Title: A Bit of Friendly Competition, or, Hungry Like The Wolf
Fandom/Pairing: Sniper x Demoman (same-faction), with a brief appearance by Helen/The Administrator
Notes/Content Warnings: Werewolves/monster boys, brief mention of alcohol, hunting/non-human blood, worksafe slashfic, fluff. Inspired by Luna's “Monsterous Intent” AU.
After the insufferable, stifling cacophony and heat of a Teufort summer day, the cool, eerily silent nights were a welcome reprieve for Mr. Mundy. He sat, long legs dangling over the side of his van, focusing intently through his scope, refusing to move a muscle unless he absolutely had to. Mundy and his lover, a Dr. Tavish DeGroot, were the sole members of Teufort’s Supernatural Hunt & Capture Squad. Due to Mundy’s former profession as a big game hunter, and Tavish’s eerie ability to attract all manner of were, vampire, garuda, jotun, faun, or pixie, Helen had slipped the two of them a nice, healthy bonus whenever something not-quite-mundane came up, so long as they could eliminate it.
And tonight, the prey was Jackalopes. An important data transfer had failed to show up, and Helen had discovered, to her horror, that the wee beasties had gnawed straight through her computer cables. Mundy boasted that even in the dark, he could bring home more prey with his gun than his were-boyfriend could, even with his night-vision and claws. With a wry smile on his jowl, and a mischievous twinkle in his remaining eye, Tavish agreed.
A sole bunny darted out of its hole, sniffed the air, and before Tavish could pounce, immediately slumped to the ground. One shot. Tavish rolled his eye at his partner, who doffed his hat, egging him on. The entire night went on like this, Tavish cursing his hangover, but managing to snag a few kills away from Mundy, whose fist clenched in playful competition. This went on until sunrise, with Mundy’s kills neatly stashed away, arranged in size from horn to tail, while Tavish’s, to be expected, were a bit messier, generally with jaw and claw marks lining the neck, instead of Mundy’s neat little headshots. Helen was impressed, a faint smile causing her gaunt cheeks to crease. She liked that she didn’t even need to encourage the mercs to compete at this point. Mundy was awarded a slightly bigger cut of the check, something he politely thanked her for.
"Wot manner’a witchcraft be yer secret, Mundy? How cannae ye beat a beastie wif night vision?"
"I told ye, Tav. It’s me good hearin’. I don’t need ta see when I’ve got these beauties. Years in th’ bush’ll do that to ya. Creepy crawlies the size of your frickin’ ‘ead’ll come crawlin’ up yer arm in ya sleep, ‘less ya pay attention."
"Ach, thas’ shite, Mundy, and ye know it. The magic in me blood’s made me ears jus’ as good as yours. Hell, even better, I’ll bet ye. Animals’ve got the better senses."
"I’d bet ya, Tav, but th’ last time ya bet me, I beatcha by one bloody rabbit. That’s wotcha get fer goin’ up against me wif a bloody ‘angover."
Tavish scowled, but he knew it was true. Besides, he could never stay mad at the man. The Scotsman yanked his Australian-New Zealander lover by the vest into a playful kiss. “I love ya, man.”
"Love ya too, mate." Mundy scratched the were behind the ears affectionately, rubbing his belly underneath his protective vest. Even if Helen didn’t recognize Tavish’s hard work, Mundy sure as hell did.
Four Daughters (Medic x MTF Heavy)
(I wanted to take a shot at writing a transgender fic. I don't think Heavy is trans in canon, but I thought it would be interesting to have a biologically male character, one who who embodies masculinity, to actually see themselves as female.)
Zhanna was getting married. Much care had been taken to tailor her wedding to her and Jane’s specifications, down to little bowties for each and every raccoon, and Misha should have been excited. But something clicked inside of him, something he had been aggressively trying to deny for decades. He saw the way his mother and sisters fit into their dresses, and how beautiful they looked, agonizing over their makeup, their hair, while he stuffed himself into an old, ill-fitting suit. That night, he couldn’t sleep.
Heavy generally slept like a baby, unless something was terribly wrong. Even his breathing sounded off, labored, as if a heavy weight was lying on top of it. There was a shuffling of the mattress as Medic rolled over, lightly shaking Heavy’s shoulder. He was whispering to himself, over and over. Whispering that he was a big, strong, giant man.
“Are you alright?”
“It is hard to say, Doktor. I cannot explain. It hurts. Is not so much like bullet holes. Different.”
“Interesting. Vhat for?”
“I am acting like baby. Seeing sisters in dresses. I should be happy, proud of Zhanna. And I am. The most proud I can be, but…”
“But vhat? If it is a gown you desire, or pretty panties, I could alvays give you one. I zhink you’d look qvite cute in a lacy ensemble.”
“Is alright, doktor. I…it would not be the same. What is underneath would not be the same.” Heavy ran his hand over his arm, feeling like a little of the weight had finally lifted. This was the body of the idealized man. He should be happy. Was that what was wrong? Could the wrong person have received another’s ideal form? There was a painful, agonizingly long silence. Medic put two and two together.
“Schatz, perhaps your papa really gave the vorld four daughters. You just didn’t realize it until now. Is zhat correct?”
“Oh my God.”
“I can have zhe correct chemicals shipped vithin a week. Und you know zhe best surgeon in town. If anyone sees my beautiful wife as a man, I gut zhem. Alright? Go to bed, liebling.”
Wife. That sounded nice. Even if she were still bald, she was a woman. Her. She. It finally felt right.
Oops, forgot to log in there.
I think this is the only transsexual Heavy I've ever seen written, and written thoughtfully at that! Well done. I especially appreciated the line "What is underneath would not be the same", since this observes that transsexualism isn't about clothes. I also liked how you described Heavy's breathing using the simile "as if a heavy weight was lying on top of it", and appealed to the senses with "There was a shuffling of the mattress".
There's a small thing about this fic which reads a little awkwardly to me: the speed at which Medic concludes that Heavy is a woman, and immediately suggests preparing hormones and surgery. I'm not sure he necessarily had enough information to go on to determine that a) Heavy is transsexual, and b) she wanted hormones and surgery. If he already had suspicions (which he might well, given how smoothly he took it), a paragraph or two focusing on what he's noticed in the past would improve the cohesion of the story.
Overall, it's incredibly refreshing to see a story which acknowledges that being a human tank (or having any other physical shape, for that matter) doesn't disqualify a person from being trans. Thankyou for writing!
Same (except for the one you drew me, heh-- thanks again). I like adding detail that makes you feel like you're there, too. When I'm anxious, I feel like someone's sitting on top of me, so I drew from that.
I'm still dealing with my own gender and what I may or may not be, so I apologize that the conclusion wraps up too neatly. Wishful thinking, maybe.
And thank you! It bugs me a little when trans headcanons are limited to only characters that only seem "the most likely to pass", or assuming "feminine" traits in a man or "masculine" traits in a woman automatically = trans.
Oh dip! Meda I didn't know you wrote fanfic! I like it :D