#gazcrow

[ask-sgtcrow]

when laswell’s tryna brief us on a mission but i see this so i can’t pay attention 🤤

[ask-sgtcrow]

spider-crow?

a teen AND spiderman au? my genius knows no bounds.

lmk if ye want more 😈 i’ve got more………….

[ask-sgtcrow]

closed rp w/ @ask-gaz

very late MERMAY SPECIAL

Crow understood that a break was what he needed. It would do him some good to have time off, time to relax, as much as he refused to admit it.

But England, of all places. Out of everywhere his captain could have sent him to, Crow was to spend leave in England. He was almost worried he’d done something wrong for his captain to be filled with such spite but he was shipped off to the North Sea’s coastline before he could ask.

…The beach was nice though.

Begrudgingly, Crow had found a loose routine in the remote cabin he’d been given near the beach. It was walks with sand between his toes and late morning swims daily.

And the occasional adventure past the sand, where rocks threatened to damage the skin of his feet while he climbed them all for the sake of finding the quiet corners of the beach to properly sit and relax in, enjoy the sounds of waves washing up and… more waves splashing against the rocks.

He’d started to spend whole days in those closed off parts of the beach, next to tide pools and small caves on his own, tutting the occasional greeting to seagulls that decided to join him, blaming the feeling of being watched on them. When he’d return back to the cabin at the end of the day he’d always be covered in sand and more sunburn than the day before, but he didn’t mind.

That’s where he found the most trinkets, too. In his hideouts, every day he’d return for another day of lounging, he’d find things like shells and pretty rocks and sea glass he’d tell himself looked the same colour as his eyes, all left behind by the high tide, he’s sure. And he always pocketed them, knowing they’d look good in his assortment of collected items back on base.

And then a storm hit the coast. Crow knew it wasn’t too bad. He comfortably waited it out with a blanket over his shoulders and his sketchbook in hand.

Walking outside the next day made him realise that it actually was too bad, if how wrecked the beach had gotten was anything to go off of.

There was seaweed and even a few jellyfish thrown across the fields of sand, making the place look a right mess. And Crow got right to work cleaning it up. It was the least he could do to pay the beach back for its many gifts. And if he’d also gotten a little attached to the place over the last week or so, that was something only he got to know.

While he was letting a moon jellyfish slip from his hands back into the sea though, he heard a sudden commotion he didn’t expect to hear, something human with what he heard of a grunt.

His head snapped toward the sound, toward one of his ‘hideouts’, concern quickly building in his mind as he shot up onto his feet and another wince sounded from past the wall of rock.

About a million different worries ran through his brain as he made his way through the familiar path over. ‘Someone must have gotten caught in the storm’, ‘they have ta be hurt badly to be stuck there’, he told himself while effortlessly clambering into the hidden portion of the beach, eyes scanning the sand and water like the trained soldier he was.

[ask-sgtcrow]

Halloween Special with @ask-gaz

werewolf!crow x vampire!gaz :3

———

Through the violence of the battlefield—the quick footsteps against uneven ground, practised reloading of firearms, screams, pained grunts, desperate pleas for backup—the sound of a howl is unmistakable.

It's rough, unique in its own right. And it's Crow's. All gritty and low pitched, a warning for anyone standing in his way.

For anyone in his general vicinity, actually. Any enemy soldier that stood against the horrific mess of black fur and sharp teeth found themselves ripped apart within moments, with only a hot breath of air against the back of their necks accompanied by a low growl to warn them.

Crow moved across the battlefield like any other of his fellow soldiers, poised with the deadly elegance you'd expect a hybrid between man and wolf to have. That is, there's not so much elegance at all. Man slips up sometimes and all that's left is a starved wolf, barely-tamed, in need of a good tug of his collar.

With each enemy successfully dispatched of, the growls of hunger would grow louder in the back of Crow's mind until he was throwing himself around the killing floor like he was now, tunnel-visioned on anyone that posed a threat, teeth bared at the slightest scent of blood, fear, weakness.

He was a sight for sore eyes, truly.

And a familiar one at that for one Kyle Garrick.

The smear of black fur shooting across his vision from a distance before the agonising scream of an enemy ripped through the air was a fond sight at this point. The barely restrained growls were near beautiful to hear amidst the grimness of the battle field.

Chaos ensued in the hands- no, jaws of Crow and it was majestic if not otherwise terrifying, horrific in its own right, deadly but magnificent.

Like any good dog, Crow finished his task quickly. He did what he was told to, if not a little more violently than he needed to. And before long the mission was done.

“Right.” The familiar voice of Captain John Price crackled to life in Kyle’s ear. “Garrick, get the dog back, we’re going.” An impossible—even deadly—task for some, but Kyle wasn’t like some.

When faced with the thousand pound mass of Crow in all his wolf glory, he could trust he wasn’t in danger. The heaving weight of Crow’s breaths, the danger in darkly coloured eyes that were eyeing Gaz were practically all for show. As were the bared teeth, his maw covered in blood, dripping with brutality, similarity to the shaggy mane his wolf form sported, matted with gore spilled from both his enemies and himself.

Crow stared down Gaz like he would any other enemy soldier. Except he wasn’t.

He stepped towards his boyfriend with a sharp gaze and his lips pulled into a snarl of a grin, tail wagging ever so subtly you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t Gaz as he watched the man in front of him.

Blood soaked Crow’s coat, the smell undeniably working to set Gaz off, and Crow was grinning. Whining softly like a lost pup as he towered over his vampire, his own sight for sore eyes.

[ask-sgtcrow]

ghhg i love my boyfriend…

[ask-sgtcrow]

gazcrow sparring smut fic when

((TEEHHEHEHE. oh anon……………))

((after consulting the higher powers this was the answer i received))

((please please please please please))

[ask-sgtcrow]

@ask-gaz has fallen out of more helicopters than you think. he shakes like one of them small dogs every time we have ta get on one

i need to pat his head and give him sweets to get him to calm down

[ask-sgtcrow]

gaz is the type of guy to kiss you all over your face until it gets annoying. he wont stop even if you tell him to

confirm?

it’s one of his favourite fecking things to do. he’s like a cat that doesn’t know when ta stop or doesn’t want ta stop rubbing against you for attention

the easiest solution i found was just throwing him halfway across tha room 🖤