Ed has just quit crying when he starts to feel weird.
“Huh,” he says as his legs quiver.
Then a wrenching pain starts at his hips, fire spreading down his legs, as they break apart, apart, apart, apart.
“Fuck.” His curse bounces around the empty Captain’s room. Because when he looks down, instead of legs, there are eight tentacles staring back at him.
“Stop glaring at me,” he hisses at them before promptly passing out.
This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever written and I adore it with all of my heart.
Thanks to the discord (cough, cough enablers), to @nv-md for a brilliant beta (even though you’ve yet to see the show) and to the cast and crew of Our Flag Means Death for giving us good queer content.
Now I’m gonna go pass out because it’s well past my bedtime and I’ve done nothing but write the last few hours.
