Hello my darlings,

I am the current mastermind behind the TF2chan Archive site that will house our fanfiction and fanart of the past. I need your help. This is a community effort.

I need any of you who have edited your fanart and fanfiction to email me the revised copies of said fanart and fanfiction so we can have an up-to-date posting of your work. Please include the name of fanfiction and your chan name when doing so, in order for me to identify who you are.

Email is available above. I'll gladly answer questions and concerns as well. The site is to-be-announced at this moment. Cheers.

Okay, this has been sitting around waiting to be posted long enough.
Because drawing Pyro and Engineer being bros wasn't enough. Sorry; this'll probably be an ongoing too.

Thanks to FiveTail for being an angel and beta-ing this for me. Hope y'all enjoy it.

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If he'd been working on the new sentry model that morning like he was supposed to, he probably never would've heard the knock.

As it was, he had a dispenser on the ground, and was frowning silently at the coils and compressors laid bare, so it only took about a minute of the occasional rapping for him to notice that he was being hailed.

"What the heck d'ya want?" he hollered over his shoulder. An incoherent response came through the heavy steel door of his workshop and the Engineer gave a heavy sigh as he hoisted himself up. He opened the door to find the Pyro standing there uncertainly , cradling his flamethrower as if it were an injured pet.

"Hreh. Srry tt b'thrr yhh, bhh'..." He trailed off, then held the weapon up to Engineer, almost shy. The pilot light was off and the gas canister was missing. "Ht'zh bh'rr'kkn."

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>>	Scrunchy 10/08/29(Sun)17:15 No. 9321 You had me at "hazmat-suited Donald Duck". Moar please.

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Omgrun 10/08/29(Sun)22:08 No. 9325 File 128314490786.jpg - (84.67KB , 1024x1024 , holmes in the future.jpg ) Oh jeez. Hatgirl, you keep giving me reasons to adore you. This is so fucking well written. I love your pyro "accent" where it's just barely readable, but if you spent a while, you can still figure it out. You must wake up and piss excellence in the morning. I will definitely be following.

>>	Eximplode 10/09/09(Thu)10:09 No. 9396 I don't often comment on other people fics (just because I rarely have anything to say), but I really love the little interactions between your Pyro and Engineer. I'd love to see more~

Ahaha what is this, Kievan is writing again?

Thanks to LR for being a fantastic beta!

(Also the picture belongs to her, kind of what inspired this entire thing.)

<><><>

Army Dreamers

It's raining in Sawmill, but all that means for Soldier is that it's harder to dig. Every time he lifts a shovelful of dirt out of the ground, water seeps in, inviting mud, and the hole collapses, so that by the third hour of digging the only evidence to his work are the blisters forming along the grooves in his palms. He scowls. There's no way he can make a proper hole with the rain constantly pouring from the sky, but he knows that by the time he waits for it to stop they'll have left this infernal wet base behind. They'll be on their way to some new territory that needs capturing or defending, and as he picks up the shovel again he can only hope that at least this new base is goddamn dry.

<>

When they first got to Sawmill the rain was a welcome relief. They'd been stationed at Badlands for almost a month, the heat and dryness sucking the life and energy out of everyone; even Scout started slowing down a bit near the end of the second week, downing more Bonk! than the supply trains could keep up with. Soldier remembers how surprised the entire team had been when, in the middle of a battle here, the skies opened up on them, sticking their clothes to them, cooling the muzzles of their guns and launchers, cooling the heat of battle, their rage, them. Even the Scouts, who had by that point abandoned guns and bats and were rolling around in the dirt tearing at whatever they could, regardless of whether it belonged to their enemy or not, stopped and unwound themselves from each other's legs and arms and teeth to hold their bandaged palms to the sky and yell rain, rain, rain, the first call in confusion, the second in elation, the third in joy. Soldier had turned the corner to see them both jumping up and down in the puddles, splashing mud onto bruises and scrapes, the coolness of the weather making goosebumps on both their arms. RED's Scout slipped and crashed into BLU's. They

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I brought this over to workshop and got little response, but I've gotten some feedback and have corrected as best I could without letting my hyper-critical self mutilate the story too much.

All credit for the idea goes to shalala because of the amazing art they made that inspired this idea.

Anyways enjoy, and I apologize for any grammar mistakes that remain.




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It was just another assassination mission. I’ve done them countless times before, you sneak into the enemy base, find your target, and eliminate them. Granted respawn takes most of the fun out of it, but it’s always fun to watch your targets jump at little noises behind them; it’s mostly a move of dominance, to let them know who’s boss, to let them know never to cross you because you could be anywhere at any time to take them out. It was just a routine at this point, the same thing over and over again whenever there were new transfers for the enemy base.

I was perhaps the only person on my own base that had been there for more then a few months, I knew both buildings front to back, a fact I never bothered to divulge to my teammates at the time. After all why ruin my fun by revealing my methods to people who wouldn’t even be around long enough to admire them? Besides I was the only one capable of implementing such things properly and with all the usual grace and savoir faire that my class requires. Of course it helped to have the blueprints to the enemy base, who knew there were walkways behind the walls? Easy access for someone like myself to make quick work of my target, it had taken quite some practice but I had memorized where the various walkways led. I knew the best way to get to the various rooms and even the personal bedrooms of the enemy. Had I the necessary equipment and the voyeuristic tendencies, I could easily have cameras set up, no doubt plenty of blackmail material to be had.

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It's been a while since I wrote anything, but here it is, my first fanfic for TF2. Thanks to Charon and Rev for beta-ing for me, but if anyone else has any concrit or comments then I'm striving to improve.

(Oh, and despite the title...this isn't the scary nightmare fuel I pitched in the chat a while back. This is more lighthearted but may get slightly serious later on.)

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“Alert! The control point is being contested!”

The announcer's point was moot before the last word had even left her lips. Ankle-deep in what remained of the BLU Heavy blood, the RED Soldier admired the glorious splatter on his shovel's blade. “Not today, maggots.” he chuckled, spitting over the side of the single, central control point at Nucleus.

The harmonious 'crack' of breaking bones, somewhere far below him, was his reward. If he looked down he could see the pipes had caught the hapless BLU Medic's body, leaving the dead Kraut to dangle like a discarded sock until respawn picked him up after the round. Arena. God, he loved it. He loved the intensity of it, the sheer hot-blooded desperation of always being moments between a few hours of oblivion or a glorious blood-stained victory...

“AUGH!” Something taking a nick out of his ear was enough to snap Soldier back to reality. His fingers touching blood that wasn't a filthy BLU's, he looked in every direction for his attacker. Another 'whoosh' – the other ear this time – and up on a nearby balcony, the BLU Sniper managed to choke out a scream before toppling backwards comically, an arrow sticking out of his left eye socket.

“What the bloody hell are you doin', standin' around like a bleedin' statue!? Stop playin' with yerself and keep movin'!”

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Some Soldier and Engineer-centric silliness for Kilo. : )

I bounced around a lot of different versions of this, but I think what I've finally settled on was the best course of action. Sorry that this might seem so short, but I just wanted to get the first part out for now. I haven't decided whether or not to actually make Engie and Soldier gay in this fic, but I might just leave it ambiguous. Kudos to Magellan for beta-ing for me.

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"The whole day?"

"The whole day, pardner."

Soldier sighed as he slid the unfastened, much-too-large helmet from his head. He carefully sat it on the nearby work bench, savoring each cold dent and scrape in its design underneath his fingers. It was like lowering a loved one into a grave.

"Hey now Solly, it ain't the end of the world," Engineer encouraged. Soldier's furrowed eyebrows and sagging frown inflicted a tinge of guilt. The BLU commando still stared intently at the combat helmet. "Now put it on." Engineer extended his arm, offering his teammate a white ten gallon hat. Soldier rotated away from the bench, glancing back towards his helmet several times as if it might happily come to life. The commando gulped loudly as he outstretched his hand and plucked it apprehensively from his teammate. Soldier barely looked at it before stuffing it onto his head, concealing his eyes. Engineer cocked his eyebrow and briefly pondered how the hat would have been too large for him.

"There, happy?" Soldier growled. Engineer scratched his stubbly chin with his finger.

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>>7192

Picking up from where we left off. Sorry this part took so long, I ended up getting stuck and Marty helped out with some ideas on how exactly I should proceed. This story is probably going to be much, much longer than I originally intended.

And to the Anon in the last thread that mentioned what Jane Doe actually means... yes. I know that. I just think it's funny that it's not a poorly picked out pseudonym like most people would think when hearing him say it, but his actual name. Let me have my fun.

Morrie, I hope you don't mind that I used one of your Gmods and cropped it for the OP image. It just fit.

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“You’re too soft on her, Engie.”

“You think so?”

“’Course I do,” said Soldier, tapping his plastic spade against the surface of the table. Most everybody else was wrapped up in their own conversations; Spy took his seat over by Heavy and Medic, talking with them about Baroque composers, and Demoman and Scout were joined by Sniper, discussing films. Engineer was the only one really willing to talk with Soldier. “She’s spoiled, Engie. You’re treating her with kid gloves. It’s no proper way to raise a child.”

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Hurr hurr. I've always been bad with opening chapters and leading into the main story, so please bear with me on this part. I don't have a beta, so if anyone would maybe want to for future chapters I'd be thrilled to death!
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It wasn’t a secret to anyone that the Blu medic hated fighting- Especially to the team’s Soldier who took it as a chance to insult him, calling him a “communist pansy” whenever the chance arose. It wasn’t a secret that the medic would do anything to avoid it, preferring to stick to healing his teammates instead, as interesting as the carnage was. Besides, it was their job to kill and his to heal. When he had originally signed up, he had been well aware of the fact that at one point or another he eventually would have to take a man’s life, but he was desperate for money at the time and this just happened to be a well-paying job.

It wasn’t all bad though. He had made a few friends along the way- Mostly just the Heavy Weapon’s Guy. The others were tolerable, just ignorant and obnoxious. But of course if he wanted to excel, they all had to work together as a team.

So that’s what he did. He was commissioned at the Granary base, and had decided to heal the Heavy as he crossed into the offensive line that day. It had seemed like a good idea at first; The man was an excellent fighter and made it a priority to protect him. But the Red soldier proved to be too much for the man, exploding him into what seemed to be a hundred gooey bits and pieces with a single rocket. Medic cursed silently under his breath. His team was nowhere in sight and the soldier was slowly advancing towards him with a wicked grin on his face. “Looks like your butt buddy is dead. Why don’t you just stand there and let me explode you? I’ll be gentle, I swear!” He began loading more rockets into his launcher.

Medic panicked and backed himself against a wall. He was stuck here alone with this… gorilla of a man and where was his team? They should have been here by now. He pulled out his newly-acquired Blutsauger and aimed it at the armed man. Honestly, he had no interest in actually firing the damned thing.

“Migh

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Hey, guys! It's about time I contributed, since I've been lurking for roughly forever. This is the first fic I've written in literally years, so bear with me, haha. It is based loosely on "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," obvs, and was inspired by one of Mayra's beautiful beautiful arts, as seen to the left.

'Kay uh, ON WITH THE FIC!

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The RED Engineer was nothing if not dedicated to supporting his team. He had a mean streak, true, and was a scary sonuvabitch towards the BLUs, but toward his own teammates he was a real gent. He worked with them, moving his gear around when appropriate and building whatever was needed to keep everyone up and running and in the fight. When one of them died despite his attempts to help, he always felt a bit of guilt, like he could have done more, like he could have worked a little more urgently on that dispenser or had that sentry upgraded and ready so the ambushing BLUs wouldn’t have been able to get the jump on his poor deceased teammates, but that was how it went on a battlefield. He always moved on.

One day on the battlefield, a new RED Scout – freshly recruited and cocky, as most Scouts seemed to be – came rounding a corner and nearly barreling into poor Engineer. He was hollering and shouting about needing a dispenser, and though he didn’t seem hurt, the Engineer was alarmed enough by his tone that he dropped down his toolbox and got to work. They were a bit far back for the dispenser to be helpful, but well, he could move it up later. Anyway, he still felt bad about the death of the Scout that this one had replaced, so he wanted to help if he could. Once the machine was built, however, the Scout simply laughed and said, in a smug and teasing tone, “Thanks, Hardhat.” He ran off without even using the machine.

The next day, it happened again. Engineer was just starting to upgrade a sentry he had built when he heard the Scout shrieking and screaming as he approached. “Needa dispensah heah! Needa dispensah heah!” It got louder as the boy got closer, and Engineer, figuring that maybe this time it was actually needed, hastened to get building. When the Scout arrived, the

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I tried writing fan fiction. (Note: this was written before the NOPE thing.) MANY THANKS to PerryJ for translation and Eleison for beta-ing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jane didn’t like the fact that he had to wear his new uniform that day. He was just meeting his colleagues, not actually fighting. He figured that, sure, this was how they would be seeing him for the most part, but the heavy flak jacket and large, clunky boots were just uncomfortable. He didn’t dress himself like this when he went on tour in Poland twenty years ago, and he was able to fight just fine. Of course, not much fighting had actually happened. He sighed and pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he picked up the oversized helmet and walked towards the door. He figured that if these people had made a business out of fighting, they might have an idea about what the hell they were doing.

The man opened the door to the long hallway that he had been led through minutes earlier. The short woman with glasses that had escorted him was standing against the opposite wall, waiting for him.

“Are you ready, Mr. Doe?” she asked him, taking a few steps from the wall.

“Yeah, sure. Do I have to wear this thing?” Jane asked gruffly, holding up the helmet.

“Well, it’s a part of your uniform that you’ll be wearing in battle. It would be a good thing for you to get used to it,” she said, and gestured down the hall. “The others are in a waiting room just down this way.”

Jane put the helmet on his head and began walking down the hallway, the woman following at his side. He could hardly see with the thing on. His mind was busy, wondering what kind of people he could expect to meet in the waiting room. As he recalled, the contract had stated that he would be fighting amongst a team of nine people, each with their own specialty. Since it was written specifically for him, a Soldier, it didn’t say what exactly their jobs were. It had only mentioned that he was part of the Offensive unit, and that his job involved taking down the enemy’s Offensive and Defensive units, whilst being assisted by both Supportive and other Offensive members of his own team. The

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>>	Phyi 10/08/22(Sun)20:41 No. 9271 I'm loving this fic, keep it up! :D

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HatGirl 10/08/22(Sun)22:25 No. 9274 >>9231 >Cajun Pyro ...Go on. This is fantastic. Not gonna lie, I'm always fascinated by any sort of "early Team"-type stuff, and this is just one heckuva good start. Opening with Soldier's point of view works well, and having him actually be sane but still seem like Soldier...that's a tricky line to walk, and you do it nicely, I think. He may be a bit calm, but then, there's no battle going on. Interesting bit with Medic having a poor grasp on English (I'd always figure on it being Heavy, but then Heavy's first lines are so delightful, so I'm glad it's Medic stuck with a translator). And it's a nice set-up, doing each installment from a different point of view. Or, at least, I assume that's what you're doing. But either way, I like it. You've got a nice, distinctive voice for Soldier and Scout both, and it's interesting, Scout's reason for automatically hating Soldier. Nicely done. Moar please, yes?

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several bears 10/09/04(Sat)16:54 No. 9367 File 128364444995.png - (352.84KB , 639x361 , ISHIBASHISOUKA.png ) >>9252 >>9253 >>9255 >>9265 >>9271 AHH, THANK YOU ALL. I'm working on Chapter 3 right now, but I'm working very slowly for some reason. It should be done sometime this week. >>9274 Ahaha, I didn't think that anyone would be particularly interested in Cajun Pyro, but I guess that I was wrong. I am in fact going to have every chapter be told from someone else's POV, because I'm a masochist like that. also >There were group showers, a locker room, a large kitchen, and everything else the building had to offer. This is why you don't submit writings when you are drunk and unable to notice obvious mistakes. >A week. You have one week to report back here for the mission. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.