#SNIPERSPY

[howdylogan]

Day 9: fighting/bloody suit

fighting? more like flirting

[evangelina830]

How romantic

[silentseaships]

very messy late night sketch...

[currrsy]

rain

[drawingcrows]

sniperspy (well mostly spy) doodles

[garrette-amorette]

Finally adjusted to digital, though not planning to color them. Im uploading more art soon, i dont know if theres comments but ask me if you guys want a comic ^^

[avian-connoisseur]

Have ya'll been on tf2twt lately.

[mysiblingsslimyface]

They don't even need seven whole minutes; only one of them is gonna walk out alive in two.

Original 👇

[zlaurent]

Pearl groove

(Kinda cubist)

[chezaporisulki]

Family photo.

Original below

They are husbands btw

[octogay-knock]

stupid bloody spy...

[lyricalt]

[tf2] stealing a plane

For fic_promptly's theme, which is delightfully [ CRIME ]. Prompt: stealing Rating: G Ship: sniperspy Note: haha, i've always wondered how Spy knew about Sniper knowing how to steal AND fly a plane from the comic. He must've had a previous experience. :')

-------

When their getaway truck suddenly goes up in flames, Spy begins to seriously reconsider his stance on taking up non-solo missions outside his usual day job at RED. He really isn’t meant for teaming up so closely like this. Not in his spare time. No matter how good the money or the company. 

Spy reaches into his pocket for a cigarette, but it seems to be the theme of the day that he comes up short. He inhales, folds his arms, and deliberates how good his Italian leather shoes are for traversing the rocky hills of—his mind immediately redacts that minor detail, for his ego’s sake. What a fucking mess. 

“I believe the nearest town is thirty kilometers west,” Spy says, still staring out at the half-empty airfield. 

Good company happens to come in the form of Sniper hauling an assortment of stolen items in a duffle bag. Spy had caught him snatching trinkets and other useless items from several offices and bodies during their two-man assault. There should be plenty of other things to loot from the mercenary base but Spy can’t find himself to be too critical when Sniper tosses him a carton of cigarettes. 

Spy lights up using the exploded truck. At the first hit of nicotine, his optimism about the situation improves by a tiny bit. Besides, anything worth stealing is likely too heavy to carry. If Spy can make it out with a pack of cigarettes and enough will power to collect his payment by the end of the day then he should be grateful.

Sniper looks to be in good spirits despite the lack of transportation. Of course, his boots are meant for hiking. He gives Spy a sidelong glance before he continues walking towards the runway.

“Well, shame about the truck,” Sniper says then points to one of the mercenary planes, “Guess we’ll have to try out them birds over there.”

At first, Spy doesn’t understand what Sniper means. He looks to see where Sniper is pointing. “Don’t be ridiculous. That can’t fit in your bag.”

Sniper ignores him, breaking into a light jog to get a closer look at one of the fighter jets. Spy has no choice but to follow after him. They inspect the fighter jet together—Spy, of course, has no idea what they’re looking for, but when Sniper’s face brightens by a fraction, Spy stops mid-drag.

“Ah. A Dassault Mirage…” Sniper trails off, unsure. He pats the underbelly of the jet. For some reason, he glances at Spy for some clarification.

Similarly, Spy is feeling conflicted about Sniper knowing French military aircraft details, but he’s also familiar with them. At least enough to recognize the more modern designs. “...Cinq.”

“Five! That’s right,” Sniper says, satisfied, and hands Spy the duffle bag so that he can scramble up the wing of the Dassault Mirage.

Spy slowly turns his head to look up at Sniper. “You can fly that? Why didn’t I know this?”

“Erm, I suppose I can try the Druine over there, but I ain’t too familiar with the controls,” Sniper explains, badly. There’s the sound of kicking. Spy can only assume Sniper is trying to open the cockpit using the typical Australian technique of brute force.

“No. I mean—you’re a pilot?” Spy gives the duffle bag a small frown of distaste. There’s a bobble head figurine peeking out from one of the pockets. He readjusts his grip in a temporary underhand hold that would imply that he isn’t going to be responsible for it. The bag is wretchedly heavy. It feels like Sniper had looted several tomes rather than office supplies.

Sniper lets out a short laugh. “Pilot? Nah, not by a longshot. I can fly as well as I can work one of Heavy’s miniguns.”

“And what does that mean exactly?”

“Meaning I get the general concept. Load, aim, pull trigger. Flip some switches, wiggle the joystick, take off.”

“Ah, so no better than what I can do,” Spy says dryly.

“Nuh-uh. I’ve actually flown,” Sniper says, peering down at Spy with a grin. “And we’re in luck. It’s a Mirage 5D. Two seater.”

“What a shame. I was hoping to ride in your lap.”

“Nah. I’d have to ride in yours,” Sniper says, making grabby hands for the duffle bag. “Can’t reach the controls with you in the way.”

Spy scoffs but pushes the duffle bag up for Sniper to take. A second later, Sniper’s hand reaches out for Spy.

“Dashed your dreams of joining the mile high club, eh?” Sniper asks with a knowing glint in his eye.

Spy takes Sniper’s hand. “I would like to clarify that my card to that particular club has already been stamped. Multiple times.”

“Yowch,” Sniper replies, hauling Spy up on the wing with a little too much strength. ”Well, I ain’t got a club card. You’re gonna have to invite me later, yeah?”

Spy bumps against his chest, and Sniper wraps an arm around his waist to steady him. Quite unnecessary, but Spy allows it before they both climb into the cockpit; Sniper up front and him in the back. Much to his annoyance, the duffle bag of stolen goods gets placed in his lap. Spy would’ve started complaining, but Sniper begins to flip some switches and press some buttons with a casual air, and Spy feels benevolent enough to shut his mouth as they take off. 

Against all odds, getting up in the air goes smoothly. Spy’s ears pop from the change in elevation. He loosens his deathgrip on the duffle bag once Sniper takes them to what must be cruising altitude.

“Bonza,” says Sniper, sounding pleased. The jet shudders on an updraft, but he nudges the wing back in place. “You good? You went awfully quiet during take-off.”

“I was mentally reciting some prayers,” Spy says, shaking out of his impromptu memory suppression exercise. “But I’m finished now.”

“Great,” Sniper says. He gestures to the control panel on Spy’s side. “Mind seeing if there’s a manual in the glove compartment? Take off’s easy. It’s the landing bits I ain’t too sure of.”

Understandably, Spy’s confidence in surviving this entire ordeal plummets down to rock bottom. His silence might have given Sniper a hint of his mood—Sniper lets out a sigh. 

“Kidding about the glove compartment,” he says. “Was actually hoping I can fly us to the base at Badlands, crash land, and die terribly in the explosion. Then we’ll respawn, good as new.” 

Spy puts his face into his hands. “This barely makes the cutoff of what I would consider an acceptable plan.”

“How ‘bout I crashed right into the BLU’s base for a laugh? Would that be better?”

Spy lifts his head. “Actually, yes.” After a moment, he puts his head back into his palms. “Actually, no.” 

Sniper huffs. “Oh. Don’t tell me it’s against company policy.”

“Wide spread blunt force trauma with a stolen foreign aircraft is, likely, an unsanctioned act of aggression.” 

“That’s silly. I don’t see the bloody difference between killing a man with a gun or killing ‘em with a plane. Dead is dead—and hey. I hear rustling back there. You tryin’ to steal my loot?”

Spy has the duffle bag open in hopes that Sniper had somehow stolen a parachute. Instead, his hands hit stacks of binders, booklets, and office knick-knacks, including three staplers for some reason.

“You took their intelligence?” Spy asks, staring down at the crumpled papers.

“I’m guessing I did? I know that wasn’t one of our objectives but I figured I might as well. S’all in French anyway. Can’t read ‘em.”

Spy pulls out a booklet. It reads, Comment Piloter un Dassault Mirage Cinq D. He shuts his eyes, unable to form words for several long moments.

The plane lurches as Sniper turns around to look over his shoulder at Spy. He eyes the manual, eyebrows raising.

“Was that in the glove compartment? Why didn’t you say so?”

Spy deftly jumps out of another memory-suppression exercise. He opens the manual. It even has little diagrams of the fighter jet.

“Do you want me to read all this?” he asks.

“Nah. Skip to the bit about landing.”

“Of course,” Spy says, thumbing to the correct page. “The first instruction is to not crash.”

“Not even into the BLU’s base?”

“Not even.”

[evangelina830]

Spy, you’ll short circuit him😭😭😭

Don’t tell anyone but I want to make a story/comic of them but idk if people wanna read it ok bye)

[theconfusedacorn]

9 Shots to the Heart/Sniper Ship Week

DAY 9; Fighting OR Bloodysuit

Too scared to speak, Spook? Or are you just enjoyin the veiw?

(Insert offended French screeching)

Despite being a ship I don't generally enjoy, I did have fun making this! One sided, obsessive, BLU/RED sniperspy is great, honestly. Also, I KNOW I have a couple mutuals who like this ship, so this is for yall! (You know who you are :p)

[chaosharry729]

trying to learn the anatomy of kisses

they are a parasite in my brain

[daily-spy-tf2]

day 23

Post-battle (with @almost-daily-tf2-sniper)