#tf2 spy Tumblr posts

  • supreme-ahoge
    14.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    I saw this stock photo and immediately thought of these two, I knew i had to do it XD

    #art#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 spy #team fortress 2 spy #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2 sniper #stock photo
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  • kritzkrieg-kiss
    14.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    I have a headcanon that Sniper likes to sing but is shy about it. Often times, he'll mumble old Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley sons under his breath when he's hunkering down in the nest. One time, Spy snuck up behind him and caught him cooing Can't Help Falling In Love to himself. He still stabbed him in the back but he was kind enough to let him to finish first.

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  • fresh-tomatogogi
    14.06.2021 - 2 hours ago


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  • fresh-tomatogogi
    14.06.2021 - 2 hours ago


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  • fresh-tomatogogi
    14.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    old doodles

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  • colacarnage
    14.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    There's been an Adult Swim bump trend going on in the clock app. Had an idea but was too lazy to storyboard it. So here's this instead.

    Process here

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  • pigeonperch
    14.06.2021 - 5 hours ago

    My favorite thing is when people write or draw Spy and Scout mirroring each other without realizing it. Like father like son, whether they like it or not

    #Also very good when they do they exact opposite thing though that’s much less wholesome #tf2#tf2 spy#tf2 scout
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  • dorenarox
    14.06.2021 - 11 hours ago

    Wowee, look at that! A surprise Spy! :D

    #Yes#TF2 #I didn't order a Spy but I got one!
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  • dorenarox
    14.06.2021 - 11 hours ago

    Spy is counter to Heavy, FITE ME!!!

    #Yes#TF2 #Spy pls kill the Heavy I am too dumb to do it
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  • tftwo
    14.06.2021 - 13 hours ago

    pizza time :)

    #tf2#my art #requiem for a pizza 2 was fucking DOPE ive been waiting 4 years for it. literally the perfect video ever #that video has the best gay rep ive ever seen TEE BEE ACH very good. eee #stayed up till like 4 am drawing this...just finished up some stuff real quick :-) #scout tf2#sniper tf2#demoman tf2#spy tf2
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  • buzz-buzz-bee-tch
    14.06.2021 - 13 hours ago


    #i was in my drafts and i clicked an audio file #it played the wrong one and then didnt show the thing that allows you to pause it????????? #and the funniest part is is it was a sentence-mixed clip of spy tf2 saying 'oh my gd these bitches gay. good for them' #HDVDKDBKDHDKSJSJHDS
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  • dorenarox
    14.06.2021 - 14 hours ago


    #Yes#TF2 #...Excuse my nervous twitching around #Anyways that Spy is my favorite Spy so far
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  • popiasghoul
    14.06.2021 - 14 hours ago

    note to self: never play TF2 while high. I just walked around the map while narrating everything around me and spacing out/cracking nonsense jokes on the vc. here’s some highlights of what happened:

    -me and the enemy spy walked around together (even though he killed my teammates whenever they got too close) & we started a vc that quickly delved into chaos

    -I was amazed by a sentry and Engineer tried hitting me with his wrench

    -eventually a group of us stopped fighting altogether and went to a secluded part of the map to joke around/just start taunting

    Overall it was a very chill server and it was fun! :^) it helped with my mental state a lot tbh! It was just all good vibes

    #I didn’t even kill anyone #me and the enemy spy were just vibing together #we ended up talking through vc and he Immediately Knew #and started telling me stories #it was fun but now I feel bad #Dante rambles#drugs tw #Dante plays tf2
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  • cooltf2facts
    14.06.2021 - 14 hours ago
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  • bobamiruku
    14.06.2021 - 14 hours ago

    I need something for today so I thought I’ll draw my comfort character :) 

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  • enderia
    13.06.2021 - 17 hours ago

    Joining TF2 fandom late is so fucking weird because when I get a hold of all the weird parings like Blunt Trauma or Helmet Party I get hit by something like RED Engie/BLU Spy/RED Demo

    I get the Engie/Spy thing, yknow, enemy/enemy

    But tf is Demo doin there

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  • ask-destan
    13.06.2021 - 18 hours ago

    Chubby problems I encounter on a daily basis

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  • dassena
    13.06.2021 - 20 hours ago

    You handsome rogue!

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  • somnolent-scout
    13.06.2021 - 22 hours ago

    I'm thinking about having another warning tag I can put on reblogs so people can block the tag and not see any of it

    I want to make this blog a safe place for people who are really uncomfortable with Sniper x Spy. I know it's a sore spot for all of us sniperscout fans. I also know that a lot of people, myself included, are just uncomfortable with the nearly two decades age gap between the two.

    But, I have seen quite a bit of interesting and, if I'm being honest, inspiring artwork that features sniperspy. A while ago I saw an abstract piece about it feels to yearn and be touch starved for so long. It featured Spy and Sniper. But it was such a beautiful piece and I would've loved to reblog it. But, I knew that it might've made some of my followers uncomfortable. So I saved it to drafts instead (which is what I do when I find a piece of artwork that I love but I know it would make others uncomfortable if I reblogged it).

    I think I might start tagging sniperspy stuff as "scouts dad is really kind of rad" because of that one song. The Stacy's dad song that is just hysterical and honestly that song's vibes gives me the same vibes as sniperspy. Because.. well, Spy is Scout's dad.. and Scout is canonically friends with Sniper... You get the picture.

    #sniperspy #sniper x spy #tf2 #let me know what you guys think
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  • lu-undy
    13.06.2021 - 23 hours ago

    New Sniper/Spy long story!

    Aaaand I am back with a new Sniper/Spy story!

    It’s called “Un-alone” and can be found here!

    Hope you enjoy! :D

    "I need a minute, if that is possible." The French accent would have sounded pleasant and exotic if not for the circumstances.

    "Of course. If you need a drink, help yourself. I will be back to give you more details."

    The man in the suit nodded and the notary left the room. He waited for the door to click shut before sighing and loosening his tie. He looked around him, the wooden and serious walls seemed to close on him, as the walls of his skull pressed painfully on his brain. He lowered his head and held his hair in his hands.

    After a sigh, he slid on the sofa to the table at the corner of the room. He pushed the flower vase aside and looked at the tray with bottles and glasses. Water? Wine? Non, he needed something stronger. That whiskey would do. The glass cap yielded with a pop and he poured some in the glass. He didn't add any of the ice cubes. Non, he felt cold enough. 

    The bitter whiskey burnt the back of his throat down to his knotted stomach. The Frenchman held his head low. What should he do? Cry? Punch? Destroy? 

    Not yet. The notary gave a short knock before entering the room again. His eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had left a proper and prim man, to come back to what he could tell was a man barely holding himself back, to protect his dignity. He was used to being the bearer of bad news, he was used to seeing people cry, shout, get in all sorts of states. But experience also taught him that those who remain like marble are the most dangerous to themselves.

    "You mentioned details?" The French accent asked.

    The notary nodded, a distraught expression on his face, before he sat back at his desk. 

    "She left a letter for you." He put his glasses on. "I understand you were married?" 

    The man sitting on the sofa took another quick yet generous swig of his whiskey, the burning liquid making him almost gag.

    “Oui.” He simply answered after taking a deep breath to soothe himself, his fingers only ending up clenching harder on the glass he was holding. 

    “But you were not living together, if what I heard is correct.”

    The man on the sofa nodded, his head still lowered, his grey front tuft of hair waved in the air. 

    “I also understand that only her family was at her side in the end.” The notary said and the poor man frowned. “They were surprised to learn that all along she was actually married. They did not know of this union.”

    “Non, they did not.”

    The notary knew he was dealing with no ordinary man but this…? This added up to the exception.

    “The ceremony will take place tomorrow. Her family will be there.”

    The Frenchman nodded and stored this somewhere in his mind before asking what he had been burning to.

    “May I see the letter?” A shaking voice asked before the man lit up a cigarette, his gaze still evading the notary’s. 

    “Of course. Here is a copy.”

    “Do you have the original?”

    “Yes but I cannot let you see it, it is-”

    The notary’s voice stopped when the man sitting on the sofa finally raised his eyes to him. His face was dark, furious, boiling. His light blue eyes sliced the shadow cast by his front tuft, a menacing curtain falling on his forehead, and the tip of his cigarette shone in a more fierce shade of orange.

    He handed him the original.

    Instantly the man took it to his nose and smelt it. Tears came to his eyes that he prudely closed for a moment. Rose water and a hint of jasmine. Oui, that was her. Thank God the perfume hadn’t faded yet! He smiled, but his body and his face were screaming bittersweetness, nostalgia and deeper down, something he hated to show, like a weakness. 


    He loved her with all the fibres of his body. There wasn’t a sight more pleasant than her smile, a song more melodious than her voice, a taste more forbidden than her lips’.

    He raised a shaking gloved hand to his forehead and opened his eyes to read the will. The handwriting was unmistakingly hers. He recognised it. It was a bit more shaky than when he last saw it, but it was hers.

    “My sweetheart Lulu,”

    The man clenched his jaw further, feeling the strain on his cheeks and grinding his teeth to hold back what he would let out later, in his own private time.

    “I am sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t know how to, I didn’t know where you were, how you were. But I knew you never forgot about me. As long as I received the flowers, the gifts for Jay, the chocolates and sometimes, the cassettes, I knew you were alive and well.

    The last letter I received from you dates back to my birthday and I kept it under my pillow until the very end. If you are reading this, my family then knows about you, they must be wondering about a million things. But I didn’t answer anything. I couldn't tell them that Jeremy’s father is a French spy, that we got married in secret more than twenty years ago, that when Jeremy came into our lives, we decided to live separately with as little contact as possible to protect the boy, now a man. I couldn’t tell my family that I miss you everyday, yet I love you more by the day. 

    My Lulu, I am not leaving you at all. I might even be closer to you now than before, who knows? Maybe the warmth you feel in your cheeks now is my touch? Maybe the tears you are hiding right now, I will dry, when you finally let them go.

    My love, everything I have, I have left it to our son. It isn’t much and I am afraid it is more debt than help…

    I ask of you two things, please, my sweetest of hearts. The first is to help Jeremy. Help him with a job, please. He still doesn’t know you, I never told him who you were. I think it is your call to make. If you ever decide to know him, I know you will see how much he got from you... 

    The second is please, never stop singing. Promise me to sing more, I want to hear you now, more than ever.

    Je t’aime and goodbye,

    Your little flower, Marie.”

    The Frenchman’s heart was in his throat. He was on the sofa, in this wooden room where the sun didn’t shine, where the flowers in the vase next to him where fake, where he wished he could bite in his glass of whiskey and chew on the glass shards, crush them and let them slice through him, let the pain be physical, anywhere on his body, his face, anything but this. It was harder to bear with each second.

    He didn’t realise it but his hands were trembling on the letter. He stared at it a bit more and cleanly folded it before putting it in his inner pocket. 

    “Sir, I-”

    Again, the sheen of the light blue eyes left very little room for discussion.

    “I am sorry but I must ask you to give me back the original, it is an official document for this procedure and I can hardly-argh!”

    In the blink of an eye, the Frenchman had leapt in the air from the sofa to the desk, overlooking it. His face was less than an inch away from the notary’s astonished one. 

    “I will keep her letter.” The French accent threateningly said, his teeth clenched like a furious panther’s.

    “B-But Sir-argh?!”

    Something cold was against the notary’s throat. Something cold and pointy. It was pressing against his fragile column of air.

    “A-Alright, y-you can keep it…”

    The Frenchman backed off from the desk and the notary watched him flick some sort of blade between his fingers before he dropped it in one of his pockets. His jaw dropped. He had just been threatened with a knife.

    “I was not asking.”

    “W-well…” The notary pulled on his collar to have a bit more air come to his lungs. He wiped the sweat off his brow. “W-why threaten me then?” 

    The Frenchman took his jacket again and put it on before heading to the door. He left without adding a word. 

    It was still the afternoon of that late September day and in Boston, the weather started to get colder but was still very bearable. 

    Lucien took a deep breath and sighed when he was finally out of the notary’s practice and into the street. The light breeze did not help get more oxygen to his lungs. Or maybe it did, but no amount of air could help. He slipped back into the taxi and the driver took him back to his hotel. 

    As soon as he set foot in the five-star establishment, a young man in a red and golden uniform came to him. 

    “Sir, there has been a phone call for you, they said it was urgent and you should call back, here is the number.” He was holding a tray on which was a card. Lucien took it and read the number that he recognised only too well. He nodded and headed to the elevator. 

    As it took off and hovered higher and higher, Lucien could see more and more of the city underneath him through the windows. He saw it all. The restaurant they had met in, while undercover as a singer, the park he had taken her to, the movie theatre he had invited her to, where they had shared their first kiss, the streets of her city, the roads, streets, avenues that were once so familiar. They now looked like grey, narrow valleys dug in the concrete of buildings, slithering like the bed of dead rivers. 

    Ding ding.

    The jingle of the bell in the elevator broke his train of thought. 

    “Here we are, Sir.”

    Lucien turned away from the windows to face the doors that slid open. He entered the carpeted corridor and soon found his door. The keys jangled as they exited his pocket and the next thing he knew, he was inside. 

    He had rented an en-suite room with a double bed - habits die hard - and went straight to the minibar to help himself to some more strong alcohol. He didn't mind the taste and just wanted the burn and bitterness; anything really to move his pain from his heart to his body.

    He grabbed a bottle of God knows what and poured some before drinking, chugging the entire glass down his throat in one go, before the glass hit the counter again loudly. He hissed under the unpleasant feeling of the alcohol scorching as it glided through his oesophagus and stomach.

    Lucien removed his jacket and threw it on the coathanger before he undid his tie. He only fished out the letter and slipped it in his trousers' pocket.

    “Mon Dieu…”

    He grabbed the bottle and the glass, and headed to the sofa. On his way, he kicked his shoes off and frowned. He hated seeing people do that - remove their shoes with their feet, damaging the leather. But he couldn't be asked to do it properly with his hands. For all he knew, those shoes could go to hell.

    He flopped down on the sofa and poured himself some more whiskey. The glass and the bottle shone under the flames of the fireplace opposite him. It caught his eye for an instant and blinded him. He grumbled and looked away, to his left and - oh, the bedroom door. 

    His eyes hung there for a while, the bottle and glass hanging in mid-air. 

    From where he was sitting, he could only see the bed, large and empty, cold even, he could feel it. 

    He would have killed for one more night with her. He would have… 

    Lucien sighed and drank some more before lighting another cigarette and sucking his anger away at it. 

    His eyes came back in front of him, and he saw the letter. His mind rolled back more than two decades ago. Meeting Marie, falling in love with her, falling in love for the first time. 

    But his job as a spy was way too dangerous for her, for him, and soon, for the little boy that Lucien was delighted to hold in his arms for the first time. And it was soon decided. A wedding, in secret, just him, her and two witnesses, people who happened to be in the church praying that day. They didn't even know them. They got married and Lucien stayed long enough for baby Jérémy to have a vague souvenir of his father. 

    He loved them. Lucien loved Marie and Jérémy. He loved them so much that he left them, and it broke his heart. Everyday he wished he could hold them in his heart. But he was too good at his job and wanted to keep it. It paid him a fortune and he could send some money to help. 

    Another sigh that failed to take his frustration and his guilt out of him. 

    Lucien stood up and walked to the window that he opened wide. He looked at the tiny city, busy underneath him. To all these people, today was a normal day. Some of them might even be happy… 

    But for him, today felt awful. 

    His eyes swept across the streets as he walked back in time to where he had met her. Mary, his Marie. It had been a busy night in the restaurant he was working at. He was undercover, a singer, trying to get closer to a frequent client. He had worked hard for months to approach his target. But that night wasn’t the one he managed to sit and dine with that shady nobody. Instead, an angel crossed his path. 


    She wasn’t shy and he liked her boldness. He thought it was very American of her to be this way, to think that she could get whatever she wanted, if only she worked hard enough for it. Mon Dieu… She had come to his changing room, backstage, with her blue dress and matching headband, her lips were glossy red and her eyelashes, more beautiful than a butterfly’s wings in summer, fluttering to half hide the deep blue irises that he saw too vividly now.

    She had knocked at his door and the moment he had opened it, the sight of her seized him like a hand to the throat. She raised her eyes to him and gave him a smile that still burnt his insides. Without hesitation, she started talking as if they had known each other for a long time, asking him a million questions.

    Of course, back in those days, Lucien was quite valued on the market of love. Tall and slim, his hair still all black and combed back, light blue, almost grey eyes that looked in the deepest corners of one’s mind, impeccable manners, a smirk that weakened the knees of any woman in sight and a French accent that made them fall in his arms effortlessly…

    He remembered that she kept coming to listen to him night after night. They would enjoy something to eat together. She had tried to invite him but he always insisted. 

    Une aussi jolie fleur que toi ne paie pas.

    Such a beautiful flower as you are does not pay.

    It had started as a distraction, a pleasant surprise in his life. But soon, Lucien found himself waiting for those knocks at his door, in the changing room backstage. He realised that on the few nights she wouldn’t come, he would feel uncomfortable. Something was odd, something wasn’t right, like a pebble in his shoe, something he could live with but… 

    And looking inside him he understood that in fact, he was missing her. Him, the man with more love conquests than there were stars in the night sky. He had fallen. In love oui, but he had fallen. Fallen under those eyes, fallen on his knees for her, always looking for her when he sang now. His eyes would frantically scan his audience, the crowd who came to applaud him, he did not hear them! Of course not! Oh! There she was! Ah, Marie…

    His eyes would stop on her and from the moment he found her, his secret flower, he would sing and dance for her. Oui, he would even stand up from his piano and dance, make a fool of himself in front of a full room of guests. He would smile only after he would see her grin and wished oh so dearly the whole room would fall silent to hear only her beautiful laughter...

    Oh he remembered how they stayed so late in the restaurant that countless times, they had to be pushed out of it. It had happened a few times before Lucien one night asked her to stay.


    “Yeah?” She raised her round eyes to him.

    “Stay, please. Don’t walk back home so soon.”

    “It… It’s very late, Lucien.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around herself tighter against the cold.

    Oui, with Marie, he had given her his real name straight ahead. Something in his guts had told him that it was safe to do so. He knew it was wrong and dangerous, foolish even! But non, with Marie, it felt wrong to lie.

    “Please, ma petite fleur.”

    [my little flower]

    She had blushed. He could barely see it in the darkness of the night, but the street light was enough and he did see it!

    “Fine,” She yielded and Lucien never knew, but of course she wanted to stay. “What is it?” She asked.

    “Let us wait for a few minutes. Are you cold?”

    “A bit, yeah.”

    “Here.” Lucien removed his coat and wrapped her in it.

    “Aren’t you cold?” She asked and he smiled. 

    “Jamais quand tu es près de moi.”

    [Never when you are near me.]

    “You know I don’t get French, right?”

    “Oui, I do.”

    “Then say it in English.”

    “Non.” He chuckled and blushed, turning slightly away to hide himself.

    “Come on…! It’s unfair!” She pulled him back from the panes of his jacket.

    “I cannot.” He confessed, still looking away from her.

    “Why not? I’m sure you know the words and all. Your English is perfect, c’mon!”

    “Non, Marie, please, don’t make me say it…” He looked down and his front tuft of hair, the same one that is grey now, it fell on his forehead. 


    The Frenchman closed his eyes when he felt her cold hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to her.


    And for the first time in his life he understood what it felt like to be the one who is in love, to be the one who feels ill when the other one isn’t here, and to feel blessed when they were together.

    “My little flower, I’m never cold when you are near me.” He yielded eventually and to his greatest delight, her grin widened before she hugged him, like that, unexpectedly. She had just leapt to him and held on to the panes of his jacket dearly, with her head and her black hair right below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and kept her close. He was freezing but he didn’t feel it. All he knew was that he held in his arms the first and only person he ever loved.

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