclement weather is so common while hunting), camouflage is much more common. Game hunters are so often incredibly boisterous, and so very, very proud of their weapons. There are several other reasons that the connection between Dean and deer hunter just doesn't make sense to me. The imagery was very good though. I could really picture how cold the night was.
These stories have to be posted without a beta/editor and I usually don't get them done much before the deadline. I always have some errors without a beta. This is why everyone (but especially I) should have an editor.
As for the second part of the comment -- I understand where the comment comes from. I live in a world of hunters, from a family of hunters and they come in all shapes and sizes. My fear was that someone would point out that Dean didn't have a stitch of blaze orange on him... but the balze orange regulation is more of a mid-west thing. And really, Wisconsin is a different animal in most cases. Still, this comment is the reason I was afraid that this fic could have been voted off. That and the fact that most people on LJ don't have, ah, positive views of outdoorsmen. *shrug* It was the chance I took writing the way I did. If I would have had more words, I could have played with the concept. It may not have made a difference, though.
I was thrilled with the compliment, though. I like writing imagery and atmosphere and I'm glad that it came through. I'm sad that I had to cut as much of the imagery as I did to get the fic in the word limit. It was much colder and the hotel was much better defined in my first draft.
